the testator; for the saints, who lived in the days that preceded his advent, were received to glory, if I may so speak, upon his bond, his promise to pay. And if the fruit of his incarnation was thus anticipated, why not the fact of it? Viewed in this light, how do these Old Testament stories acquire a deeper and more enduring interest to us? In the guide of Abraham's pilgrimage I see the guide of my own. Jacob's success in wrestling imparts vigor to my prayers. To think that the same arm which rolled back the gates of the sea, and stopped the wheels of the sun, for us hung in feeble infancy around a mother's neck; that the same voice which spake in Sinai's rolling thunders, for us wailed feebly on Mary's bosom, and cried on the cross, I thirst; that the same august being who delivered the law amid the majesty of heaven, for us died to fulfil it amid the deepest ignominies of earth; that he before whom Moses did exceedingly fear and quake, and Joshua fell, and the holy prophet fainted, was that very same Jesus whose gentle manners won the confidence of childhood, and whose kind eye beamed forgiveness on a poor, frail, fallen woman, as she stooped to wash his feet with tears, and wipe them with the hairs of her head, these things should exalt Jesus higher in our esteem, and endear him more and more to our hearts, What a combination of grandest majesty, and most gentle mercy shines in this visible "Image of the invisible God!" Surely he is worthy of your acceptance, and reverence, and love!

In turning your attention now to the person and work of him who is "the image of the invisible God," let me introduce the subject by remarking,

III. That the greatness of the worker corresponds to the greatness of the work.

It is not always so in the providence of Him who saves by many or by few. Sometimes God accomplishes the mightiest ends by the feeblest instruments. He hath made the foolish things of the world to confound the wise, and the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty, and out of the mouth of babes and sucklings ordained strength.

For example, many of the lovely islands of the Pacific are formed entirely of coral, while others are protected from the violence of the waves by a circular rampart of the same material. Founded in the depths of ocean, this coral wall rises to the surface, where it indicates its presence by a long white line of breakers. The giant rollers that come in from the sea, and threaten with their foaming crests to sweep that island from its base, spend their strength and dash their waters into snowy foam against this protection wall. And thus, as within a charmed circle, while all without is a tumbling ocean, the narrow strip of water that lies between this bulwark and the shore is calm as peace, reflecting, as a liquid mirror, the boats that sleep upon its surface, and the stately palms that fringe the beach. These stupendous breakwaters, that so greatly surpass in stability and strength any which our art and science. have erected, are the work of what? That God who employed the hornet to drive the Amorite out of Canaan, has constructed them by means as insignificant. They are the masonry of an insect-an insect so small that the human eye can hardly detect it, and so feeble that an infant's finger could crush it. They are built by the coral worm, and I have been told by

those who have seen these emerald isles, set within their silver border, like gems on the ocean's bosom, that the contrast is most surprising between the greatness of the work and the littleness of the worker.

Turning from the Book of Nature, let me now take an illustration from the Book of Revelation. Look upon this picture of desolation wrought on the land of Israel: "A day of darkness and of gloominess, a day of clouds and of thick darkness, as the morning spread upon the mountains; a great people and a strong; there hath not been ever the like, neither shall be any more after it, even to the years of many generations. A fire devoureth before them, and behind them a flame burneth. The land is as the garden of Eden before them, and behind them a desolate wilderness; yea, and nothing shall escape them. The appearance of them is as the appearance of horses, and as horsemen, so shall they run. Like the noise of chariots on the tops of mountains shall they leap, like the noise of a flame of fire that devoureth the stubble, as a strong people set in battle array. Before their face the people shall be much pained; all faces shall gather blackness. The earth shall quake before them, the heavens shall tremble, the sun and the moon shall be dark, and the stars shall withdraw their shining and the Lord shall utter his voice before his army for his camp is very great."

In answer to the cry of innocent blood, and to crush a horrible rebellion, we covered the sea with sails, and, summoning our soldiers from distant colonies, with great preparations and after gigantic efforts, we poured them from crowded ships on the shores of a revolted land. But whence did God bring that mighty army described by the prophet in such vivid colors? Came

they from heaven? Were its portals flung open, that troops of embattled angels might rush forth to avenge his cause? Or did he summon the Assyrian, the Egyptian, the Persian, the Greek, the Roman, to pour their armed hosts on a doomed, devoted, guilty land? No. The earth quaked, but not beneath the tread of armies. The sun, moon, and stars were darkened, but not by a cloud of angel wings. God summoned only the locust from its native marshes, and bade the brood of worms carry desolation into the land. It was summer yesterday. The fields waved with corn, the orchards were white with almond blossoms, the clustering vines, embraced the hills, and the forests were clad in a broad mantle of living green. The locust comes, and it is winter. The flowers are gone, and fields are bare, and leafless trees, as if imploring pity, lift their naked arms to heaven; and, bearing on it the wail of famine, the wind, that yesterday breathed perfumes, and danced in joy over the corn, and played and sung among the leaves, now sweeps in howling blast over utter devastation. The locust has executed its commission. It has done God's work, and in that work of divine judgment, we see again a remarkable contrast between the greatness of the action and the littleness of the agent,

In his providence and the government of his people, how often has God produced great effects by most inadequate means? He seems to do it for the very purpose of showing that, whatever be the instrument, the work, of goodness or of judgment, is his own. He is a jealous God, and will not give his glory unto another. In Moses, for example, we see one sprung of the enslaved race. Nor does he crouch before their tyrant with awe in his look, and in his hand a humble peti

tion; but stands erect in Pharaoh's hall, and, stamping his foot, demands that his brethren be free. In David we see a beardless lad, attired in a shepherd's peaceful garb, who carries some rustic provision to his brothers in the camp, and gazes around him with the keen curiosity of a peasant on all the circumstance, and pomp, and pride of war. Next day, where is he? What a change! Amid beating hearts, a breathless suspense. eyes dim with anxiety, that gentle boy, his mother's love, his old father's care, is doing brave battle with a giant in the presence of two great armies, and plucking the laurels from Goliah's brow.

Not, perhaps, in outward aspect, but in fact and truth, how marked the contrast between these scenes and that which salvation presents! Redemption is a great work, a most glorious work; one, amid God's other works and through all past ages, without a parallel. Do not despise it, or reject it, no, nor neglect it; for how shall you escape if you neglect this great salvation? It is of all God's works the greatest; it is his "strange" work. That cross on Calvary, which mercy raised for you, cost more love, and labor, and wisdom, and skill, than all yon starry universe. With the earth its emerald floor, its roof the sapphire firmament, the sun and stars its pendent lamps, its incense a thousand fragrant odors, its music of many sounds and instruments the song of groves, the murmur of the streams, the voices of winged winds, the pealing thunder, and the everlasting roar of ocean, Nature's is a glorious temple! Yet that is a nobler temple, which, with blood-redeemed saints for its living stones, and God and the Lamb for its uncreated lights, stands aloft on the Rock of Ages-the admiration of angels and the glory of the universe. Earth wears on her bosom no