of piety without penitence. Moral perfection of this kind is not only without a parallel ; it is also without an approach. Men have never attained to it, and there is no way for them to climb thither. We can only look up to that perfection, serene, sinless, unsurpassable, and feel that here we are in sight of something which cannot be expressed except by saying that it is the glory of eternal spirit embodied in a person.

IV

But the force which resides in the person of Jesus is not exhausted in the production of this profound impression of its own spiritual and transcendent nature. It goes beyond this result of a vivid sense of the reality of the unseen. It has in itself a purifying, cleansing power, a delivering, uplifting, sanctifying power. The Gospel of Christ is the gospel of a person who saves men from sin.1 And herein it comes very close to the heart of a doubting age.

The great and wonderful fact of this expреrience, which can neither be questioned nor fully explained, is not involved in the theological speculations which have gathered about

The gospel of a Saviour.

it. The person of Jesus stands out clear and simple as a powerful Saviour of sinful men and women. In His presence, the publican and the harlot felt their hearts dissolve with I know not what unutterable rapture of forgiveness. At His word, the heavyladen were mysteriously loosed from the

imponderable burden of past transgression. He suffered with sinners, and even while He suffered He delivered them from the sharpest of all pains, - the pain of conscious and unpardoned evil. He died for sinners, according to His own word; and ever since, His cross has been the sign of rescue for humanity. Whatever may be the nature of that sublime transaction upon Calvary; whatever the name by which men call it, Atonement, Sacrifice, Redemption, Propitiation; whatever relations it may have to the eternal moral law and to the Divine righteousness, - its relation to the human heart is luminous and beautiful. It does take away sin. Kneeling at that holy altar, the soul at once remembers most vividly, and confesses most humbly, and loses most entirely, all her guilt. A sense of profound, unutterable relief, a sacred quietude, diffuses itself through all the recesses of the troubled spirit. Looking unto Christ crucified, we receive an assurance of sin forgiven, which goes deeper than thought can fathom, and far deeper than words can

measure.

"We may not know, we cannot tell
What pains He had to bear,
But we believe it was for us
He hung and suffered there.

"He died that we might be forgiven,
He died to make us good;
That we might go at last to heaven,
Saved by His precious blood."

This is not theory, this is not philosophy, this is not theology. It is veritable fact. The person Jesus, living with men, dying for men, has actually made this impression of pardon for the past and hope for the future, upon the heart of mankind. And from pure love of Him love which is first of all and most of all a sense of gratitude for this immeasurable service have blossomed, often out of the very abysses of sin and degradation, the saintliest and sublimest lives that the world has ever seen.

a

Now this, as I know from my own experience, is the gospel for doubting men, and for an age of doubt; the gospel of a Person who is a fact and a force, an evidence of the unseen, and a Saviour from sin. Can we preach it? Will we preach it? Then one thing is necessary for us, a thing which might not be necessary, perhaps, if our message were of another kind.

All knowledge, of the world, of human nature, of books, will be helpful and tributary; all gifts, of clear thought, of powerful speech, of prudent action, will be valuable and should be cultivated; but one thing will be absolutely and forever indispensable.

If we are to preach Christ we must know Christ, and know Him in such a sense that we can say with St. Paul that we are determined not to know anything save Jesus Christ and Him crucified.1 We must study Him in the record of His life until His character is more real and vivid to us than that of brother or friend. We must imagine Him with ardent soul, until His figure glows before our inward sight, and His words sound in our ears as a living voice. We must love with His love, and sorrow with His grief, and rejoice with His joy, and offer ourselves with His sacrifice, so truly, so intensely that we can say, as St. Paul said, that we are crucified by His cross and risen in His resurrection. We must trace the power of His life in the lives of our fellow-men, following and realizing His triumphs in souls redeemed and sins forgiven, until we know the rapture that thrilled the breast of a St. Bernard, a St. Francis, a Thomas à Kempis, a Samuel Rutherford, a Robert McCheyne; the chivalrous loyalty that animated a Henry Havelock, a Charles Kingsley, a Frederick Robertson, a Charles Gordon; the deep devotion that strengthened a David Brainerd, a Henry Martyn, a Coleridge Patteson. We must become the brothers of these men through brotherhood with Christ. We must kindle our hearts in communion with Him, by meditation, by prayer, and by service, which is the best kind of prayer. No day must pass in which we do not do something distinctly in Jesus' name, for Jesus' sake. We must go where He would go if He were on earth. We must try to do what He would do if He were still among men. And so, by our failure as well as by our effort, by the very contrast between our incompleteness and His perfection, the image of our Companion and our saving Lord will grow radiant and distinct within us. We shall know that potent attraction which His person has exercised upon the hearts of men, and feel in our breast that overmastering sense of loyalty