home from the daily task some evening, and see her sinking; to sit up all night, in hope to catch again those precious words you might have heard could you have afforded to stay at home all day, but never hear them; to have no mourners at the funeral, or even carry on your own shoulder through the merry streets the light deal coffin; to see huddled into a promiscuous hole the dust which is so dear to you, and not venture to mark the spot by planted flower or lowliest stone; some bitter winter or some costly spring to barter for food the clock or the curious cupboard, or the "Henry's Commentary," on which you prided yourself as the heir-loom of a frugal family, and never be able to redeem it; to feel that you are getting old-nothing laid aside, and present earnings scarce sufficient; to change the parlour floor for the top story, and the top story for a single attic, and wonder what change will be the next :-these and a thousand privations are the pains of poverty. And in the days when the world's Redeemer occupied the poor man's home, he was familiar with sights the parallels of these. He noted them. He entered into them. He shared them. Even at the time he did somewhat to relieve them. It was in such a scene that he let forth the first glimpse of his glory. The scanty store of wine had failed at a marriage-feast, and to relieve the embarrassment of his humble entertainers, he created a new supply. And it was in a similar scene that the second of his healing miracles was wrought, and his entrance to Simon's fishing-hut was signalized by restoring from a fever his sick mother-in-law.

And, not to dwell on the miracles of mercy, which restored to the widow of Nain her only son, and to the sisters of Bethany their only brother, it is worth while to notice how many of his wonders were presents to the poor. A weary boatman has swept the waves all night and captured not a single fin. Jesus bids him drop the net in a particular spot, and instantly it welters with a silvery spoil. Again and again the eager throng hangs round him till the sun is setting, and it is discovered that there are only a few small loaves among all the fainting thousands; but he speaks the word, and as little loaves bulk out an endless banquet, the famished villagers rejoice in the rare repast. And though he did not grudge his cures to centurions and rulers of the synagogues, they were usually the poor and despised who craved and got the largest share the woman who had spent on physicians all that she had; the impotent man at Bethesda; the Samaritan lepers; and Bartimeus the blind beggar. And thus would the kind Redeemer teach us, that if there are always to be the poor on earth, there will always be the poor man's friend in Heaven. He would teach those sons of toil who are his true disciples, that in all their afflictions he is afflicted; that he knows their frame and feels their sorrow. And should these lines be read by one who is indigent in spite of all his industry, let him remember how it fared with the world's best benefactor when here below-let him remember that the Saviour himself had once nowhere to lay his head, and asking for a cup of cold water, could scarcely obtain it. But now that he has all

power in heaven and earth, that Saviour is as tender as ever; and to you, oh children of want and woe! he says, "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."

But I hasten to notice the greatest boon which the Saviour purchased. Returning to an instance already mentioned :-Had you seen the devoted missionaries pass into the leper hospital, along with admiration of their kindness, you would have felt a grievous pang at such an immolation. To think that men in the height of health should thus be lost to the land of the livingthat good men and generous should be buried quick in such a ghastly grave-it would have oppressed your spirit, and you could only have given grudging approbation to such a self-devotement. But if at the end of a certain term they had appeared at the gate again, and along with them a goodly band of the poor victims restored to perfect soundness; if it turned out that they had not only been able to mitigate much suffering, but in the case of every one who submitted to their treatment, had effected a perfect cure; and if, on examining the matter, the competent authorities declared that not only were these heroes of humanity themselves uninjured, but that those whom they brought with them were clean every whit, and might forthwith pass out into the world of the hale and the happy, you would be more than reconciled to the great price which purchased such a wondrous restoration. When Immanuel went into this world-when he first put human nature on, and in all his innocence identified himself with the fate of sinful men, we might almost

imagine the anxiety awakened by this "mystery of godliness" in any celestial spirit who did not foreknow the issue. But when that issue was developed-when, with a multitude which no man can number, rescued and restored, the mighty Redeemer re-appeared at the gate of the lazaretto-when infinite purity and eternal justice and the holy law recognised not only an immaculate deliverer, but in all his ransomed company could detect no stain of sin, no spot of the old corruption-when it was pronounced that millions of plague-stricken beings were now so convalescent and so pure, that they might even pass the pearly gates and join the fellowship of angels, enough was seen to justify the self-denial, though that self-denial was the incarnation of the Son of God-enough to recompense the sacrifice, though that sacrifice was the death of a Divine Redeemer.

But this was the simple fact. An Angel of mercy, a Volunteer of pure compassion, the Saviour assumed our nature, and visited our world. The Word was made flesh, and dwelt amongst us. And coming into the world he came into a moral lazaretto. Young and old, rich and poor, every soul was smitten with sin's disgusting malady. None were holy; none sought after God. All were corrupt; all were, to God's pure eye, offensive; and all were sickening towards the second death. And by coming hither and taking on the human nature, the Son of God committed himself to our woful case. He virtually declared that unless he brought a convalescent company with him, he would return to heaven no more. But the balsam which

alone could heal this malady, was found to be very costly. It must contain, as an ingredient, something which could compensate for sin; something so compensating, that God would be a just God in forgiving the sinner. And nothing, it was found, could atone for guilt, save blood divine. But Jesus had counted the cost; and even this price he was prepared to pay. And he paid it. He offered himself as the propitiation for sin, and he was accepted. And though amongst those whom he sought to save were atheists and infidels, murderers and liars, blasphemers and sabbath-breakers, thieves and robbers, drunkards and debauchees that one offering was infinite, and more than sufficed. It finished transgression, and the Supreme Judge and Lawgiver proclaimed it to the world, "The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin." And reappearing at the gates of Paradise with his ransomed, "the gates lifted up their heads ;" and having long since returned from that errand of kindness, and rejoined the acclaiming celestials, already has the King of Glory been followed by many a trophy of his life-giving death and peace-speaking blood. Dear reader, will not you be another? Will you not entrust your soul to One so skilful to heal, and so mighty to save? Will you not begin to sing that new song even here, "Thou art worthy; for thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood ?" And will you not, from this time forward, give a higher place in your affections to that adorable Friend, "who, though he was rich, for your sakes became poor, that ye through his poverty might be rich ?"