solitary. Everywhere over this entire planet, affinities pervade all things. And far as the eye or telescope can range the golden tracts above us, where suns and planets are scattered in such prodigal exhaustlessness, all matter is bound together by sympathies and sweet influences. Those glittering orbs all revolve in concert, and resemble each other, differing only as "one star differeth from another in glory."

But when "a child is born" whose name is "Mighty God;" when the Creator becomes a creature, and dwells in poverty and sorrow upon the earth he had formed; then, then there is an unfathomed wonder which must for ever remain in isolated awe and grandeur. Then a Being mingles in human affairs, in whom are combinations to be found nowhere else in the universe: time and eternity united-the finite and the infinite; the Ancient of days become an Infant of days. In heaven, in earth, in all the cycles of the past, in all the works of God, there is nothing like this; nothing can be in the same category. Here is a phenomenon which stands, and must for ever stand, by itself; a Being moving through the earth, yet not of the earth-never had the earth been trodden by such a form; a man, yet fairer than the children of men-immeasurably above humanity; a mortal descending into the grave, yet not of the grave-never had the grave received such a tenant; dead, and yet "the resurrection and the life." In short, ascending to heaven, this amazing Being is not of heaven. Weakness, pain, violence, blood, death, what have these to do in heaven? But he enters, heaven, and sits upon

the throne, bearing marks of weakness, pain, violence, blood and death; an object of astonishment and rapture to all the angelic hosts. "And I beheld, and lo, in the midst of the throne, and of the four living creatures, and in the midst of the elders, stood a Lamb as it had been slain. And I beheld, and I heard the voice of many angels round about the throne, and the living creatures, and the elders, and the number of them was ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands, saying with a loud voice, 'Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power, and wisdom, and strength, and honor, and glory, and blessing.'"

II. This great mystery of godliness of which I have attempted to speak is, you know, the burden of prophecy, the rapture of Apostles and Evangelists. Of course— having no ideas, no illustrations, but those gathered from the earth-it is impossible not to fail on such a theme. Who can utter the mighty acts of the Lord? who can show forth his praise? Above all, who can compass this most amazing stoop and self-abasement? I have said enough, however, to denote the solitude in which the God-man was necessarily placed by his very nature. I pass, now, to a second view of this mysterious Being. In his all-comprehending mind there was, of course, an adequate motive for thus taking on our humanity. He came into the world on an enterprise of vast importance. And in reference to this enterprise, with what painful emphasis might he not say, "I have trodden the winepress alone; and of the people there was none with me ?"

It is a great and blessed thing for us, my brethren,

that such a Being has lived upon this earth. And certainly one design of his mission was, to recover for man the ideal, the lost type, of a perfect humanity; to elevate our race, not only by the promise of supernatural aid, but by the exhibition of a perfect model.

Recollect, it was not particles of matter, but a true humanity, which the Son of God assumed. "The Word was made flesh," "forasmuch as the children were made partakers of flesh and blood, he also took part of the same." This is a truth which invests our nature with unspeakable dignity. When I reflect upon this fact, I rejoice that I am a man. I would rather be a man than an angel. "He took not on him the nature of angels." It was not in the face of an angel, but "in the face of Jesus Christ," that "God commanded the light of the knowledge of the glory of God to shine." In my nature the divine grace and beauty appeared here on this theatre where I dwell; and yonder in that heaven to which I aspire, the divine glory now reigns, and will for ever reign, in my nature. O man, know thyself. Bow in reverence before that humanity, which at first was made in God's own image; and which hath been chosen as the mysterious abode-I had almost said the Shekinah-in which "the brightness of the Father's glory and the express image of his person," hath veiled himself.

And, now, in this aspect, contemplating the Redeemer in his human life and character, how isolated was he, how desolate his path, what a solitary dweller was he on this ungrateful earth, and amidst its degenerate children.

"Think of his loneliness in places dim,

When no man comforted nor cared for him."

In meditating upon the lonesomeness of Jesus, we are apt to follow him as he goes apart into some desert place, or in his solitary journeys through Samaria, or retiring into the mountain and spending the night in prayer. But this is a mistake. Referring to his hours of seclusion, he said to his disciples, "I have meat to eat that ye know not of." Such a Being must have felt his loneliness most intensely, when most intimately in contact with men. Then "the light shone in darkness, and the darkness" (not only did not sympathize with it, but) "comprehended it not."

He was alone

with none to understand him—in his views and estimates of the world and all that is in the world. I know that in his innermost life, every human being is alone. In its "hidden sphere of joy and woe," each spirit dwells as a hermit. And I know, too, that in proportion as a man is exalted above those around him, his very elevation must condemn him to a certain kind of solitude. The summits which soar and pierce the clouds must be solitary. But there is no analogy between this inner nature, or preeminence, which separates one member of a fallen race from other members, and that divine perfection which separated from them all him who was "holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from sinners." As the "Son of Man" we may say of him, with the prophet, "who can declare his generation ?” for he was identified not with any family or people, but with our nature, and was, therefore, human, as no child

of Adam can be. But as the "Son of God" surveying the world he had made, "his thoughts were not our thoughts," his conceptions were as immeasurably above human conceptions "as the heavens are high above the earth.” The more carefully you study his life, the more will you feel, that to all, even to his disciples, he was wholly unintelligible. "He was in the world, and the world was made by him, and the world knew him not.”

He was alone with none to appreciate him-in his motives. Selfishness is the radical sin, the essence of depravity; it alienates man from God, and estranges him from his brother. Jesus dwelt in this world, the impersonation of love. His sermons were the beseechings of love, his miracles the interpositions of love, his tears the irrepressible gushings of love. So peculiar were his yearnings over human misery, that even the exhaustless treasures of the Greek language could furnish no vehicle for their utterance; and the Holy Spirit formed a new word—a word never before used-to express the pangs of the God-man.* So disinterested was his devotion to man, and such his entire consecration to others, even his enemies, that his revilers said, “He saved others, himself he can not save." Where could such a heart look for sympathy? who among the people could appreciate motives like these?

I might apply similar remarks to all his life and character. They were original manifestations. Even the infidel Rousseau exclaims, "Could Jesus have been a

*Еorλaуvio On" When he saw the multitude, he was moved with compassion on them."-MATTHEW, ix. 36