"took him and began to rebuke him, saying, Be it far from thee, Lord: this shall not be unto thee." We remember the severe reply which was returned to this presumptuous language.

"He turned, and

said unto Peter, Get thee behind me, Satan; thou art an offence unto me: for thou savourest not the things that be of God, but those that be of men." Peter had, indeed, given expression to the natural feelings of the human heart. His remark was conceived in the true spirit of worldly policy. But those feelings must be overcome, that spirit must be put down, in the Christian. Our Lord took advantage of the occasion to inculcate a great lesson: “Then said Jesus unto his disciples, If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me."

The first disciples of Christ gradually learned the temper and principles which were required by their Master Called by our Lord from their ordinary occupations to a wandering life of fatigue and privation, they had shewn their faith by forsak

ing all and following Him. They recognized in Him the predicted Messiah, they were content to learn of Him what they were to do. He honoured them by his society and friendship, and prepared them for the still higher honour of suffering for his name's sake. From the time He summoned them to attend upon his person, trials and dangers did but thicken round them. Their distinction over their brethren was but a distinction in suffering. The lesson was not an easy one to learn. But they were at length enabled to learn it. They learned to glory in tribulations, to find their pleasure in persecution, to "count not their lives dear unto them, that they might finish their course with joy." Their history is a practical comment on the words of the text," If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me."

We may not think, my brethren, that these words applied to those only who enjoyed the privilege of personal intercourse with our Lord. Let us examine them as

carefully as we may, we shall find nothing in them that qualifies the extent of their application. The precept could not be expressed in terms more comprehensive. To be a Christian is to follow Christ, and He himself says, "If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me."

We have here, therefore, a precept which is addressed to ourselves. It was professed for us, before we could make any profession for ourselves, that we should follow Christ. By coming here to worship Him, we solemnly renew that profession. We hear our Master's words now addressed to us, that unless we deny ourselves, and take up our cross, we cannot really follow Him.

Now what is the duty insisted upon in these words? What is it to deny ourselves, and take up our cross? The language is figurative, and it has been variously interpreted. It has sometimes been misapplied to support the excuses of fanaticism. It has sometimes been entirely explained away. Yet the words are expressive; the

figures are not only intelligible, but highly explanatory and picturesque. It is a reproach to human perverseness that all do not at once perceive and admit what is intended by denying ourselves, and taking up the cross. To deny ourselves, is evidently to resist our natural inclinations, and to sacrifice our feelings to a sense of duty. To take up our cross, is to be ready to undergo any suffering or inconvenience which may await us in the path of duty. The first disciples were called upon to leave their families and homes, and follow the steps of Him who had not where to lay his head; they were required to fear not them which killed the body, but to devote themselves to certain persecution. If we are in some respects in different circumstances, our calling is nevertheless so far similar, as to make it necessary for us fully to enter into the spirit of the words of the text.

The Christian life is from first to last but an exercise of self-denial. Faith itself is self-denial. Our minds naturally seek to understand every thing, and reject in

dignantly what they cannot master. Christianity brings before us a series of doctrines which are confessedly too high for our comprehension. It lays down views of the nature of God, of the condition of man, of the scheme of mediation, which are removed far above the reach of human reason; and it requires that we should not refuse to admit them on the ground of their difficulty, but that we should receive them as little children. Now after we have cultivated the intellect, and learned to prize it as our most excellent endowment, it is undoubtedly something very revolting to a sense of our dignity to acknowledge that we are bound to receive what we cannot comprehend, and to confess that, in the loftiest and worthiest subjects that can be submitted to us, we are not to reason, but simply to believe. It is undoubtedly true that this is the part suggested by true wisdom: that it is in point of fact the most reasonable thing in the world, to believe the word of Him who cannot lie. But still it is humiliating to confess the limited powers of that faculty