which un statements as these. Our Lord tells us that The love if we are ashamed of Him and His Word derlies the severity of now, He will be ashamed of us, and refuse Scripture. to own us in the day of Judgment. And the language seems hard: the demand upon our poor human feebleness seems excessive. How are we, we ask, to keep our feet against the strong current of the society in which we move? How are we, especially if we are young, to meet the subtle objections of the sceptic; or the polished sneer of the man of the world? or, how are we to endure the laughter and ridicule of our companions when they turn against us, as we know they would if we were to follow our convictions and give ourselves to Christ? Why, it is too heavy a burden to lay upon creatures like us. we should deceived. But consider, my dear young friend, that It is well that if our love for Christ be not sufficiently not be selfstrong to nerve us to "endure hardness" for His sake, it is not real love, but only the appearance of it, and therefore we are deceiving ourselves on the all-important fact of our union with Christ. Is it not well that we should be aware of this? Is it not well that we should understand how we are If there is spiritual life in us we shall have situated? Christ would not, I think, condemn us altogether for one act of cowardice. No! nor for more than one. He received back into His favour the recreant disciple who had denied Him three times with oaths and curses; and He will deal as tenderly and lovingly with us if we show the same sorrow and repentance that Peter did. But He would have us know that the habitual shrinking from the confession of His name -the constant unwillingness to have our real sentiments known,—the systematic refusal to bear the reproach which attaches to the true and sincere following of Christ-the sustained silence, which really amounts to a tacit approval of the world's antagonism to the Saviour, and of its dislike of His Word—that these things, and such as these, distinctly indicate that there has been as yet no selfsurrender to Christ, no belief in His name, no devotion to His service, no appreciation of His love. The owner of an orchard goes out, at a certain time of the year, to graft his trees. something to He inserts the carefully-prepared scion; he binds it tightly; he wraps it round with clay to exclude the air, and sun, and rain; and show. : leaves it, all being done. He goes to another tree, and yet another, -right through his orchard. After a time he enters his orchard again what does he find? That in some cases the grafts are putting forth leaves, and buds, and thus manifest life. These are his successes. But in other cases, things are just as he left them months ago. These are his failures. Now what do the leaves and buds proceed from? From living union with the tree. Everybody knows that; and the fact of the living union is established by the results that are apparent. But what do I hear in the orchard? I hear the "failures " querulously putting in a claim to be reckoned with the " successes." "We," say they, are touching the tree as well as you: we are bound tightly; we are wrapped round with clay. Why are we to be despised? We belong to the tree like the others." "Oh, no," is the answer; "do not deceive yourselves. If you belonged to the tree, you would have something to show." 66 II. DECISION. on Mount The scene IT is early morning-centuries ago. All Carmel. night long the thousands of Israel have been tramping along the highway, with clatter and wrangling; but now they gather silently in large masses on the slope of Mount Carmel, waiting for Elijah to come. Glittering in his robes, and surrounded by his courtiers, Ahab the king is already there. Not far off him may be seen the white vestments of the prophets of Baal,-four hundred and fifty of them,—an imposing body of men. The people stand aloof; and overhead is the calm Syrian blue; around, the cool breath of the dawn; behind, the wash of the waves of the Mediterranean Sea; beneath, the broad, fair, fertile plain, and the walls of Jezreel, and the towers of the great idol temple, rising over the foliage, and catching the first rays of the rising sun. Soon the prophet appears,-a solitary figure, clad in a rough sheepskin cloak, with wild shaggy hair flowing down his back: a man obviously who stands in the presence of God, and to whom king, and courtiers, and priests, and multitude are alike nothing. Not deigning, as it appears, to notice either the king or the Baal-worshippers, he advances to the people, and, fixing his keen dark eye upon them, puts the question, "How long halt ye between two opinions? If the Lord be God, follow Him; but if Baal, then follow him." The people answered (we are told) not a word. How should they? There was nothing to be said. The very question showed them their baseness, and their sin. When conscience was uppermost, it was Jehovah; when passion took the reins and drove, it was Baal. When the king was near, they shouted for Baal; amongst themselves, in their families, they recalled the days of old, and remembered the covenant with Jehovah. In their vigour and strength the fascinating sensualism of the idolatrous services swept them off their feet, |