We, as Ministers, labour in the midst of the people, where, amongst the younger men at least, these purposes are the strongest, and where it has become a permanent and applicable conviction-that 'the guinea's worth is i'the gold, and not i'the stamp upon it.' And the ever-increasing multitude of thoughtful men that are growing up in the midst of us are silently assuming this as the basis of all action and all policy. Then, brethren, our future influence as moral and spiritual powers upon these, will depend upon the sheer momentum of our character in all its aspects.

Don't mistake me: I believe the character of the Methodist Ministry to be at least as high as that of any other Ministry within the widest borders of the Church. I believe that, although we have not been without our faults, there are no men who would more readily scorn the meretricious and the unreal; who would more absolutely despise the misemployment of functional power or official pressure. It is not this that I in the least refer to it is not the undue use of any power that may be supposed to be inherent in the ministerial function that I allude to at all, it is the rather an instinctive reliance on it in given circumstances. For example: there is growing up amongst

us a cultured class. I have made not a few who belong to this class, in various parts of our country, a careful study. Of some of them, though essentially loyal to us, the religious life scarcely travels along the old lines of Method

ism. But there is another and, within my circle, much larger section of this cultured class, upon which our hold is of the feeblest. There rise before me scores of homes where the parents are the great-grandchildren of Methodists and they themselves love and reverence still the Church and the Ministry of their fathers. They were educated people; yet their children, under the influence of affluence, affection, and the splendid facilities of our age, by University training, travel into the prominent centres of Europe and America, and friendship or intercourse with high society, have become either truly cultured,-which is the case in many instances,--or else superficially glazed and socially stilted.

Now these, the children of our most respected people, have often no real sympathy with us; perhaps are entirely untouched by spiritual life. Yet we have a mission to these, they are placed by God in our pastorate; but whilst the very fact of our being Methodist Preachers will be a symbol of respect to the parents, and make our advice and counsel precious, this same fact may be absolutely prejudicial in the case of the children. They will not attach moment to what we say because we are Methodist Preachers: perhaps the reverse. But even they cannot defy the irresistible might of character. It is not our office, but our personality that is effective here. And if persistently the quiet and lofty spirit of the Christian-the calm courage of godliness-be manifested, side by side with the independence and suavity of the gentleman, the most cultivated youths born and bred amongst us, may be taught that there is something deeper than university-training, broader than the broadest travel, and higher than the most exalted circles of 'society,'-it is the soul that is Christ-like; the mind that in the spirit of heaven fearlessly accomplishes the work of earth.

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And there is a temptation that is closely linked with this. In Methodism the social instincts are intensely strong, alike in laity and Clergy. Our people delight to associate us with the joys and festivities of their homes. And observe, it is not in the pulpit that men utter themselves most. Our more delicate views and beliefs are often far better known at the fireside of our chosen friends; and more in detail amplified at their hospitable boards than in our pulpits. We unbend ourselves to the most trusted and loved amongst our people. And in this there is at once danger and opportunity. teacher of great spiritual truths, the man whose life must be the embodiment of what he teaches, must navigate in such a delightful but dangerous channel with charts well considered and apparatus well applied. The joyous and elastic nature may with utmost benefit suffer the kindling of its joy and delight itself in the enjoyment of its liberty; but it must see boldly charted the dangerous rock of levity, and the shoal of intellectual looseness. The stern and rigid nature need yield no iota of its principle, and yet there are times and places when it is not well to let our subjective aspects of the severities of the outer form of godliness be unyieldingly expressed. In becoming all things to all men,' we may yet remain in principle unchanging. Guile' is an instrument with which every spiritual teacher is Divinely furnished: by which I understand, tact, elasticity, adaptation: a perception of the happiest way of presenting a distasteful truth, or inserting an unwelcome argument.

There is a danger to some minds lest a sentiment of loyalty to truth, and a dread of the self-made accusation of cowardice, should lead to the unwise expression of what after all are only subjective views. Such views of life, duty, godliness, expressed in the bearing of certain young and cultured

minds, may distort their conceptions of what is involved in piety, may lead to rooted indifference, and, in time, to total severance from us. It is under

the influence of our thought and life at the firesides of our most respected people, that the life-long resolves of many of the most cultivated youths in our pastorate are made. It is then that opinions are drawn from us on such subjects as-the Christian propriety of luxurious and elegant dress; the wearing of costly jewels; the kind of public or private amusement that is morally right, and why the one that comes next it should be counted wrong; and the perusal of the very daring and subtle periodicals of our times. All these and many more are subjects constantly recurring. Now I am confident that, whilst, as a body of Ministers, we have a general agreement on all these subjects, yet, as private thinkers, we have our own opinions. And, what is more, in the circumstances I indicate, we express them.

I would urge that, whilst principle and truth are never sacrificed, a wise and charitable consideration of circumstances should in such cases temper the expression of our judgment: nay, rather, that they should become factors in the formation and formulation of our views. We notoriously lose many of the higher class of youths born in our midst. Many causes contribute to this, I know; but is not one of them our implied or expressed unwillingness to sympathize with the outer form in which their lives have been cast? By their education and by all their surroundings they have had certain conceptions of life woven into the texture of their thought. I fear, if we use language too harsh, and make limits too rigid, we shall cause them to believe that the religion we teach is impossible, because incapable of overtaking the upward flow of human culture, and the asthetics both of

thought and life. I know indeed that I am treading on dangerous ground; but I trust you too much to fear that I shall be misunderstood. I have living cases in my mind. Depend upon it, if we are to hold our place relatively in the future, we must, as a Church, display a certain measure of godly and judicious elasticity. At least, we must be consistent: we must not declare that wrong in theory which we permit in practice.

I do not suggest that certain things should not be in a spirit intelligent and Christian, in a right way, and up to a clear point-declared out of harmony with consecration. But I am sure that we may take our idea of consecration from the cloister or the cell rather than from the free and beautiful in a holy life. We all agree that it is the spirit of the life that gives it consecration and it is profoundly significant that it is not the eye, nor the flesh, nor the life that is condemned; but 'the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life.' Believe me, brethren, I hold no loose views as to the meaning of a consecrated life. But it consists in spirit; and, like the rosetree, it will produce its own fruit. The outer form of that fruit will vary ; but it will always be the outcome of life. We cannot ignore the gradual growth in our midst of a really cultured class; which culture is that of our own times, not the culture of the past. Spiritual life is what

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teach that will persist through all the changing forms of thought and civilization. There may be a godly courtier as well as a godly cobbler : in one thing they are alike—in the reality of their spiritual life; but the amenities of their social life must differ. We may not forget the forces that have brought about our present civilization; they have altered much, they are altering more. They cannot alter the nature of true spiritual life; but they may modify

the asperities of our views concerning some outer matters which are not vital.

And springing out of this same source-wealth and culture amongst our laity arises another temptation, under certain circumstances, to some of the most gentle and ingenuous minds amongst our Ministry: the temptation to a refined fear, an apprehension springing from a consciousness of inferiority. It subdues the voice, tames the countenance, dims the eye and locks up the soul.

We must arm ourselves against this; and to do so let us impress ourselves profoundly with the Divine original and infinite dignity of the religion we teach: although it may fall to our lot to stand before our superiors in age, social position and acquisitions; yet let us be fearless, for we are preaching truths before which all human wisdom must be humbled; and are doing this at the bidding of God.

Another phase of this temptation, and one of more universal application, is that in our yearning desire to win the affections of our people we should endanger our moral courage in the pulpit. It is the strongest

instinct of the Pastor to seek the love of those whom he spiritually guides. But we must not do this at the peril of the loftier qualities that give strength to character. Principle outweighs even love. If affection should lead to the withholding of truth, the dignity of a ministry is gone. Pro

phet-like, we must fear no man, official or unofficial, influential or without influence, loved or unloved, cultured or untaught. Affection is precious, but truth is more so. Friendship is dear, but the responsibilities of our spiritual mission are infinitely dearer still. In the ministerial life the consciousness of fidelity is more precious than even affection.

And the same admonition will apply to popularity. There is some

thing subduing in a great crowd constantly eager for our words. The dread lest our words should be less fascinating opens up a fierce temptation; which, if not mightily resisted, must put shackles upon the mind and on the tongue. But he who would instruct and save men must not fear them. There must be no sophistry, no lifeless utterance of unpopular truth. Dread of opinion-the horrible nightmare of some of us-effeminates preaching, and takes the edge from truth. If any man needs valour in the pulpit, it is he who marshals a great crowd. But there is an equal temptation on the other side. may confound courage with defiance, and Christian independence with a pertinacious adhesion to our own conceits. What we want is the sacred courage begotten of love, which seeks alone the glory of God.

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A temptation, the force of which has frequently been present to me, is the danger lest, in our constant ministration to others of things spiritual, we should forget their bearing on ourselves. The first daisy of the spring delights us more than the daisied carpet of the summer. Custom and habit repress reflection. The child learning the use of the keyboard has to reflect before each muscle is bidden to do its work. But the master-hand accomplishes all without reflection. We are in the midst of sacred things; all the activities of our lives are associated with them; and the danger is lest their power and importance in themselves and specially in their application to us should be forgotten. Zeal for the Christ-like mind to be seen in others must appear chiefly in our resolve to extend it through all the powers of our own minds. What we teach others has a twofold appliIcation to ourselves. We enlarge Christ's kingdom most by intensifying our own similitude to Christ. Our first great work is at home.

Unless the roots of Christianity are in our own hearts, the fruits of Christianity will not appear in the lives of others. Let us preach from the magnificent inspiration of spiritual consciousness, and we shall preach with power.

Solitude and reflection are absolutely essential to the building up of character. We must have time and thought for our own spiritual development, or the Church will suffer.

And this temptation to forget ourselves is strengthened by another : that is, lest we keep only one set, so to speak, of spiritual functions at work in our people, and enervate the rest. With the mass of our people the evenings and the Sabbath are in reality all the time they have at their disposal. No Christian character can be built up without thought and reflection. I fear that we do not enough send our people home to think. We are doubtless on a high plane when we are getting good; but with the love of Christ in our hearts, we are, at proper times and seasons, on a still higher plane in doing good. I know that our efforts are all with the holiest purpose; but may we not, by providing too much public service for our people, rob ourselves and them of quiet hours for thought, solitude and hallowed reflection?

I may not speak of the peculiar temptations begotten of depression; nor of those begotten by apparent success. They are obvious enough. But there are some amongst us who, though not intensely emotional, are yet earnestly real. They labour

with what gifts they have for the glory of God. But they have not the apparent fruit of those who can stir feeling more than evoke thought. There are times when this is a terrible temptation. But, brethren, at such times, we must plant our foot firmly and believe. Let us use well our own gifts, for Christ's sake, and leave

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the rest to God. In faith there is force. To despair of results is never to achieve them. Christian work has been accomplished by strong confidence sustaining strong exertion. After all, it is a greater act of faith to labour on in confidence seeing no result, but still believing that it shall come, than to engage in renewed toil under the spur of visible success. No true worker for Christ sball work in vain.

But I dare not close without allusion to one conviction: it is that the peculiarities of our ministerial life open us to a fierce temptation to intellectual inertness. I do not for one moment suggest the absence of full and careful preparation. I believe the reverse of that. But our danger is lest all our thought and preparation tend directly towards the pulpit, and the lines of thought that we believe will be welcome in the pew, and-stop there! I know that ours is not, as a rule, a learned Ministry. But I believe that every Ministry should be learned' enough to grapple manfully with the intellectual difficulties of its age. Thought is in the front to-day. To be able to turn with exquisite facility to a passage in the original of Euripides is delightful; but it won't help me much to go out and meet the undertone which is swelling through Christendom: 'O explain this difficulty to me! Can this declaration of a master in science be true? The foundations of my immortal life seem to be giving way under me. I desire to believe; to hold to the faith that has hitherto made me happy and kept me pure. Help me!'

Brethren, that cry is as real, as strong, as passionate, and as profound as the cry of the emotion-swayed penitent, who, with tears and in a higher key, cries out, 'God be merciful to me a sinner! We dare not neglect it. But to meet it we must read; read well; and not read only

but think. Our age is alive with daring thought, which is penetrating all our homes. It steals into the mind of believer and unbeliever. And we must grapple with it by calm counter-reasoning; not necessarily in our pulpits, but from our lecture-desks and quietly, and at fitting seasons, in the homes of our people.

But for this there must be broad, deep, earnest study. Religion need not be dispensed by what is known conventionally as the scholar; but in our day it should be dispensed by men who keep pace with the times. Brethren, we must as a Ministry equal any other in the world in this matter. I repeat, it is not scholarship in its hackneyed sense, that I advocate. It is theology vitalized by the power of a Christ-like life, and animated by an intellect that can keenly observe the shifting phases of human civilization, and enter profoundly into sympathy with the deepest feelings of its age, that will make the decay of the pulpit impossible.

For this we must think and read, not as Methodists only, but as men. Lovers of home, we must be given to intellectual travel. It is the real thought and feeling of the deeply thoughtful section of civilized society that we want to discover. These for weal or woe-make public opinion for the near future. We may disregard what they say and think now, but we or our successors will have to face it in the sequel. It slowly filters to the less thoughtful classes; and perhaps for a decade affects the expressed or unexpressed public opinion of the mass. To understand it, to grapple with it, to stand foot to foot with it, panoplied by prayer, for the peoples' sake, and by anticipation to build a wall against it-in short, by a strength begotten of a close and tender communion with God, and an earnest and well-directed mental activity, to have