The question as to whether the event recorded in this paragraph is the same as that narrated by the Evangelist, (John ii. 13-17), though it has occasioned a considerable amount of discussion amongst the more verbal portion of commentators, is obviously of no vital moment, and therefore we feel justified in dismissing it at present with a mere reference to the opinion of Tholuck.*

* "The identity of these two occurrences was first maintained by some English theologians, Pierce and Priestly, and subsequently by a majority of the recent writers, (by Krabbe himself, c. 1. p. 248.) After most writers (even Strauss, 1st ed.) had contended at first for the correctness, chronologically, of the position it held in the Synop tical Gospels, the opinion now is that the position in John is the correct one, as also Strauss held in the 3rd ed. though decidedly on the other side in the 4th ed. The Synoptists, it is supposed, had probably got an account of our Saviour's driving the dealers out of the temple, but without a complete historical detail, and as they knew of no other Passover, at least furnish an account of no other than the last, they "have disposed of it" in this place. We ask, first, has the repetition of the action during Christ's last entry into the temple any improbability? We can find none. We should not be surprised if the dealers had by the very next Passover renewed their evil course; in fact, the opposite could only be anticipated in the degree to which this extraordinary appearance in the department of religion, made an impression on their consciences. Perhaps, however, the disorder was abated for the second year; if, however, in the third year, the impression from the earlier period did not remain in sufficient strength to prevent its repetition, there is nothing in this to occasion surprise. Christ, in the Synoptists, does not allude to His having acted in a similar manner before, but the tradition transmits in all cases only the more striking characteristics of the discourse. To these would especially belong what Christ says, v. 19, as we see by the repeated allusions to it, of which mention has already been made. If, now, what the Evangelists recount, is the same fact mentioned by John, should we not expect to find in them this important expression of Christ? We would lay no weight upon the other points of dissimilarity in the narratives, but that this expression is wanting in the Synoptists, we must regard as an evidence that they narrate a different occurrence. It has, indeed, been thought that in Matt. xxi. 23; Luke xx. 2; we have the same thing that John, ii. 18, mentions; but the question of the superiors there refers to the teaching, and occurs, according to Matthew, on the following day, according to Luke, on one of the following days."

I shall use this strange and striking incident to illustrate three things:-The ideal temple, or the temple as it should be on earth; -The actual temple, or the temple as it is found on earth;-The cleansed temple, or the ideal temple to be realized by Christ on earth.

I. THE IDEAL TEMPLE, OR THE TEMPLE AS IT SHOULD BE ON EARTH. The words and actions of Christ here present us with two facts which serve to give a tolerably full and faithful description of the temple as it should be.

First That it is a special meeting-place between man and the great God. The Divine Redeemer here calls it His house; -"My house." The Bible in various places calls the temple the "house of the Lord." In a sense the great universe is His house; He lives in all, and occupies every part of the immeasurable palace. But He has a special connexion with places reared by His people, according to His directions for Divine instruction and worship. He is there in a capacity in which He is discovered nowhere else ;-as the Redeeming God. Abroad in the universe He is everywhere seen as the Almighty Creator, Sustainer, and Sovereign, but in the temple He is revealed as the Saviour of guilty man. The temple

is "His house;" in it He dwells for a certain moral purpose. He is there to meet sinners, and "to commune with them from off the mercy seat" of Christ's mediation. Abroad in the creation He gives you the natural revelations of Himself; but in the true temple He gives you the gospel revelations of Himself; and these are the revelations essential to your well-being as sinners. Man's great want is the "power of God as it is seen in the sanctuary."

The passage suggests concerning the ideal temple:

Secondly That it is a special meeting-place between man and God in man's social capacity. The temple was a public building for a social purpose. It was not a closet for one, or even a private dwelling for a family, it was a place for the accommodation of all. It was a place where men were to meet God together; not so much in their individual as in

not

their social capacity. Here all intellectual and social grades are to intermingle, regardless of all conventional distinctions. "The rich and the poor meet" under the sacred impression that "the Lord is the Maker of them all." The sympathies and souls of all classes are to blend in their devotions,-words of prayer, and songs of praise, all mingling together. Social worship is a want of human nature, and a wise, ancient, and divine institution. It is enjoined by the authority of Heaven, and sanctioned by the example of the inspired and the good of every age. There are many who profess to believe in Christianity, who estimate lightly public worship. They think, and sometimes say, that they read the scriptures and worship God at home in their own dwelling; and that they need go abroad to unite with others in acts of public devotion. It is to be feared that the majority of such persons never worship at all. The man who neglects private devotion may often attend public; but it is very seldom, I think, that the man who customarily neglects public, attends private worship. I confess to have but little faith in the private devotions of those who systematically neglect the social devotions of God's people. Public worship is not an arbitrary institution,-a thing that may or may not be. It arises out of the very nature of things, it is founded upon the properties and wants of our social nature. If man were an isolated being, if he stood alone, dissevered from all beings in the universe but God, then his private worship would be all that was required. Or if he were united only to the members of his family, then his domestic prayers would be sufficiently public for him. But as he is linked to the race, as he is a social being that pants for intercourse with others, has a heart made to expand in generous sympathies for mankind, his devotions demand association with others. Public worship is a divine and necessary school to educate, purify, and perfect, our social natures. Here the affections of the soul are drawn out by the sublimest influences of God upon the mind. Man loses all proud ideas of external distinction here and feels that he stands upon the same common basis as the meanest man

that walks the globe. Here the spirit is made to yearn with compassion for the woes of the sinner, and to glow with love for those who are brethren in Christ. Man requires the strong influences of "the great congregation" to take him out of the narrow circle of his own individual interests, to break down those barriers of selfhood that shut the soul up in itself, and to bring him out into the great sphere of universal interests. This is what public worship does. It draws the soul out of itself, and lifts it by a Divine social excitement into union with all that is true, loving, and Godlike.

There is yet another thought which the passage suggests concerning the ideal temple, and that is :—

:

Thirdly That it is a special meeting-place between the great God and man in his social capacity, for the exercises of piety and philanthropy. The paragraph authorises us to infer that the temple should be specially used for at least two purposes-Prayer and beneficence. As to the first it is here called the "house of prayer." The spirit of prayer is the realization of the creature's dependence upon his Creator; and inasmuch as this should ever be our controlling state of mind, we should pray "without ceasing," pray everywhere, and at all times. Prayer should be the breath of our souls. The temple, however, is for the special exercise of the prayer. Here by religious thought and concentration of soul, we are to feed the flame of devotion, that it may burn more intensely and brightly through every part of our lives. The temple is "the house of prayer," the house in which the spirit of prayer is to be generated and nurtured to an all-commanding power in our every-day consciousness. But it is not only a place for prayer, but for beneficence. The paragraph informs us that "the blind and the lame came to him in the temple and he healed them." What Christ did in the temple we may rest assured is

right to be done within its sacred precincts. It is a scene not merely for the cultivation of the spirit of prayer, but for the cultivation of true benevolence. It is a scene for

the unsealing of our social sympathies, and drawing them out into practical efforts to bless the needy. It is as religious to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and heal the wounded, in the temple, as it is to pray. The true temple is the house of beneficence as well as the house of prayer. Such then is a brief sketch of the ideal temple as suggested by the words and works of Christ, recorded in the passage before us. It is a scene of a special meeting between man and his Maker as a social being, and between him and his Maker as a social being for the exercises of piety and philanthrophy.

"And it came to pass after these things that God did tempt Abraham, and said unto him, Abraham: and he said, Behold, here I am," &c. Gen. xxii. 1—14.

3nalysis of Homily the Four Hundred and Ninety-sixth.

any

Is there narrative in scripture more solemn and affecting, more graphic in its delineation, than this? In the dim light of the early morning we see the mournful procession,Abraham, Isaac, the servants, the ass, the cloven wood for the burnt offering; and following them through the two days journey, we come at length to the closing scene of the drama, where the uplifted knife gleams for one awful moment, and is then averted in its descent by the angel's voice, from the hitherto silent, and inexorable, heavens. contemplate it not merely as a scene of thrilling interest. There is profound instruction here as to the power and the reward of faith. No curious and painful definition

But we