for the regularity with which he observed all his Jewish duties. Now let us apply this to modern duties. The great desire among men now appears to be to alter institutions, to have perfect institutions, as if they would make perfect men. Mark the difference between this feeling and that of the apostle: "Let every man abide in the same calling wherein he was called." We are called to be members of the Church of England-what is our duty now? What would St. Paul have done? Is this our duty-to put such questions to ourselves as these? "Is there any single, particular sentence in the service of my Church with which I do not entirely agree? Is there any single ceremony with which my whole soul does not go along? If so, then is it my duty to leave it at once ?"

No, my brethren, all that we have to do is to say, “All our existing institutions are those under which God has placed us, under which we are to mould our lives according to His will." It is our duty to vitalize our forms, to throw into them a holier, deeper meaning. My Christian brethren, surely no man will get true rest, true repose for his soul in these days of controversy, until he has learned the deep significance of these wise words-"Let every man abide in the same calling wherein he was called." He will but gain unrest, he will but disquiet himself, if he says, "I am sinning by continuing in this imperfect system," if he considers it his duty to change his calling because his opinions do not. agree in every particular and special point with the system under which God has placed him.

Lastly, the apostle applies this principle civilly. And you will observe he applies it to that civil relationship which, of all others, was the most difficult to harmonize with Christianity-slavery. "Art thou called," he says, "being a servant? Care not for it." Now in considering this part of the subject, we should carry along with us these two recollections: First, we should recollect that Christianity had made much way among this particular class, the class of slaves. No wonder the men cursed with slavery embraced with joy a religion which was perpetually teaching the worth and dignity of the human soul, and declaring that rich and poor, peer and peasant, master and slave, were equal in the sight of God. And yet, great as this growth was, it contained within it elements of danger. It was to be feared, lest men, hearing forever of brotherhood and Christian equality, should be tempted and excited to throw off the yoke by force, and compel their masters and oppressors to do them right.

The other fact we are to keep in remembrance is this

that all this occurred in an age in which slavery had reached its worst and most fearful form, an age in which the emperors were accustomed, not unfrequently, to feed their fish with living slaves; when captives were led to fight in the amphitheatre with wild beasts or with each other, to glut the Roman appetite for blood upon a Roman holiday. And yet, fearful as it was, the apostle says, "Care not for it." And fearful as war was in those days when the soldiers came to John to be baptized, he did not recommend them to join some "Peace Association," to use the modern term; he simply exhorted them to be content with their wages. And hence we understand the way in which Christianity was to work. It interferes indirectly, and not directly, with existing institutions. No doubt it will at length abolish war and slavery, but there is not one case where we find Christianity interfering with institutions as such. Even when Onesimus ran away and came to St. Paul, the apostle sent him back to his master Philemon, not dissolving the connection between them. And then, as a consolation to the servant, he told him of a higher feeling-a feeling that would make him free, with the chain and shackle upon his arm. And so it was possible for the Christian then, as it is now, to be possessed of the highest liberty even under tyranny. It many times occurred that Christian men found themselves placed under an unjust and tyrannical government, and compelled to pay unjust taxes. The Son of Man showed his freedom, not by refusing, but by paying them. His glorious liberty could do so without any feeling of degradation; obeying the laws, not because they were right, but because institutions are to be upheld with cordiality.

One thing more we have to observe. It is possible from all this to draw a most inaccurate conclusion. Some men have spoken of Christianity as if it were entirely indifferent about liberty and all public questions-as if with such things as these Christianity did not concern itself at all. This indifference is not to be found in the Apostle Paul. While he asserts that inward liberty is the only true liberty, he still goes on to say, "If thou mayest be made free, use it rather." For he well knew that although it was possible for a man to be a high and lofty Christian, even though he were a slave, yet it was not probable that he would be so. Outward institutions are necessary partly to make a perfect Christian character; and thus Christianity works from what is internal to what is external. It gave to the slave the feeling of his dignity as a man; at the same time, it gave to the Christian master a new view of his relation to his slave, and taught him to regard

him "not now as a servant, but above a servant, a brother beloved." And so by degrees slavery passed into freed servitude, and freed servitude, under God's blessing, may pass into something higher. There are two mistakes which are often made upon this subject; one is, the error of supposing that outward institutions are unnecessary for the formation of character; and the other, that of supposing that they are all that is required to form the human soul. If we understand rightly the duty of a Christian man, it is this: to make his brethren free inwardly and outwardly; first inwardly, so that they may become masters of themselves, rulers of their passions, having the power of self-rule and self-control; and then outwardly, so that there may be every power and opportunity of developing the inward life; in the language of the prophet, "To break the rod of the oppressor, and let the oppressed go free."

LECTURE XVI.

1 CORINTHIANS vii. 29-31. January 11, 1852.

THIS was St. Paul's memorable decision, in reply to certain questions proposed to him by the Church of Corinth, on the subject of Unworldliness. Christianity was a new thing in the world, and circumstances daily arose in which it became a question in what way Christianity was to be applied to the circumstances of ordinary daily life.

Christ had said of His disciples, "They are not of the world." It was a question, therefore-Can a Christian lawfully enter the married state? Can he remain a slave and be a Christian too? May he make certain worldly compliances? Should a Christian wife remain with an unchristian husband? Here was the root of the difficult questionWhat is worldliness?

Now observe the large, broad spirit of the apostle's answer. In effect he says, You may do all this-you may enter into family relationships, and yet be living in expectation of Christ's coming. If you are a slave, care not for it. If any that believe not invite you to a feast, and you are disposed to go, go without fear. I can not judge for you; you must judge for yourselves. All that I lay down is, you must in spirit live above, and separate from, the love of earthly things.

Christianity is a spirit-it is a set of principles, and not a set of rules; it is not a mapping out of the chart of life, with

every shoal and rock marked, and the exact line of the ship's course laid down. It does not say, Do not go to this, or See that you abstain from that. It gives no definite rules for dress or for the expenditure of time or money. A principle is announced; but the application of that principle is

left to each man's own conscience.

Herein Christianity differed essentially from Judaism. Judaism was the education of the spiritual child, Christianity that of the spiritual man. You must teach a child by rules; and, as he does not know the reason of them, his duty consists in implicit and exact obedience. But a man who is governed, not by principles, but by maxims and rules, is a pedant, or a slave; he will never be able to depart from the letter of the rule, not even to preserve the spirit of it. Here is one difference between the Law and the Gospel. The Law lays down rules-" Do this and live." The Gospel lays down principles. Thus Judaism said, Forgive seven times -exactly so much; Christianity said, Forgiveness is a boundless spirit-not three times, nor seven. No rule can be laid down but an infinite one-seventy times seven. It must be left to the heart.

So, too, the Law said-"On the Sabbath-day thou shalt do no manner of work." The spirit of this was rest for man, but Pharisaism kept literally to the rule. It would rather that a man should perish than that any work should be done, or any ground travelled over, on the Sabbath-day in saving him. Pharisaism regarded the day as mysterious and sacred; Christianity proclaimed the day to be nothing -the spirit, for which the day was set apart, every thing. It said, "The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath." It broke the day in the letter, whenever it was necessary, in the true spiritual observance of the day, to advantage the man.

Unworldliness, then, does not consist in giving up this or that; but in a certain inward principle. Had St. Paul been one of those ministers who love to be the autocrats of their congregations, who make their own limited conceptions the universal rule of right and wrong, he would have hailed this opportunity of deciding the question for them. But he walked in the light and liberty of the Gospel himself, and he desired that his converts should do the same.

This, then, is our subject:

I. The motives for Christian unworldliness. II. The nature of that unworldliness.

The first motive is the shortness of time.

"This I say,

brethren, the time is short." That mysterious word " time," which is a matter of sensation, dependent on the flight of ideas, may be long to one person and short to another. The span of life granted to a summer butterfly is long compared with that granted to the ephemeron; it is short compared with the duration of a cedar of Lebanon. Relative to experience, an hour is long to a child, yet a year is little to a man. Shortness, therefore, is a term entirely relative to something

else.

1. It is relative to the way in which we look on Time, whether it be regarded from before or after. Time past is a dream, time to come seems immense; the longest night, which seemed as if it would never drag through, is but a speck of memory when it is gone. At sixty-five, a man has on an average five years to live; yet his imagination obstinately attaches solidity and stability to those five coming years, though the sixty-five seem but a moment. To the young such words as these are often perfectly unmeaning: life to them is an inexhaustible treasure. But ask the old man what he thinks of the time he has had; he feels, what the young can scarcely be brought to believe, that time future may seem long, but time past is as nothing. Years glide swiftly, though hours and minutes scarcely seem to

move.

2. Time is short in relation to opportunities. Literally these words mean-"The opportunity is compressed, narrowed"—that is, every season has its own opportunity, which never comes back. A chance once gone is lost forever. The autumn sun shines as brightly as that of spring, but the seed of spring can not be sown in autumn. The work of boyhood can not be done in manhood. Time is short-it is opportunity narrowed in!

The chance will not be given you long. Have you learnt the lesson of yesterday? or the infinite meaning of to-day? It has duties of its own; they can not be left until to-morrow. To-morrow will bring its own work. There is a solemn feeling in beginning any new work; in the thought, I have begun this to-day, shall I ever complete it? And a voice says, "Work on, for the day of its closing is unknown." The true consciousness of this life is as a tombstone, on which two dates are to be inscribed: the day of birth is engraven at full length, while a blank is left for the day of death. Born on such a day; died ? The time in which that blank

has to be filled up is short.

The great idea brought out by Christianity was the eter nity of the soul's life. With this idea the Corinthian Church