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was perhaps the case here, that the fear of sinning one way, by speaking evil, urged him to the opposite extreme, so that he sinned the other way by not speaking good.

What poor creatures we are! While we flee from the pit, we fall into the snare, and when we escape from a lion, a bear meets us. There is danger everywhere. None but God can direct the tongue of man aright. And then it is well, when our speech is with grace, and our silence with grace also.

My sorrow was stirred. The passions were moved in his silence, and they broke it. He fell into a train of solemn reflections on the guilt, misery, and mortality of man; on his own frailty; on his need of divine teaching that he might make a proper use of his knowledge of his dying state, and on his need of the pardoning and sanctifying grace of God. His heart became soft and tender. He was sorry for the wicked, and sorry for himself.

out reason.

Religious men are sometimes sorrowful men. They grow tired of conversing, and become melancholy in thinking. But their grief is not withPerhaps where grace is most powerful, sorrow is most frequent. Living in the midst of a world of follies and miseries, it is no wonder if sometimes they have "great sorrow and continual heaviness” in their hearts. In such a state as this, 66 sorrow is better than laughter;-blessed are ye that weep now; blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted." Let us rejoice if we can sorrow after a godly sort.

We learn from this effect of silence, that one benefit of conversation is to cheer the spirits. Continual silence would be continual sadness. Let us be thankful, though we may be without some comforts, that we have the comfort of conversation. Even the use of a man's own voice is a help to his cheerfulness. "I will speak that I may be refreshed."

(To be continued.)

II.

RECOLLECTIONS OF A DISCOURSE

BY THE REV. J. FOSTER,

AT BROADMEAD

ON THE TWO MIRACLES OF CHRIST

RECORDED IN MATT. xiv. 13-33.

The miracle of the loaves and fishes; and the miracle of Christ walking on the sea.

Ir is a matter of surprise and mortification that we are seldom in a right state of mind for the reception of the proper impression that ought to be made by these narratives. We feel it on reverting to the way in which we read them. There is a mingled wonder-one at the narrative itself, and one at our stupidity in being so little affected by it. The former, an admiring wonder; the latter, a condemning and reproachful one.

There ought to be a summoning of the faculties to these narratives. We ought to be alive to the impression of any grand scene, whether awfully or mercifully grand. The recent fire in North America*—so grand, peculiar, more like that at Sodom and Gomorrah than anything else, ought to strike. He who felt nothing from that would not be likely to feel much from the narratives of scripture. The ordinary state of his mind would be unfavourable.

But these narratives particularly demand such a state of mind. What for? What effect is to be produced by them? Ask what they should have been seen for by those who stood around! What were they to derive from them? This we are to derive-for the distance that has elapsed makes no difference-the things are just the same. Now, they were wrought to attest the glorious mission-the glorious nature of Christ. This they ought to bring home to us. Would

* At Miramichi,

he who heard Matthew speak of them a year after. wards, have been excusable had he not received such an impression? And where is the difference? Is not Matthew speaking to us of them? The mind can realise them here. It is a just boast that distance of time and place can make no difference in the thing to it.

The inimitable simplicity of the narrative deserves remark. It is perfectly simple. Whatever is perfect in its kind reaches to sublimity. The style is free from everything artificial-catching for the attention or applause. It is translucent—a clear, unadulterated medium for the conveyance of the real event. He who would charge these narratives with imposture does it either at the expense of his honesty or taste. Either you do not believe the charge when you make it; or if you do,—then you are a blockhead. You have no sense of the moral qualities of style-no perception of the true beauty of language, even though you call yourself eloquent, and-an orator!

The miraculous power of our Lord was very different from that of the Prophets. It came to them; but his was his own; he carried it about with him.

I. His miracle of the loaves is first recorded in this chapter, and first engages our attention.

This was analogous to that of the manna-but greater, so to speak. There might be in that the interposition of a natural cause this would not alter the miracle. It would be one step-but leave a vast chasm to be filled up only with Almighty power. But here was nothing of the kind. There was time there But here, five

-the lapse of a night; and secresy. thousand saw, in sunshine, bread and fish of a certain quantity become another certain quantity-prodigiously greater-in half an hour. What was enough for five became enough for five thousand, and many more-we cannot tell how many women and children are added to the enumeration; and had there been as

many more, it would still have been more than enough, for fragments were left of more than the original quantity.

How long did he retire from working another miracle? As far as we conceive him human, we have a feeling that he should have reposed after using this stupendous machinery. But he needed no repose. It was with perfect ease to himself that he thus acted. He had no wonder at what filled others, and justly too, with astonishment. Now when a human being does anything extraordinary, we gaze. Even if it be with great toil-great daring-great hazard-and hardly achieved at last, how epic poetry blazes to celebrate it,-up to heaven-down to the centre of the earth! Yet here is a wonder greater than them all-greater than the exploits could be of all the combined powers of men and angels-yet with the utmost ease. And this deceives us : because so much in character with him, we do not wonder.

It is a similar deception we practise on ourselves with regard to the frequency of his miracles. Had he done only a few-enough to prove his power, and sufficiently competent to attest his mission-we should have said, "Why so sparing of a power always at hand: if, indeed, it were always at hand?” Now, they crowd upon us-follow one another in rapid succession-encompass us as a cloud of witnesses :-and what now? Their very frequency lessens our admiration. How many ways this soul of ours needs to be controlled, and deserves to be chastised!

Jesus retired to pray. He had a communion with God, not like anything mortal or angelic. This required secresy. He must by his divine nature have had an intercourse with the Father that could not approximate to anything human or mortal. What he prayed for we are not told, and it were vain to guess. But it is highly probable that he had seasons of such a communion as we have described apart, from everything material-divine. There was within him that

which could not be prostrated to a created state. Hence the veil of solitude and of night was hung around it.

II. His miracle on the waters follows.

The disciples were on the sea:—the Sea of Galilee -the Lake of Gennesaret-the Sea of Tiberius- all meaning the same thing. Five miles broad, twice that number in length. Its shores the scenes of many miracles, now its centre. They were half across— with an opposing wind-in great distress and tempest. About one o'clock the fourth watch-before the earliest dawn. Jesus was not there. These disciples might have only a local faith. Though they had seen his power over matter, they might not credit it over space; as if he could not have reached his hand over that sea and curbed its rage, with more of ease and readiness than Moses his rod.

They saw a form at a distance-a human form. It became evident and palpable: walking over the billows, without any of the common expedients for buoyancy. Freed from the laws that make us to be governed by matter—at least, from the most obvious and gross of them. It called their attention from the storm. They said, "It is a spirit!" The ancients believed that storms were raised by spirits-evil spirits-hence the phrase, "the spirit of the storm.” They might think so. They were afraid, for they saw it make to them. This would be the effect of the sight of any unusual object; a wild beast itself would inspire fear, but more if it made to us; or a savage, if a man of great prowess, malice, brutality. But an apparition, which common sense and reason make possible to appear;-the first emotion will be fear-the next terror. Why? Because we have no power against it, and it may have an unlimited potency over Even if a good angel-still we should fear from this cause-its potency and our weakness - the dread inequality.

us.

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