dilatory scruples, by which we would fain excuse ourselves from the "work of faith, and labour of love, and patience of hope." Truly it well becomes your dull and drowsy formalists in religion, to criticise and coolly to condemn this prince of all the apostles, and to plead to themselves his occasional error in one extreme, as a justification of their continual crime in the other! For surely, after all, there may be as much of weak timidity in a cold heart, as there can be of rashness in a keen temper and an ardent spirit. There are men who are ever ready-with the chilling air of insinuated doubt-to blast and wither the energy of religious hope; prophets of evil-who would suppress every lofty aspiration of faith, and discourage every wish and every plan of good, by the poor suspicions of their shrewd policy and their worldly wisdom; anticipating always the hazard of failure, just hinting the chances of coming danger and defeat. But let such men know, that if to make rash vows and inconsiderate attempts in a holy cause, is folly—to make no vows and no attempts at all, is sin. Let them looklet us all look-to the generosity of Peter's self-denial and self-devotion. And while we resolve more circumspectly and act more deliberately than he sometimes did, let us learn to resolve and to act as nobly for God, and in the strength of God. We may seek to avoid his impetuosity. But let us not forget, that without something of his enthusiasm, nothing great, nothing good, can ever be achieved. There may be danger when there is zeal without knowledge. Is the danger less when there is no zeal at all?

XIII.

PETER-THE TRIAL, INFIRMITY, AND TRIUMPH OF HIS FAITH.

"O thou of little faith, wherefore dost thou doubt?"-MATT. xiv. 28-31.

THE incident recorded in this passage of Scripture, not only illustrates generally the character of the Apostle Peter, but affords a particular example of his faith— its power, and its weakness too-such as may be usefully studied. The whole of this midnight scene, indeed, is full of instruction to the believer, especially in seasons of darkness and doubt. The disciples are sent to sea alone; their Master constrains them to get into a ship and go before him to the other side of the lake, while he remains behind, first to dismiss the multitude whom he has miraculously fed in the desert, and then to go up into a mountain apart to pray. At first, in the calm evening and on the smooth waters, fresh as they were from the wondrous feast, the disciples might think little of their temporary separation from their Lord, as they cheerfully launched forth their little

bark, in anticipation of a short and easy voyage, and a happy meeting on the other side. Suddenly the sky is overcast, the wind is contrary, and, midway across the sea, the ship is tossed with waves. And where at this critical moment is Jesus? Why is he not with them, to say to the stormy billows-Peace, be still? Has he forgotten them? "This is their infirmity." Did they not "remember the works of the Lord and his wonders"-not in their case-" of old?" Alas! they feel desolate and forlorn. And, lo! to trouble them still more, here is a vision, an apparition of a ghostly form in the dark mist-the spirit of the tempest, as it might seem, mocking their helplessness as he makes them reel and stagger like a drunken man! Truly they are at their wits' end; when a blessed voice out of the gloom reassures them, and the well-known accents fall upon their ears-"Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid."

What a lesson to a doubting soul! What a rebuke of unbelief! "The waters saw thee, O God, the waters saw thee; they were afraid. Thy way is in the sea, and thy path in the great waters, and thy footsteps are not known" (Ps. lxxvii. 16, 19).

Rushing, with his usual impetuosity, from one extreme to another, Peter not only recovers his self-possession, but rises as by a rebound to the highest pitch of boldness. We may be sure he had been at least as much depressed as his fellow-disciples-as ready to despair of help while Jesus was absent-as apt to mistake his abrupt approach in an unexpected way as if it were a vision of judgment, and not a visit of love. But what a start he makes, on the instant, out of the lowest depth of trouble and terror, to what might seem

the very romance of confidence and daring, rather than the chastened and sober reality of humble faith ! And that there is something of the spirit of romance here, we are far from denying; nay, it is this very feature in the incident before us that gives it, in our view, at once its charm and its value; its charm, as a picture of most attractive interest; and its value, as a lesson of the utmost practical value. Certainly, the alternations of a mind like Peter's-even when it seems capriciously tossed to and fro between what looks too like despair, and what savours too much of fool-hardiness-are preferable to the monotony of an ever placid and unbroken calm. The living enthusiasm of faith, with all the irregular fluctuations of its beating pulse and throbbing heart, is better far than the uniformity of a dead sleep, or sloth. It is not always the most unwholesome weather when the glass shows rapid variations between the points of storm and fair; nor is it a bad sign of the glass itself, that its index sometimes makes sudden enough leaps upon the dialplate, in obedience to these atmospheric changes.

There is life, then, in Peter's faith-life, and not a little health too; otherwise it would have nothing in it either to attract or to edify. But the incident we are now to consider, is both attractive and edifying; affording us an insight into the workings of a lively faith in a lively soul, and bringing out, in the liveliest manner, its genuine sincerity, its imperfection, and its ultimate prevalence and triumph.

That Peter's faith in Jesus was at all events and upon the whole sincere, is manifest from these two circumstances in his behaviour: that at the first, in

dependence upon Jesus, he left the vessel; and again, when sinking, called upon him for aid. He must have believed that it was no spiritual apparition, but his own beloved Master, whom he saw, and whose voice of invitation he heard. And he must have been thoroughly convinced that he was both able and willing to sustain his footsteps on the treacherous path which he invited him to tread. Otherwise his conduct, in attempting to walk on the water, was utter madness; and his cry when sinking, "Lord, save me!" was the mere raving of delirious terror. His faith then might be weak, and liable to the interruption of doubt; but still it was genuine and hearty.

And the very words of our Saviour's reproof manifestly imply that it was so: "O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?" Peter is not charged with the sin of having no faith at all, though he is reproved for having little faith. Nay, at the very instant of his culpable doubting, his faith was in active exercise. For in faith he had been willing to comply with his Master's call, and in faith he was making his earnest prayer to him for help. He had faith therefore, and that sincere faith, though he had not much faith, or strong faith. He had such a faith as made him hazard his life on the truth believed, and told him where in danger to seek for safety.

By the example, therefore, of Peter's faith we are taught, that uneasy thoughts and anxious fears, however inconsistent they may be with the abundance and the strength of energetic faith, are not always or necessarily inconsistent with its genuine reality. He who doubts in the time of trial is evidently a man of comparatively little faith, and, as such, may be