Though at that time we knew not that love was mixed with every blow, yet now we perceive it to have been the kind plan of a gracious Saviour to bring us to himself. The Roman Emperor conferred freedom on a slave by smiting him on the ear and Jesus sets as at liberty by a blow upon our heart.

I. We shall dwell first upon the fact that all saved persons have been wounded. Neither in the Church militant nor the host triumphant is there one who received a new heart, and was reclaimed from sin, without a wound from Jesus. The pain may have been but slight, and the healing may have been speedy; but in each case there has been a real bruise, which required a heavenly physician to heal.

1. With some, this wounding commenced in early life; for as soon as infancy gave place to childhood, the rod was exercised upon certain of us. We can remember early convictions of sin, and apprehensions of the wrath of God on its account. An awakened conscience in our most tender years drove us to the throne of mercy. Though we knew not the hand which chastened our spirit, yet did we "bear the yoke in our youth." How many were "the tender buds of hope," which we then put forth, alas! too soon to be withered by youthful lusts; how often were we "scared with visions"

and terrified with dreams, while the reproof of a parent, the death of a playfellow, or a solemn sermon made our hearts melt within us! Truly, our goodness was but "as the morning cloud and the early dew;" but who can tell how much each of these separate woundings contributed toward that killing by the law, which proved to be the effectual work of God? In each of these arousings we discover a gracious purpose; we trace every one of these awakenings to His hand who watched over our path, determined to deliver us from our sins. The small end of that wedge which has since been driven home, was inserted during these youthful hours of inward strife; the ground of our heart was then enduring a ploughing preparatory to the seed.

Let none despise the strivings of the Spirit in he hearts of the young; let not boyish anxieties and juvenile repentances be lightly regarded. He incurs a fearful amount of guilt who in the least. promotes the aim of the Evil One by trampling upon a tender conscience in a child. No one knows the age of the youngest child in hell; and therefore none can guess at what age children become capable of conversion. We at least can bear our testimony to the fact that grace operates on some minds at a period almost too early for recollection. Nor let it be imagined that the feelings of the young are slight and superficial-they are

frequently of the deepest character. The early woundings of the Saviour are made upon hearts not yet rendered callous by worldliness and sensuality. The Christian whose lot it was to be smitten in his childhood, will well remember the deep searchings of heart and the keen convictions of soul which he endured.

O beloved, how much have we to bless our Jesus. for, and how much for which to reprove ourselves! Did we not stifle our conscience, and silence the voice of reproof? Were we not deaf to the warning voice of our glorious Jesus? When he smote us sorely, we returned not to kiss his rod, but were as refractory as the bullock unaccustomed to the yoke. Our most solemn vows were only made to be broken; our earnest prayers ceased when the outward pressure was removed; and our partial reformations passed away like dreams of the night. Blessed be His name, he at last gave us the effectual blow of grace; but we must for ever stand in amazement at the patience which endured our obstinacy, and persevered in its design of love.

2. Many of the Lord's beloved ones have felt the wounds to be exceedingly painful. There are degrees in the bitterness of sorrow for sin; all have not the same horrible apprehensions of destruction; but some there be who have drank the very wormwood and gall of repentance. Usually, such persons have been great sinners previously, or

become great saints in after life. They love much because they feel that much has been forgiven; their fearful bondage increases their gratitude for glorious liberty; and the wretchedness of their natural poverty enhances their estimation of the riches of Jesus. The painful process is thus a gainful one; but when it is endured it is indeed an exceeding fiery furnace-an oven that burneth with vehement heat. He who hath had his feet fast in the stocks of conviction will never forget it till his dying day. Well do some of us call to mind the season when our true Friend smote our heart, with what we then thought the hand of a cruel one. Our mirth was turned into mourning, our songs to lamentations, our laughter into sighing, and our joys to misery. Black thoughts haunted our benighted soul-dreary images of woe sat upon the throne of our imagination-sounds akin to the wailings of hell were frequent in our ears, unitedly making our entire man so full of agony that it could be compared to nothing but the portal of hell. During this period, our prayers were truly earnest when we could pray; but at times a sense of tremendous guilt bound our lips, and choked our utterance. Now and then a faint gleam of hope lit up the scene for a moment, only to increase the gloom upon its departure. nearer we approached to our Lord, the more sternly (we thought) he repelled us; the more ear

The

nest our attempts at amendment, the more heavy the lash fell upon our shoulders. The law grasped us with iron hand, and smote us with the scourge of vengeance; conscience washed the quivering flesh with brine; and despondency furnished us with a bed of thorns, upon which our poor mangled frame found a hard couch. By night we dreamed of torment, by day we almost felt its prelude. In vain did we ask Moses to propitiate an angry God; in vain did we attempt by vows to move his pity; "the Breaker "* broke our hearts with his heavy hammer, and seemed intent to make our agonies intolerable. We dared not touch the hem of his garment, lest" Depart from me!" should be the only word he would afford us. A fearful looking-for of judgment and of fiery indignation wrought in us all manner of fears, suspicions, tremblings, despondings, and despairings.

Old Burton was no ill limner when he thus painted the soul under the pressure of a burden of guilt:"Fear takes away their content, and dries the blood, wasteth the marrow, alters their countenance, even in their greatest delights-singing, dancing, feasting-they are still (saith Lemnius) tortured in their souls.' It consumes them to nought. 'I am like a pelican in the wilderness (saith David of himself, temporarily afflicted): an

* Mic. ii. 13.