way, and cut down branches from the trees, and strewed them in the way and with this joyful troop He passed onward through the gates and along the streets of the beautiful city, even unto the temple. He entered the glorious edifice of God, and there, none resisting Him, He cast out all them that bought and sold in the temple, and overthrew the tables of the moneychangers, and the seats of them that sold doves, and said unto them, It is written, my house shall be called the house of prayer, but ye have made it a den of thieves." In the midst of his holy indignation, the loveliness of his gentle character shone forth. The blind and the lame came to Him. He could not turn away. Those who gazed in speechless astonishment at the awful severity with which He cleared the temple, might have said, "Why trouble ye the Master?" but Jesus was touched with compassion, and He healed them. In the temple, however, as at the Mount of Olives, there were those on the watch to persecute and revile Him. "When the chief priests and scribes saw the wonderful things that He did, and the children crying in the temple, and saying, Hosanna to the Son of David! they were sore displeased, and said unto Him, Hearest Thou what these say. And Jesus saith unto them, Yea; have ye never read, Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings thou hast perfected praise."

Such was the triumphal entry of Christ into Jerusalem such his reception into the temple. There were many who exulted at His presence: the expressive words are these, "A very great multitude." Alas!

alas! what a picture of the wretched instability of human kind-the deep corruption of the human heart. The senses were affected, the imagination excited. There was no radical change of heart. In a very few days, another shout was heard from those eager voices, and the cry was then, "Crucify Him! crucify Him!" Among the chief rulers many believed on Him. His miracles of love, the wisdom and the spirit by which He spake, convinced them that Jesus was indeed the Christ; but they did not confess Him, for they loved the praise of men more than the praise of God; and of His own immediate followers-who were faithful found in that dark hour of trial? Where was Bartimæus, so lately restored to sight, who, rising up at once, had followed Jesus in the way, glorifying God? — where Zacchæus, who had made so honest and so open a profession? - and Lazarus, but just restored to life? They were like frightened birds when the thunder-storm is abroad, shrouded in silence and in secrecy. His very disciples, His own personal companions—where were they? One betrayed Him with a kiss; another, His distinguished friend, denied all knowledge of Him with curses and with oaths; nay, all forsook Him, and fled; and, as in the garden of Gethsemane there was no human arm held out to support Him in His fainting agonies, so, before His accusers, not a voice was raised to vindicate His spotless character.

Is there no lesson to be learnt from this for ordinary life? There is, indeed. We please ourselves with thinking how devout we should have been in those

times of open vision when God appeared on earth, and held converse as a friend with man; when, as George Herbert has said, in fine but quaint language, addressing himself to the eternal God,

One might have sought and found Thee presently

At some fair oak, or bush, or cave, or well:

"Is my God this way?" "No," they would reply;
"He is to Sinai gone, as we heard tell:

List, ye may hear great Aaron's bell."

We glow and burn with indignation at the thought of what the meek and innocent Jesus suffered from His cruel foes: we wonder at the slowness, at the want of zeal, in His disciples to defend their Master. How little do we know of ourselves! such as we now are, wherever His holy faith is concerned, such should we have been then toward Himself. Alas! how true it is, We are not His 'mid cross, and shame, and sword; But we are His 'mid pomp, and wealth, and bliss. We are faithful when called upon to walk by sight, and not by faith; faithless, when called upon to walk by faith, and not by sight. The gospel of our crucified Lord is not to be taken up and thrust away again just as we will, or will not. It will not suit itself to man's humour. A man may not, as it were, lay himself out for it when in the mood, when imagination is winged for rapturous aspirings, when the senses are warm and glowing and plastic to each forcible and affecting impression. This is a hackneyed truth you tell me—-I allow it. But Coleridge has well said, "I think, that many truths of high importance lie bed-ridden in the dormitory of the soul, side by side with the most ex

ploded errors." It is indeed, "hard, rough work to bring God into his own world;" for not only did He come, but now He comes unto His own and His own receive Him not. His gospel cannot be said to be received by some, as the glad tidings of great joy, for this simple reason,-it is not met by faith in them that hear it. To speak of the great and blessed Mediator of that gospel to many, is in the expressive language of an old writer, "like pointing out the sun to a blind man, or scattering flowers over a dead body." Nay, the voices of the world seem often to return this answer to the pleadings of its Saviour's boundless love: Art thou come hither to torment us before our time? what have we to do with thee, Jesus, thou son of the most high God? There is nothing extraordinary in this to those who are acquainted with the teaching of the Holy Bible. We read there, not only of the willingness of God to save man, but of the indisposedness of man's natural heart to be saved. A new power must be brought to bear upon the lifeless and stubborn mass of unregenerate nature; a heavenly leaven must quicken, and lighten, and change the tough and heavy lump of earthly dough. "The dove must settle on the cross," before the cross can be taken up as the most glorious burden man can once bear. But when the religion of Jesus Christ is ever received, not in word but in power, not in profession but into the heart, not with the cold assent of the understanding, but with the love of the whole soul; then all vain imaginations are cast down; and not only Christ triumphant, but Christ crucified is gladly re

ceived: then not only do we exclaim with Peter, "It is
good to be with the Lord in his transfiguration, with the
Son of God in the light of heavenly glory;" but we say
with the few broken-hearted followers that took their
station quietly but fearlessly in the very face of perse-
cution and insult beneath the cross: Lord, it is good
for us to be here with the Son of Man in his shame and
misery." It is, indeed, a glorious privilege,
"not only
to believe on Him, but also to suffer for his sake;" and
when we feel this, then we can join with the poet,
Cowper, in his exquisite prayer:

"Lord, who hast suffered all for me,
My peace and pardon to procure;

The lighter cross I bear for thee,

Help me with patience to endure.

The storm of loud repining hush;

I would in humble silence mourn;
Why should the unburnt, though burning bush,
Be angry at the crackling thorn?

Perhaps some golden wedge suppress'd,

Some secret sin offends my God:

Perhaps that Babylonish vest,
Self-righteousness, provokes the rod.

Ah! were I buffeted all day,

Mock'd, crown'd with thorns, and spit upon;

I yet should have no right to say,

My great distress is mine alone.

Let me not angrily declare,

No pain was ever sharp like mine;

No murmur at the cross I bear,

But rather weep, rememb'ring thine."

Oh, let us then ever bear in mind, that we can never

have any claim to rejoice in the consolation which is in