II.

THE PRODIGAL SON-THE ELDER BROTHER.

OR the reason assigned in my first paper, I again introduce poetical illustrations of the Parable of the

Prodigal Son. It will be noted that the lines by the Rev. S. J. Stone, entitled "Coming to Himself," are illustrative of one of the engravings inserted last month.

I have also appended an extract from the Rev. W. Arnot's work on "The Parables of our Lord," as a comment on "The Elder Son." The view taken is identical with that advanced in the closing chapter of "The Way Home."

As the first division of the Parable proclaims the fulness and freeness of the Gospel of the grace of God to publicans and sinners, in order to encourage them to return home, so the last division exhibits, in the strongest light, the narrow, legal spirit of the Pharisees and Scribes-showing how possible it is to possess privileges without receiving any real benefit from them-how possible it is to be bereft of filial love and sympathy even in a father's house.

The Pharisees and Scribes could scarcely fail to shrink from the mirror in which they were bidden to behold their own features. Yet we may surmise, from their silence, that conscience brought home to them the conviction of guilt. So it is possible our reprobation of the character of the Elder Son may include ourselves.

Unnatural as his conduct appears-the responsibilities and privileges of his earthly relationship so entirely disregarded-we must remember the whole Parable is significant of spiritual truth. Our Saviour did not mean to charge the Pharisees and Scribes literally, but spiritually, with the sin of legal apostacy. It was the heavenly relationship and its obligations which they so greatly misunderstood. The joy of the father on

account of the moral resurrection of his son is the faint image of the joy of our heavenly Father when, in the new creation of the soul "in righteousness and true holiness," He beholds the spiritually dead alive againthe spiritually lost found. So the conduct of the Elder Brother indicates spiritual alienation from the mind of God-spiritual indifference where there should have been the deepest spiritual interest.

A test which proposes to determine the value of our religion by the measure of our sympathy with spiritual joy, and our estimate of the occasion it celebrates, is not to be applied without deep searchings of heart.

The question is not, Are we in the social relations of life imitating the conduct of the Elder Son? This may not be the case. It was not the case with the Pharisees and Scribes. We may be exemplary in the discharge of relative and social obligations. It is well indeed if it be so. "These ought yo to have done." But the Earthly Story has a Heavenly meaning. The highest obligations are to GOD. The question is, Are we spiritually living as His "dear children,” or spiritually acting out the character of the Elder Son? We may be in the temple as the Elder Son was in the field. We may be noted for our observance of ceremonial ordinances-be very zealous-give abundant alms-have a name to live; and yet selfishness, not the love of God, may lie at the root of our religion. There may be there often is "the form of godliness" without "the power thereof."

If the Pharisee did but watch the manifestations of his spirit towards others, as well as the nature of his communion with God, he would without much difficulty detect in himself even the more repulsive aspect of the Elder Son. The brotherhood. of Christians, how imperfectly he realizes it! With what coldness and suspicion he looks on persons professing repentance after a life

of flagrant sin! What a satisfied sense of his own superiority, because he has not run to the same excess of riot! How little anxiety for the spiritual sonship of others, even those united to him by the closest ties! How little consciousness of the privileges of a son, even on his own part! How servile his worship-how heartless his prayers-how formal his praises! Can this be the man who has received "the unspeakable gift"? Can this be the man to whom the Gospel has brought "tidings of great joy"? Can we believe that the Spirit bears witness with his spirit, that hath made him "a child grace of God"? Nay, does he believe it himself? Is he not rather an alien, a stranger in his father's house?

We want the love of God shed abroad in our hearts, and nothing will compensate for its absence. If, in the earthly relationship, the most exact obedience to a father's commands-the most unlimited compliance with his wishes-would fail to impart a throb of pleasure to his heart, if he knew his child's affections were estranged, can we hope the religion of a Pharisee will avail to commend us in His sight who affirms that love, and love only, is "the fulfilling of the law"?

Grace-free grace-the love of God to man-must be realized, in order to the love of man to God, or the true spiritual love of man to man. The knowledge of this love is the Sinner's Way Home!

As they come crowding o'er him with the strange

Sweet sadness of a dream.

New and yet old, the same yet not the same, Old from the far-off years,

Yet new by new-won right to that dear name Most sweet to human ears.

And though so sweet by that new sense of love,

Yet sad by sense of loss:

What gain that now he ranks the gold above The glitter of the dross?

What gain, since now the priceless wealth has passed

For ever from his hold?

Yet it is sweet to know that now at last
He doth esteem it gold!

Thus dear the musing thought that travels o'er

That earlier life again;

Yet thus the voice within that cries, "No more!"

Cries with a sharper pain.

His Father's land, the bounty and the grace,
The bliss and rest of Home,

Lit with the sunshine of his Father's face,
Before his memory come.

His Father's face!-that vision to recall
The bitterest pain doth lend-
That only now he knows him over all
Dearest and surest Friend;

That now he sees him when so far away
The highest and the best,

When head or heart he never more may lay
Upon that Father's breast.

Never!-is word so desperate so true?

Is he no more a child?

For ever spurned by him whom once he knew Most merciful and mild?

"I will arise and go, for it may be

That I shall be forgiven;

Though my vain soul hath sinned so utterly Against his love and Heaven.

"Would his forgiveness bid me but become A servant, not a son,

To be before his Face and in his Home
Would be a new life won!

"So I shall win the peace, if not the bliss
And sweetness of his grace;

The glory of his presence, though I miss
The joy of his embrace!"

Sorrow and shame, and new-born hope and love,

Their shade and sunshine throw:
Now wings his soul a happy flight above,
Now cowers in depths below.

And ever as the weary leagues grow less,
And all he seeks more near,

Fiercer the tumult, and his soul's distress,
The pangs of hope and fear.

And now by yonder vale and hill he knows
His journey wellnigh done;

All, by the crown or ending of his woes,
For ever lost or won!

Then far away, well known, on that fair slope,
Walls, towers, and gates appear;
These to his fancy closed against his hope,
Those sterner for his fear!

Yet oh-though all in vain may be his
quest-

Sweet to his longing sight

The glory and the peace! the Vale of Rest, The Mountain of Delight!

Whom sees he now from that high tower descend,

And throw the portal wide,

As one who long hath waited for a friend,
And hastens to his side?

Oh, at his coming his quick steps are stayed;
With shaken frame he stands;

He cannot speak—almost he is afraid
To lift his longing hands.

Only his eyes pray as they watch him come:
As one in deadly strife

Who with wild looks, although his lips be dumb,

Doth beg an hour of life.

An hour? Oh, this is love that pardons all! Heart unto heart is pressed;

On the son's cheek the Father's kisses fall, His tears upon his breast.

"O Father, for that wrong my sin hath done

Against thy love and Heaven,

I am not worthy to be called thy son!”— "My son, thou art forgiven!"

Oh, blessed grace of love that all forgives! Oh, pity without bound!

"My son was dead, and now behold he lives; Was lost, but he is found!"

THE LEGALIST; OR, ADOPTION TESTED. By the Rev. W. ARNOT.

"Now his elder son was in the field: and as he came and drew nigh to the house, he heard music and dancing. And he called one of the servants, and asked what these things meant. And he said unto him, Thy brother is come; and thy father hath killed the fatted calf, because he hath received him safe and sound. And he was angry, and would not go in therefore came his father out, and entreated him. And he, answering, said to his father, Lo, these many years do I serve thee; neither transgressed I at any time thy commandment; and yet thou never gavest me a kid, that I might make merry with my friends: but as soon as this thy son was come, which hath devoured thy living with harlots, thou hast killed for him the fatted calf. And he said unto him, Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine. It was meet that we should make merry, and be glad; for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found."-LUKE xv. 25-32.

"And he was angry"-his cold heart,

As if encased in steel,
Felt not the healthful glow of love:
A stranger to the joys above,

He knew not how to feel.
"And he was angry"-ah! how sad,
While all rejoiced around;
The meanest servant-strangers-all
With mirthful raptures filled the hall,
Because the "LOST" was "FOUND."
"And he was angry"-would not join
The merry guests within;
Their music fill'd his jealous soul
With rancour he could not control-
The bitter fruit of sin.

"And he was angry"-fretted, fumed,
Because of what was done;
While the bless'd Father's gracious heart
Loved his forgiveness to impart

To his repenting son.

J. H. HUGHES. The notice given in the first sentence of the Parable prepares us for meeting with