when I look around upon those whom we believe, from an apparent change in their principles, to be the children of God, and see some advancing rapidly in the way of holiness, becoming more and more like their Lord, and more conformed in all things to the Father's will, while others seem to rest where they began; still conning their first principles; wishing and hoping, but nothing the happier, nothing the holier for their hopes;—when I consider this, and together with it those parables in which our Lord spake of an unequal distribution of rewards, by some measurement of previous service, I cannot divest myself of the thought, that the place of each one in the Redeemer's kingdom may depend upon the progress he has made in life; I do not mean upon his works, what he has done that is impossible," for we are all unprofitable servants," and can earn no preference; but upon his character-what he is his fitness to be employed in the higher offices of the kingdom, and to sit nearest to the King. I do not pretend

to know by what rule these unequal honours will be distributed: "there are last that shall be first, and first that shall be last;" but it seems certain that those will sit nearest to their Lord who shall be found most like him.

Then if it is true that upon our progress in holiness depends possibly our place in the Redeemer's kingdom, certainly our happiness here, and the glory of God in us, the subject of this volume cannot be unimportant to the believer. The time is short-how short, God only knows-but short certainly; our sun perhaps is already on the horizon; or before it has reached the noon, some untimely blighting has chilled our frame, and left but little vigour for the task, which in our days of capability we have done so idly; or if it is not so yet, it would be unwise to wait till it shall be ;-there are mornings of life which never have an evening. Shall we be content, when Jesus comes to take the lowest and the farthest seat, while some who in knowledge and

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profession seem below us now, are bidden to go up higher ?" This is, indeed, to want ambition such as saints may feel. But " feel. But already is the kingdom of God within us:" the days are lost that we delay to claim its freedom and to share its bliss. That heaven we anticipate, is but the perfecting of a bliss begun; every step we advance in holiness brings us nearer to the enjoyment of it. If we have not tasted it, it is because we have not reached after it. We have gazed so long upon our own deformity, we have forgotten the beauty we are required to transcribe into our bosoms. We have become so low, so indolent, under the sense of our own weakness, we have forgotten that in Jesus we have strength for every thing.

How, then, is man to find out God? Where are we to see, that we may copy it, the likeness in which we were created, and to which we are redeemed? In the abstract idea of God there is nothing that humanity can compass. His creative power, his all-disposing wisdom, his

undeserved bounty, and resistless vengeancethese are all we know of God, and these we cannot imitate, for they are the attributes of Deity. But as God has manifested himself to us in the humanity of Jesus Christ, we have a perfect pattern, by which we may fully know what he would have us to be. In proportion as we resemble this, we are holy in his sight; and in proportion as we are holy, we are happy. If it be but some faint, imperfect feature that we catch, graven by his Spirit on the heart, it will be great gain in our abundant wretchedness. But he has promised more, he has commanded more: and though of ourselves we can do nothing, we are to act as if we could do all. When the artist puts the pencil into the pupil's hand, and bids him copy what he sees, he knows he cannot do it, but he means to teach him. So, when our heavenly Father places himself in characters of humanity before us, and bids us "be holy as he is holy, and pure as he is pure," he knows we cannot, but he intends to lead us forward, by almost un

conscious steps, to the attainment of that which he requires. He sets before us the object of imitation, that, with eye intently fixed upon its beauty, we may love it more the longer we behold it, and grow insensibly to the likeness of what we love-still longing, still proceeding, but then only "satisfied, when we awake after his likeness."