learn to hate more intensely the sin which brought death into the world-and by fleeing from sin might escape that second death which outweighs in its awfulness the death of the body.

II. The Great Death.

Let us

Let us picture to ourselves another scene. place ourselves in spirit at the foot of Calvary. Let us pierce with the intensity of our gaze the miraculous gloom that shrouds the earth in darkness, and look upon the form of Him, who, for our transgressions, is hanging upon the Cross of Shame: and, as we hear that appalling cry: Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit," and see the ashy paleness of death spread itself over those noble features, let us ask ourselves—

1. Who was this?

2. Why did He die?

3. What were the effects of His death?

1. Who was this-dying this ignominious death, surrounded by mocking crowds? No common malefactor it is clear-for no common malefactor had the power to stir the hearts of all around him to such fierce joy or to such bitter grief, as we may see depicted in the faces of the spectators at the foot of the Cross. Who was this? The sun, which refuses to shed its

:

light on the awful scene: the earth, as with mighty convulsions it seems to sob over its Maker's agonies the Centurion, hardened to such sights of suffering, yet who had never seen such a death before these all bear their witness that This truly is the Son of God! Yes, He whom we see enduring the penalty of sin-in all the mortal agonies of the most painful death, is in very truth the Eternal-the Sinless One -the very God who first pronounced on His guilty creatures the sentence of death. How is it that He is now in human form enduring this most awful penalty?

2. What better answer can we have than those words of the inspired prophet of old: "He hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows, yet we did esteem Him stricken, smitten of God and afflicted. But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement of our peace was upon Him, and with His stripes we are healed." That death scene is but the proof of the wonderful love of God, who, though He could not belie His word, and save the sinner from the death due to his sin, would yet, by tasting death for every man Himself, lighten that terrible burden which we have to bear, and satisfy the sterner demands of an inexorable justice.

3. What are then the effects of that death?

Death is no longer so utterly hopeless to him who has faith in Jesus. It still remains a penalty for sin, from which the natural man, created for immortality, shrinks with instinctive fear and dread-but it is a penalty shared with Jesus—the greater burden of which He has borne-and so they who have hope in their death, are able to face it with peace and calmness. For what cause have they to fear? Has not Jesus died? Are they not, in their death, but treading in the footsteps of Him, who, in dying, removed from death its sting? From henceforth, to die is but to sleep in Jesus, to be taken home to His bosom, and there to be hushed to sleep, after all the fierce conflicts and weary trials of an earthly life have ceased for ever-to wait in the sweet calm of conscious rest for that even happier time, when, after the Resurrection of the Body, we shall be for ever with the Lord whom we love.

We may deduce from these thoughts two considerations

1. It deepens in our souls the sense of God's love, who spared not His own Son, but gave Him up freely for us all, to save us from the penalty due to our sins -for oh! if it is a terrible thing for the natural man to die, what must it have been to Him, who, though He was very man, was also very God-the very Life Himself—and yet, even from this He did not shrink

for our sakes. Shall we not then love Him who so loved us?

2. It deepens in our souls the sense of the thorough hatefulness of sin-when no less a death than this could satisfy the justice of God. O my soul! thou art tempted at times to think lightly of thy sins, to esteem them of no more than passing moment in the eyes of thy God. Learn then, from the sight upon which thou hast been gazing, to think differently. Read in the death agonies of thy Saviour the weight of the lightest of thy sins, and shudder to think how often thou hast carelessly-nay, even wilfully-condemned Him to this death.

III. My Own Death.

Let me try to picture to myself the moment of my own death. I have been stricken down with some disease. It is fatal. I know it. The increasing anxiety of my friends, the more sedulous care of the doctor, the silent tears which from time to time roll down the faces of those who watch around my bed, tell me that my time has come-that there is no more hope. I can no longer look forward to the possibility of living many years or days, but I know now that a few hours or minutes, and I am, as the world counts it, no more. Already the dew drops of death clam

my brow. Already the watchers wipe away the foam of death from my lips. Is it fear or hope that sends that strange tremor through my frame? Is it the joyful effort of the soul to escape to the loving embrace of its Saviour? or is it the fierce struggle of the unwilling soul to retain possession of its miserable and suffering home of clay, rather than go forth to meet its doom? Do I rejoice in my spirit or fear with a terrible fear at the thought of a speedy death? But now the struggle is over. My body, that which I so lately called mine, lies on the bed, still, motionless, soulless, food for corruption. My soul, my real life, goes forth into that wide pathless expanse of the world of souls to seek its doom,— borne by the gentle hands of angels to its sweet rest in the bosom of Jesus, or fiercely driven by evil angels to the restless abode of the lost.

One thought comes to us with overwhelming force, as we seek thus feebly to realize to ourselves the moment of death, and that is the thought of our own ignorance-our own helplessness. We are altogether in the hands of God. He knows, but we know not either the time when, or the means by which God will call us,-whether it will be to-day, to-morrow, next day, or fifty years hence-whether it will be a sudden unexpected death, by what the world terms an accident,-whether it will be