the only way in which man can be saved, even if it first appear on the last day; so the same word also teaches us, and out of it the whole evangelical church also, that each shall answer for his own works, that each must bear his own burden, that no one can lighten the oppressive load a single ounce; that no mother of Christ, no saint, no merit, nor superogatory merit of even the truest of God's servants, who themselves would have shuddered at the thought, can rescue a soul from the terrors of the judgment. These are tatters of well-meant deception laid upon the wounds of souls. These treasures of the church are fictitious; no one helps; thou shalt bear thy own burden. There is but one rescue. If the registry of thy guilt is blotted out with the blood of the Lamb, then are thy works also stricken out, and only thy name will be found inscribed in the book of life-the name which the Lord, in his ineffable love, shall there give thee!

Does the Reformation then ignore works? Have they for her no worth at all?

O yes! the Reformation hath somewhat to say of works; for she preaches a living faith. Works, true works of love, self-sacrificing deeds. of charity to the least of the brethren, done out of love to Jesus-these are the works by which true faith is known. So teaches the evangelical church in accordance with the words of the apostles. She teaches that that faith which is merely a persuasion of the mind, a mere intellectual notion, is a dead faith-in fact no faith at all. She teaches indeed that the works judge the man, but also that, in Christ's own words, all evil works proceed from unbelief. Works of unbelief comprise every evil work, and it is unbelief which condemns, just as it is faith which. seizes upon the saving grace.

And now, beloved, let us take one comprehensive glance, and turn our souls to the Lamb of God. We see here upon his altar the appointed emblems of his body and blood-ay, himself, who really administers himself to believing communicants unto eternal life, but who will give himself to the unbelieving unto judgment. We have to-day a summons to works of love-a double summons-a summons for to-day, and another for the coming Sunday-to works of love which should be done. unto our brethren with prayer and from faith-to works for the rescue of souls and to works for rescue from bodily wants.*

May the consideration of the final judgment incline us to a new seizure upon our Lord, and sturdy growth with him by means of his holy sacrament. May the summons which reach us from far and from near inspirit and charm us to works of love and self-sacrifice. But the spirit of believing prayer comes only from God. For holy works are only those which the Saviour himself works in us by his Holy Spirit, when we stand back, and only consent thereto.

* These remarks referred to a couple of collections taken for the relief of certain countrymen and Christian brethren in America.-[TR]

Glance forward once more unto the end. God grant that no one of us come before that judgment-seat, but that we all press through unto life while here on earth, and happily enter into the joy of our Lord among the thousands of saints who with him shall hold the judgment! But look well to it; it is possible that one or another among us may be snatched away into eternity before he has made his calling and election sure in Jesus Christ. OI pray you, to-day! now! let not an hour, let not a minute, pass, until, in faith-be it ever so weak-you have seized upon the Lord, who offers you his infinite grace with the forgiveness of sins, that you may triumph over death, the grave, and the judgmentthat your resurrection may be a resurrection of life-your name stand written in the Book of Life-that you may receive the new name which he has promised unto those who now come in Jesus Christ! That ismay that be our reformation! Amen.

THIS divine, though little known in America, holds a high place in Germany, and is acting an influential part in ecclesiastical affairs. He is a younger brother of the celebrated court preacher, toward whom he bears, in some respects, a striking resemblance. For a number of years he was stationed at Longeburg; but has now been for some time the acceptable and useful pastor of the German Reformed Church at Duisburg, on the Rhine. He writes with a vigorous pen, and frequently takes part in the prevailing theological discussions through the press, and is the author of several works. In the matter of eloquence, he is not equal to his elder brother, Frederic William (as, indeed, very few are), but he is, nevertheless, a man of decided ability and far more than ordinary pulpit power. There are passages in the following sermon which would be creditable to the chaplain at the Prussian court. Indeed, one may almost imagine while reading it, that he is delightfully following some pathetic and glowing chapter in "The Suffering Saviour." Its perusal can not but awaken a desire for a further acquaintance with the productions of this gifted mind.

THE ABANDONMENT OF CHRIST ON THE CROSS.

"Now from the sixth hour there was darkness over all the land, unto the ninth hour. And about the ninth hour, Jesus cried with a loud voice, saying, Eli, Eli, lama sabacthani? that is to say, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?"-MATTHEW, xxvii. 45, 46.

SEVERAL times already had the great High Priest opened his mouth upon the cross. First had he turned the eye of his mercy upon those cruel mockers and tormenters, who, in that hour of agony, encompassed him as ravening and roaring lions, and asked for them mercy and forgiveness: "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." O! what a glimpse do these words give us into the inconceivable love which glowed in his heart! The next word he addressed to that dying penitent on his right hand, and it was a word of sweetest promise; a word of unutterable consolation: "To-day shalt thou be with me in paradise." And then he turned to his mother and to the disciple whom he loved, who lay in his bosom at the last supper, and bound them both in the

bonds of filial and maternal love. And now was it the sixth hour. It was mid-day, but behold! "there was darkness over all the land unto the ninth hour." For three whole hours the anointed hung upon the cross in unbroken silence; wrapped in darkness, without one single ray of light and peace. The bleeding Creator of the sun itself sees no light; the helper of all must weep without help; but his cry of anguish arrests the course of nature! Surely here is a deep, an unfathomable mystery. Yes, these terrors of Christ loudly declare that here is holy ground. Only in deepest adoration, only in the abasement of self-condemnation, can we venture to approach and gaze. Praying and trembling, we enter this holy of holies; in deepest reverence, supplicating for grace, we contemplate,

I. In the first place; The forsaken One himself.

II. In the second place; The end of his being thus forsaken.
III. And finally; The fruit of this abandonment.

I. Who is this forsaken One? Behold him, as he hangs upon the ignominious tree! Blood is flowing from his wounds-from his opened veins. The crimson stream flows down from his head, his hands, his feet, his sides. His face is marred more than any man's, and there is none.to comfort, none to pity. A great multitude stand around the cross; among them are found the respected, the learned, the noble: chief priests, scribes, and elders; but their lips are like the lips of the rabble, full of bitter mockery and scorn-full of malice and blasphemy. Their cruel hands, indeed, can no longer reach the man of sorrows; but the tongue knows well how to twist the knotted scourge, to send forth the spear and the sharp arrow. One poisoned cup of mockery after another is presented. Unceasing are the torments of his body-inconceivable the agonies of his soul. Forsaken by the whole world-this he might have borne. Deserted by the little band that had "continued with him in his temptation"-this was hard to bear. Alas! what pain even to us, faithless sinners, as we are, when, in the day of need, and of adversity, the friends whom we had fondly deemed true, turn from us coldly and faithlessly! And yet even this sorrow might be endured. But what is told us here? God himself, that God who is love, who said, "Thou art my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased;" that God who has promised to those that keep his covenant, that he will never leave them nor forsake them; the God of all grace and mercy, forsakes his Son! His Son? His only Son? Him whom he loves? Is it possible? Should not we rather say, that this bleeding one, hanging upon the accursed tree, and crying amid the darkness, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me," must be the vilest wretch that ever trod this earth? Is this the last end of the righteous? Is this the reward of innocence and spotless purity? Is this dealing justly, to suffer the holy One to die as a felon? The martyrs

counted not their lives to be dear unto them; for the sake of Jesus they joyfully exposed themselves to the most dreadful tortures, and were led to the stake and the pile of burning, rejoicing that they were thought worthy to suffer for his name; and, meek as the lamb before its slayer, they poured out their life-blood under the knife of their enemies. But they were not forsaken of God. We hear them praising him amid the flames. The Father-heart of God is open to them; the everlasting arm of the great Deliverer is beneath them; the Son of God walks with them, even as of old with Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, in the fiery furnace; and though "their heart and their flesh failed them, yet God was the strength of their heart and their portion forever." But here all sources of comfort are dried up; here Satan, the power of darkness, seemed to have free course, and the life of this forsaken One is as the life of those that go down into the pit of inconceivable torment. Is this the fruit of his transgressions? The due reward of his misdeeds? Is the accusation brought against him just? Was he indeed a blasphemer? Was he guilty of death? Was the rod justly broken upon him?

But no! this be far from him. "He knew no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth. He "was holy, harmless, undefiled, separate from sinners." He glorified his Father; he was always about his Father's business; it was his meat and drink to do the will of his Father; he was in the Father, and the Father in him. His whole life was a life of holiness; never had he, even in thought, transgressed the law of God; "he was obedient unto death, even the death of the cross." Zeal for the house of the Lord consumed him; he went about doing good; to save, to help, to bless, was the element of his whole earthly life. Perfect was he, and perfect he remained, even as his Father in heaven is perfect. Such was he; and yet he exclaims in unutterable anguish: "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me ?" O, then, wonder not if I shrink in trembling awe from this abandonment by the Father! Blame me not if I own that here is an event which seems to involve in impenetrable obscurity all the attributes and all the dealings of God. Can the God of love thus forsake the Son of his love? Can almighty Justice thus deal with innocence? Does the omnipresent thus depart from him who is faithful even unto death? Is it thus that the covenant-keeping God fulfills his own promise: "I will never leave thee nor forsake thee. When thou passest through the waters I will be with thee, and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee; when thou walkest through the fire thou shalt not be burned, neither shall the flames kindle upon thee?" Is this his faithfulness, that he yields up the faithful in all things, yea, the only faithful, a prey to the most fearful pains of the most painful death, and wholly withdraws from him his presence, his consolation, the consciousness of his love and his favor? Is not godliness itself a mere dream, when the holy One is thus forsaken? Is not all trust in the covenantkeeping faithfulness of Jehovah a mere delusion, when God withdraws