enmity against God? True. But who would fancy, as it twines its arms around a mother's neck, and kisses her, and sings itself asleep on her loving bosom, that the day can ever come when it will stab that bosom, and these little hands will plant wrongs sharper than a dagger in her bleeding heart? Yet that happens. And many things else happen that you would never fancy. The purple bells of the nightshade change into poisonous berries; the cold, dull flint sends out sparks of burning fire; the viper that lay quiet in the "bundle of sticks" is aroused by the heat, and leaps from the flames to fasten on an apostle's hand.

Sins, like seeds, lie dormant till circumstances call them into active existence. Aware of that, Satan knew right well what he was saying when, in reply to God's praise of his servant Job, he said with a sneer, "Doth Job fear God for nought? Hast thou not made an hedge about him, and about his house, and about all that he hath on every side? thou hast blessed the work of his hands, and his substance is increased in the land. But put forth thine hand now, and touch all that he hath, and he will curse thee to thy face." And so the good man had done, but for restraining grace. What a burst of pent-up passion, like the fic "y eruption of a volcano, breaks the seven days' awful silence, "Let the day perish wherein I was born, and the night in which it was said, There is a man child conceived; let that day be darkness. Why died I not from the womb? Why did the knees prevent me? Wherefore is light given to him that is in misery, and life unto the bitter in soul; which long for death, but it cometh not; and dig for it more than for hid treasures; which rejoice exceedingly and are glad when they can find the grave?" Here Job curses the day

that he was born; and he who curses God's provi dence has to take but another step, and he curses God himself. But that a divine arm had borne his burden, but that a divine hand curbed his passions, that woman, raging like a bear bereaved of her whelps, would have had no occasion to reproach him for his tame submission. No. He had vented curses, if not as loud, perhaps, like the river where it flows sullen and black, more deep than hers; and, standing side by side over a grave big with bodies and with griefs, they had raised their hands together against the heavens, and flung back their life at him who had embittered it. But for the grace of God Job had been no pattern of patience. And let the grace, which both sustained and restrained him, be withdrawn from any of us, and our natural enmity and corruption would break out after such a fashion as would astonish ourselves, shock the ears of the public, and lead many to hold up their hands to exclaim, Lord, what is man!

This enmity is a doctrine into which the believer does not need to be reasoned. He feels it. He reads its evidence elsewhere than in the Bible; he reads it in his own heart. He, who knows himself, knows it. Breaking out like old sores, the sins of heart, and speech, and conduct, by which it makes itself manifest, are his daily pain, and fear, and grief. Other soldiers have easy times of peace, when swords rust idly in their sheaths, and the trumpet sounds but for parade. Not he. There is never a day but he has to fight this enmity to the holy will and sovereign ways of God. His life is a long battle and a hard battle; and, like a soldier tired of war, though true to his colors, he often wishes that it were over, as, overcome of evil, and vexed with himself, he throws himself on his knees to

cry, Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me, Be merciful unto me, O God, be merciful unto me, Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.

This enmity is a thing, whose existence is taken for granted in the language of my text; for what need can there be to make peace between God and man if they are friends already? Does not the making peace between two nations imply that they had been standing to each other in the relation of antagonists, not of allies? Not friends required to be reconciled, but foes. When, with tabard and trumpet, royal heralds proclaim the peace, and cannon roar, and church-bells ring, and bonfires blaze, and bright illuminations turn night into day, in that darkened house, where the shouts of the crowd fall heavy on a widow's heart, who clasps her children in her arms, or where a father and mother are weeping over a bloody lock of their soldier boy's hair, they know too well that war went before the peace, a tempest of blood and carnage before that dear-bought calm. When, therefore, my text says that peace was made, it implies that, though unequal antagonists, more unequally matched than if a presumptuous worm, which I could crush with one stamp of my foot, should raise itself up to bar my path and to contend with me, God and man stood face to face, front to front, in opposition the one to the other. I pray the sinner to think of his madness in contending with God. The issue is not doubtful yonder, where the chaff and the whirlwind meet, or the blast and the autumn leaves meet, or the potsherd and the potter meet; where the unmasted, rudderless wreck meets the mountain-billow that lifts her up, and whirls her crashing on the reef, around which next moment

there float but some broken timbers. Nor is it doubtful here. Throw down, I pray you, the weapons of your rebellion; down on your knees; yield yourselves to the love of Christ; kiss the Son, lest he be angry and ye perish from the way; for, who has an arm like God, or who can thunder with a voice like his? Let the potsherd strive with the potsherds of the earth, but woe to the man that striveth with his Maker.

Animated by fierce despair, man would fight on, and fight it out to the last. If God is only set before me in the attitude and act of cursing, I believe I should curse back again. Such is our nature; and he is as ignorant of philosophy as of the gospel, who expects to conquer my enmity by the terrors of the law, or by any other argument than the love of God. But does God appear as reciprocating our enmity, as the enemy of man? No; not even when he condemns him. To suppose so were a great mistake, were to do base wrong to a gracious God. I know that some have painted him in dark, and gloomy, and repulsive colors, imputing to the Supreme Being their own vengeful and malignant passions; but that terrible spectre, who has a better claim than Death to be called the King of Terrors, is not the God of the Bible, is not the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, is not He in whose name I call on the sinner to come to the throne of grace, and throw himself with confidence at the feet of mercy. I cannot deny that God condemns, but I deny that he ever condemns willingly. He does not hate the sinner, though he hates his sins. He loves him; he loves you. And if that judge is not considered the enemy of the pale, guilty, trembling wretch, on whose doomed, sunken head, with a voice choked by emotion, and eyes dropping tears that leave no stain on the judge's ermine,

reluctant he pronounces the terrible sentence of death, is God to be considered the enemy even of him whom, after years of long suffering, he condemns to perdition? No. He has no pleasure in the death of the wicked. The man who is damned has been his own enemy. And should such, which God forbid, be your awful fate, I warn you that it will be the bitterest thought of hell, that God sought to be reconciled to you and you madly refused. Give me a voice loud enough to reach the ends of the earth, and I would raise it to proclaim that God is not willing that any man in that wide world should perish, but that all should come to him and live. Do men perish? Hear the reason, Ye will not come to me that ye might have life. Would you be saved? listen to these gracious words, Him that cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out, If any man thirst, let him come unto me, and drink.

II. God desires to be reconciled to his enemies.

He did me wrong; if there are faults on both sides, he was the first in the transgression; therefore, if we are to be reconciled, he, not I, must be the first to make advances! Such, if you ever undertook the too often thankless, and sometimes perilous office of a mediator between friends whom differences had estranged, you know to be the law which man lays down. Man stands upon his dignity. He talks loftily of his honour, and what he calls justice to himself and the interests of society. The injured says of the injurer, and each generally thinks not himself but the other such, He is to come to me, I am not to go to him. Indignant at the proposal of anything that wounds his pride, he spurns it away, asking, Am I to stand at his door in the humble attitude of a suppliant, to appear as if I were the