unknown. Life shall be the everlasting heritage of the saints of God-a life of joy, of holiness, of happiness, and peace to all. The cessation of tears is placed on this special ground, that "there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain." The Death in this dispensation seizes on all things seen; it collects its spoils from youth and age, beauty and deformity. Its footprints are to be traced in every department of the creation. geologist detects the proofs of his presence in the deepest excavations, in subterranean chambers, in mines, in fossils, in petrifactions, and in gigantic remains old as the history of the present collocation of the earth. The botanist hears annually his oft-proceeding footfall in the shrill winds, and the dropping leaves, and the fading flowers. Even the astronomer thinks he sees in the moon, not the beauty of an untainted orb and an unfallen population, but evidences of gigantic wreck and wide-spread ruin, as if the attendant of the earth had felt the shock and shares in the fallen grandeur of the superior planet. In our frame it needs not the eye of the physiologist to detect the seeds of death, or the multiplying proofs of its approach. "All flesh is grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of the grass; the grass withereth, and the flower thereof fadeth away, but the word of the Lord endureth for ever." "It is appointed unto all men once to die." "Man cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down; he fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth not." But these the findings of science, and these the assertions of Scripture, shall cease to be true of that new and glorious experience into which the sons of God shall enter. The body shall deposit in the grave all it contracted by sin, and earth shall surrender to its last baptismal fires all it has inherited by sin, and tree-like it shall flourish by the waters of life, and we shall be ever happy under its shadow. Nor shall any thing occur in the shining cycles of millennial felicity to remind us of death. "It is a world where every loveliest thing Is all transparent substance; the flower fades not, But every eve gives forth a fragrant light, The beautiful die never here Here are no earthquakes, storms, nor plagues. Sorrow is the heir-loom of in the tapestry of royal halls, There are aching hearts where Nor shall there be any more sorrow-that secret and deep sorrow which cannot find tears. humanity; its records are found and in the chronicles of hamlets. no tears are seen, and sorrows too deep for sighs; there are martyrs without visible fagots and flames. This, too, shall be done away, for there shall be no more sorrow. What sorrow has been felt in the hearts of parents at the wayward and criminal conduct of children! What sorrow has circled round and crusted the spirit of ardent philanthropy, as it received ingratitude for its recompense from those for whom it suffered and sacrificed! Who has not been forced at times and under circumstances of singular misfortune to exclaim with the patriarch, "All these things are against me!" And even those voices of consolation that have cheered and sustained us, have been voices crying in the wilderness, and bearing on their wings the wilderness air. Under its most favourable aspects-in circumstances of wealth, of honour, of freedom; under purple, ermine, and lawn, there are heavy hearts which sorrow penetrates as does the dew the soil, and each knows best its own bitterness. Many a hand holds a cup filled from that which overflowed in Gethsemane-hesitating to lift it to the lips that pray, "O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me." There are brows still, about which are crowns of thorns; and Christianity still takes up its cross and follows Jesus. Many a Shunamite woman, when asked, "Is it well with thee? is it well with thy husband? is it well with thy child?" answers, "It is well," while her heart is breaking. The sorrows of men are as varied as their circumstances. But in this new age, as no tear will rush into the eye, no sorrow will vex the heart. Here joy enters into the heart; there the heart shall enter into joy. Our days, like the hours on the sundial, shall be measured by sunshine. "The ransomed of the Lord shall come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads; they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away." The whole brood of sin shall be excluded. Whatever it brought into the world shall be swept out of it; whatever man forfeited shall be restored, and that restored estate more beautiful and more precious a thousandfold. And this shall add intensely to every element of joy, that there shall be no possibility of apostasy, nor temptation to it. Set your affections on this future apocalypse of joy, of beauty, and of happiness. It is revealed, not as a specimen of poetry, or for the gratification of mere human feelings of delight, but to draw up our hearts to its clear and unclouded sunshine; to enable us to look with comparative indifference on the gilded toys and bright glare of the things of this life, and so pass as strangers and pilgrims, looking for a city that hath foundations. Sustained and inspired by so bright a hope, we may well bear patiently the afflictions of this present life. These will only render the future more welcome, and, if possible, more beautiful by contrast. The weary traveller enjoys best his home; the child sleeps sweetest after crying. The weary Christian, who experienced no respite from his conflicts on earth, and descended to the grave exhausted and all but overcome; who passed through much tribulation; who bled, fainted, and failed by the way-will enjoy the refreshment of that rising morning, and feel it worthy of the name by which he had often anticipated it on earth, "the rest that remaineth for the people of God." Tell others of its prospects. Show them the way. If it be precious to us, let us not try to monopolize it. We shall enjoy it just in proportion as we labour to extend it to others; it grows by diffusion; it decreases by hoarding. 69 LECTURE V. ALL THINGS NEW. "He that sat upon the throne said, Behold, I make all things new. And he Eaid unto me, Write: for these words are true and faithful."-Revelation xxi. 5. THESE words indicate the vast material transformation of which our earth will be the subject during the millennial epochour resurrection bodies shall not undergo a greater change. The Creator of earth, who sits on the throne, is here declared to be its Regenerator; and by referring to Rev. v. 6, we ascertain the permanent character in which he sits upon the throne: "And I beheld, and lo, in the midst of the throne stood a Lamb as it had been slain," (ós towaɣnévov, as if just slain in sacrifice.) It is therefore the Lamb upon the throne who thus makes all things new. This throned one is the most august and wondrous spectacle in heaven or earth. It is the symbol of suffering continued amid the pageantry of royal rank. He who hung upon the tree reigns on the seat of empire; the hand holds the sceptre that once clenched the nail; the brow wears many crowns around which was a wreath of thorns; he who could barely find a grave has found a throne; he whom men execrated rules over all. The crucified is seen in the glorified; the man of sorrows is not hid in the majesty of the King of kings. Thus Jesus retains within the vail, and will retain for ever, the marks of suffering. These traces in Him who is on the throne are the memorials of the most solemn fact ever done in time; the epochal hour of time, the central act of Providencethe crucifixion. His last cry on Calvary is thus perpetuated in multiplied echoes; the destroyer of death is ever associated with the death by which he destroyed it. His sacrifice is too stupendous a fact ever to be forgotten. It remains an eternal phenomenon. This is honour. This shame is higher, holier, brighter than all honour. These wounds were the weapons of his victory; this suffering was the battle that ended in our salvation. Heaven is not ashamed of it, should we? We are thankful he is thus a throned, as he was once a crucified, Christ. If he had never died, no mercy would be possible; if he had never risen and reigned, none could reach us. His death makes our salvation possible, his life renders it actual. He bestows from the throne what he purchased on the cross, so making good as a king what he merited as a priest. It is thus that every blessing we receive is a throne blessing as well as a crown blessing. The cypress and the palm, battle and victory, shame and glory, death and life, cross and crown, are the warp and woof of that robe of righteousness which is the only costume of the Millennium. Humanity in its tenderest aspect is thus in the closest presence of Deity. The Incarnate One is there. My flesh is there. I have not only relatives-parents and children-but my Elder Brother, yea, closer than a brother, preoccupying a seat, and preparing all things new for me. It is he who says, "I make all things new." "By Him all things were made," sin excepted, which is a blot, an interpolation. All things-rock, mountain, river, sea, star, moon, and sun-emmet, eagle, elephant-heathbell, oak, and forest-all were made by him, and still bear indelible traces of his power, benevolence, and Godhead. We still hear his voice in the thunder, and see his glory in the lightning, and feel the pulses of his life in all that lives. At first all things were made "very good." Sin, however, entered, and death by sin, and these have marred and mutilated the fair face of things. The bright mirror is broken, but its fragments show how beautiful it was. The glorious temple is unroofed, and the shechinah is quenched, and its altars are cold, and weeds luxuriate in it, and all venomous reptiles crawl and breed in it; but its dilapidated walls, and its broken columns, and the live sparks that leap occasionally from the smouldering ruin, indicate in some degree what it was. It shall not be left so for ever. The Creator is to come forth again as its Regenerator. Deity will, as Deity alone can, remake all. He will harmonize all its discords-allay its fever-and |