of the men would flow towards the sublime realisation of a new heaven and a new earth, instead of incessantly trying to stem the corruption that makes the fabric of society rotten. Well, then, at present the good man has to come forward and pay in money or bodily labour, or wisdom, or experience, for the errors of the bad. He has to pay his money for the losses of the spendthrift ; he has with his wisdom to pay for the folly of the fool; with his truthfulness he pays for the lying of the liar; he has to pay for the theft of the man who is a robber, and for the mistakes of the inexperienced. And that is how the world goes on. If you take away the vicarious sacrifice of the good, if you remove those amongst us who stand between the sinner and his sin, who stand between the sinner's work and the evil which follows that work, I say you take away all that holds human society together, and the world is turned into a chaos, in comparison with which the struggles of antediluvian reptiles become manifestations of sweetness and light.

147. But when I behold the good man voluntarily bearing the sins and carrying the sorrows of the bad, how changed has the idea of suffering become! Sacrifice is beginning to grow bright.

drawing round to the light.

The great orb is slowly

How noble is the sacrifice

of patriotism! It is written on the page of history, how when great ministers have seen the evils of their country, and have had the wisdom to remedy those evils, they have been despised and rejected, or hampered, in the execution of their noble designs, yet have manfully

struggled through, and have not despaired of their country. They have laid down their money, and their time, and their wisdom, and their pleasure, and their life in this world, for the sake of carrying out some great reform; and they have achieved this through the sufferings of their own bodies, and minds, and spirits. It is most pertinent to the present time to look back, for instance, only so far as the reign of Queen Elizabeth, and see how her great ministers saved us and saved our country through the sacrifice of themselves. I know nothing more tragic in its way than Mr. Froude's account of men like Cecil Lord Burleigh, and Walsingham, those patriots who saved Elizabeth and created England. Even now the patience, the disappointments, the fidelity of Burleigh stand out as grand sacrifices made for his country. Ingratitude, injustice, abuse, and treachery were his rewards. As for Walsingham, he was a still more complete martyr. queen and the honour of his country more than once, he died a ruined beggar, unjustly branded with a public disgrace. And time would fail me to tell of the Admirals who won the Armada, of Sir John Hawkins, of Lord Howard, of Drake, with a host of ragged sailors without rations, without pay, without clothing, fighting, conquering, suffering for the queen amidst what indignities and neglects! Crews mowed down by famine, dysentery, fatigue, and hardships of all kinds; yet holding out, uncomplaining, full of enthusiasm. From the highest to the lowest in England's hour of need there was voluntary, there was vicarious sacrifice; and

After having saved the life of his

how beautiful, how sublime was the spectacle! Let us remember that, my brethren, and take heart when we hear that England has no courage, no patriotism left. We are indeed a peace-loving people; we are no doubt a money-getting and a selfish people; and we have our great national sins. But let no man say that when the hour comes we shall not be prepared to suffer for the right once more. You look at men in a time of peace and say what they will be in a time of war. But you cannot judge so; wait till a cry goes through the land; wait for the foul injustice, and oppression and great wrong; wait for the helpless thousands to be saved; wait for the captives to be set free; and when the time comes for a struggle-which God avert-the strength, the enthusiasm, the sacrifice of England, and England's sons will not be wanting. It has been so in the past, and it will be so in the future. Bright, bright is the sword of liberty, bright is the shield of patriotism, and the sacrifice of those who give themselves for their country, is it not glorious?

148. But if patriotism makes sacrifice beautiful, so does love; but is it not love in every form which ennobles sacrifice, whether love of country (which is patriotism), or love of children, love of father, husband, wife, or friends? Once more, then, behold vicarious suffering made bright through love. Is it strange to you that love should stand between the sinner and the consequences of his sin? You say when you hear that 'Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners;' you say

when you hear that 'He bore the sins of the whole world,' and that 'by His stripes we are healed,' that that is a strange and unjust transaction. But you do not think so when similar conduct is viewed by the light of love in your family circle. Many of you have children, dear children, and those you love most are perhaps the most restless, the most obstinate, and cause you most trouble and anxiety in the present and for the future. Well, what would you not do for those children ? How would you not suffer for them? And you do this because they are so dear to you, because you cannot suffer enough for them. You would stand between them and a bad world; you would keep them true, and happy, and pure, 'ere the sorrow comes with years,' would you not? And you will spend money for this, you will deny yourself, there is nothing you will not do to save the child, to spare the child-you will give yourself for him.* You take your brains and use them in the place of the child's brains, and you think for him-you take your experience and you act for him, and that is vicarious; and your money and pay for him; and when he is rash and impatient, you put your patience in the place of the child's patience; you fill up the measure of his deficiency with your long-suffering, and thought, and expenditure, and that is vicarious sacrifice. When he lies to you, you sit down and try to make him see the beauty of truth; and when he disobeys you, you forgive him again and again. It pains you when you see there are bad tendencies in the child which ought to be removed and rooted out. You sit up at night when he is ill, and you suffer with his pain, and you weep for

him, and you bear his burdens, and carry his sorrows, and you'agonise' for him.

There is one sick-bed around which the thoughts of all England have circled during the last few days.1 . Some of the details of that scene we have been enabled to realise from the descriptions of family life in that household which have been laid before the country. A widowed mother is there suffering in her anxiety at the bedside of her eldest son; a loving and youthful wife suffers and watches, well nigh exhausted, by the side of her stricken husband; other relations neglect everything else to come and take part in watching by that bed of sickness which all at one time feared was to be the bed of death. That was their sacrifice. 'Hard,' do you say? 'Cruel,' do you say? Do you think any of these watchers counted the hours they passed beside one whom they loved? No; another element was brought to bear upon that cruel law, and sacrifice became illumined by love.

Suppose one comes to you and tells you your house is on fire. You know your little one is in the house; you rush home; you do not stop at the door to ask what progress the fire has made; you bound up stairs heedless of consequences; scorched and burned, you still nerve yourself for the last struggle; you spring forward, and you rescue your child! But do you reckon that your sufferings have been hard? No; the sacrifice has been a labour of love.

Once more: you are at sea; the vessel is going down; there is only one boat lowered; do you not thrust from

'The Illness of the Prince of Wales in 1872.