In whatever part of his writings the Apostle speaks of the efficacy of the death of Christ, and of the "constraining" power of his love, there is a vehemence in his desire, a vivacity in his sentiments, an energy in his language, an intensity in his feelings, which strongly indicate a mind penetrated with the depth of his own views. He paints the love of his Lord as a grace, of which, though his soul was deeply sensible as to its nature, yet as to the degree, it is "exceeding abundantly above," not only "all that he could ask," but "all that he could think." His boldest conceptions sink under the impression which no language could convey.

Yet these sublime portions of his writings, which bear the more special stamp and impress of the Gospel, which afford the nearest view of realities as yet unapproachable, are set aside by many, as things in which they have no personal concern. They have, indeed, a sort of blind reverence for them as for something which they conceive to be at once sacred and unintelligible, such a kind of respect as a man would naturally entertain at the sight of a copy of the Scriptures in a language which he did not understand.

Eloquent as he was, we often find him labouring under his intense conception of ideas too vast for utterance. In describing the extent of the love of God, its height and depth, its length and breadth, his soul seems to expand with the dimensions he is unfolding. His ex

pressions seem to acquire all that force with which he intimates that the soul itself, so acted

upon, is invested. To be strengthened with might, would have been reckoned tautology in an ordinary writer on an ordinary subject; and to be strengthened with all might, would seem an attribute impossible to mortality. But holy Paul had himself felt the excellency of that power; he knew that it is derived, and that the fountain of derivation is the glorious power of God.

In delineating the mighty operations of Divine love on the human mind, the seeming hyperboles are soberly true. Where the theme is illimitable, language will burst its bounds. He preaches riches which are unsearchable exhorts

to know the love which surpasses knowledgepromises peace which passes understanding we must look at the things which are not seen against hope we must believe in hope- while sorrowful we must be always rejoicing — as having nothing we must reckon that we possess all things dying and behold we live though unknown

we

are well known. In short, he reconciles apparent contradictions, unites seeming opposites. Antipathies by nature become affinities by grace. The love of God in Christ is the point where he makes contraries centre, and impossibilities meet.

His spirit seems most intimately to identify itself with the church of Ephesus. What an

improbable union! The late idolatrous worshippers of Diana, and the late persecutor of the saints of Jesus, have now but one heart and one soul! These recent enemies to Christ, and to each other, now meet in one common point of attraction. With what holy triumph does he dilate on their mutual faith! that love of God in Christ Jesus which is their common centre, their indissoluble bond of union!

Still, as we have such frequent occasion to observe, he does not sacrifice practical duty to the indulgence of his rapture. Still he does not allow even these Ephesians to rest satisfied with the grace they have received. It is not enough that they have been favoured with a vocation, they must "walk worthy of it." "The perfecting of the saints" must be carried on; "they must reach to the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ." No such perfection had been attained as would allow them to rest in their present position. Even on this highlyfavoured church, progress is enjoined, pressed, reiterated. No elevation of devout feeling sets him above attention to moral goodness.

Nothing can be more beautiful than the abrupt apostrophes of praise and gratitude into which, in the midst of sorrow, of exhortation, of reproof, he unexpectedly breaks out. The love of his Redeemer so fills his soul, that it requires an effort to restrain its outward expression. Even when engaged in the transac

tion of business, and directing the concerns of others, which, by an ordinary mind, would have been pleaded as a valid reason for suspending spiritual ideas, and dismissing spiritual feelings, they yet mix themselves, as it were involuntarily, with his secular cares; there is not only a satisfaction, but a joyfulness, in these escapes of affection which seem to spring from his soul, in proportion to the depression of his circumstances, to the danger which surrounded, to the Ideaths which threatened him.

When Paul and Silas were imprisoned at Philippi, it is recorded that they prayed at midnight. This would naturally be expected from such men, under such circumstances; but it is added, "they sang praises unto God." Thus they not only justified but glorified Him, under this suffering, as well as degradation. For it must not be forgotten, that this imprisonment was not merely a measure for securing their persons, they were stripped bare, many stripes were laid upon them, and the iron entered into their soul. Yet they sang praises unto God!

What a triumph is here of the element of spirit over the force and violence of outward circumstances!

"Th' oppressor holds

His body bound, but knows not what a range

His spirit takes, unconscious of a chain;

And that to bind him is a vain attempt,

Whom God delights in, and in whom he dwells."

In the Epistle to the Ephesians, to which we have just referred, we are presented with a fresh instance how much his devotion rose under the same circumstances of distress. It was written from a prison, and is almost one entire effusion of love and praise. It is an overflowing expression of affectionate gratitude, that has no parallel. It seems to be enriched with an additional infusion of the spirit of God, and has perhaps more of the heroism of Christian feeling than, except in the discourses of our Lord, is to be found in the whole sacred treasury. It seems to come fresh from the celestial world. He speaks not as from a prison, but as from a region of light, and life, and glory. His thoughts are in heaven, his soul is with his Saviour, his heart is with his treasure: no wonder, then, that his language has a tincture of the idiom of immortality.

As Archimedes, when Syracuse was taken by the besiegers, was so intent on a mathematical demonstration, that he knew not when the city was lost; so the Apostle, absorbed in a concern as much superior to that of the philosopher as Scripture truth is to scientific, lost sight of the cruelties of Nero, forgot his former sufferings, felt not his present captivity, thought not of his impending fate: - present, past, and future, as they related to himself, were absorbed in his zeal for the salvation of the Church, for the glory of its Founder ! Mark the Divine sup