you into the scene of trial, he will go with you to for tify your virtue, and he will go out with you from it to teach you to walk circumspectly. He will go in with you to the furnace of affliction, that your experience there may be like that of the three children in Babylon. The astonished monarch said, "Lo, I see four men loose walking in the midst of the fire, and they have no hurt, and the form of the fourth is like the Son of God." And he will go forth with you to heighten the joy, and to secure the fruit of deliver. ance. He will go with you to the house of mourning to give the oil of joy, and he will go forth with you, that in your path, darkened by the shadows of death, you may walk in the light of his countenance.

The time is coming when you must go forth from the world by a path dark and dismal. Your dear companions in all your former dangers and sorrows cannot then go with you. But you shall not depart alone: he will take you by the hand, and be your guide through death. And he will go in with you to heaven. Are you terrified at the idea of going to God the judge of all? He will go with you to present you to his Father as the subjects of his kingdom, and the friends of his heart; and his presence will open to you all the mansions of rest, and all the fountains of joy. Amen.

SERMON V.

The Ascension notified.

JOHN XX. 17.

"Jesus saith unto her, Touch me not, for I am not yet ascended to my Father; but go to my brethren, and say to them, I ascend to my Father and your Father, and to my God and your God."

THE narrative of which these words form a part, is uncommonly beautiful and affecting. The events which it relates are highly important, and the impressions which it describes are the genuine movements of the purest feelings. It teaches the most valuable lessons in a style whose sweet simplicity affords a fine contrast to the laboured rant and puerile embellishments of false taste, and touches without effort or parade every principle of sensibility in the heart.

Mary had come to our Saviour's tomb to pay the last tribute of respect to his sacred body. She wished to behold him whom she had seen so barbarously treated, reposing in that quiet mansion where the wicked cease from troubling, and to mourn by his side whose friendship and whose mercy had been the honour and the happiness of her life. To her great surprise she found the tomb empty, and immediately communicated the intelligence to Peter and John. When they were convinced, by inspecting the tomb, that the body was not there, they went away to their own home; but

Mary could not quit this scene. Dreading that her Saviour's body had been taken away to be subjected to some new indignity, she wept bitterly. The sight of the two angels in white sitting in the sepulchre, could not assuage her sorrow; and no appearance, however splendid, could divert her mind from the subject which completely engrossed her feelings. A generous heart may, during deep sorrow, heave a sigh for the misery which it passes by, but it sees nought in the scene of prosperity or pomp to which its emotions can be assimilated. Our Lord knew the sincerity and the bitterness of her grief, and, with a considerate kindness, would not suffer her to continue long a prey to distracting solicitude. The manner in which he made himself known to her, beautifully exhibits his wisdom and love. Jesus asked her, Why weepest thou? whom seekest thou?" She, supposing him to be the gardener, said, "If thou hast borne him hence, tell me where thou hast laid him, and I will take him away." She thought she would convey the body to some place where she would have the melancholy satisfaction of knowing that it slept unmolested. Though our Lord was pleased with that affection to him which this purpose expressed, he could not keep her longer in anxiety and suspense, but in a tone which her ear and her heart instantly recognized, said to her, "Mary." It is impossible to describe her astonishment and rapture at this blessed moment. She could only say,

"Rabboni." Her heart was so full that she could not utter another syllable, but kneeled down to embrace his feet, to give vent to a joy that was unspeakable. At that moment Jesus addressed to her the words of the text; in which he taught her to prefer the comfort of her brethren, and obedience to his will, to the indulgence of her own feelings.

In this discourse, I shall direct your attention to the check which Christ gave to Mary's expressions of affection and joy; to the view which is here presented of his ascension; and to the notice of this which he ordered her to convey to the disciples.

I. It appears difficult to account for this prohibition, "Touch me not, for I am not yet ascended to my Father." Had it been the homage of an impure and hypocritical heart, it would not have been surprising that it was rejected by our Lord; but he knew the soul of Mary was pure and devout, and yet he permits not the most respectful testimony which it could give of its feelings. He who gave his cheek to the kiss of Judas, would not permit Mary to touch his feet. Some have supposed that this prohibition was intended to show that the familiarity which had marked his intercourse with his followers, was no longer to be admitted. The condescension which might become the Man of Sorrows, accorded not with the dignity to which he was now advancing. But it seems more probable, that our Saviour acted thus, because he wished not that time occupied in paying her homage to him which was so strongly required for the advantage of her brethren. She imagined that he was now withdrawing from the world, but he tells her that this would not be the case for some time, and that she would have sufficient opportunity hereafter to express her regard. The perplexities of the disciples required immediate relief, and her first duty was to impart to them the glad tidings of his resurrection and unabated love.

How strongly does this circumstance teach us to prefer the spiritual welfare of our brethren to our own gratification! We must not refuse to quit the happiest scene of religious enjoyment, when Christ calls us to

comfort the feeble minded, or be unwilling to leave the place where the word and Spirit of Christ are shedding light and gladness around us, to visit the bewildered and the desponding. Nor is this a hard saying, for there is a great pleasure in benevolent exertion; and did we think, in the moments of pious delight, on the mournful state of those who are sinking in despair, we would be ready to relieve them by every possible effort. The sacrifices made by such benevolence the Redeemer can compensate by a communion more blissful than any we have relinquished. The worldling would treat with scorn the proposal to leave the scene of gaiety to minister to the poor and the wretched; but the grace of God inclines the pious to relinquish pleasures far higher and nobler at the call of duty. And he certainly deserves sucha sacrifice as this from us, "Who, though he was rich, for our sakes became poor, that we through his poverty might be made rich." The great moral lesson taught us by this part of the text, is set before us by Paul, in the beginning of the 15th chapter of the Epistle to the Romans: "We then that are strong, ought to bear the infirmities of the weak, and not to please ourselves. Let every one of us please his neighbour for his good to edification, for even Christ pleased not himself."

II. Let us now consider the view here given by our Lord of his ascension.

His language intimates its certainty; for of it he had the fullest assurance. It was not like the splendid visions by which the hopes of the ambitious are so often raised and disappointed, nor like the vain expectations by which many in the humblest scenes are deluded. There never was a human heart superior to every vain hope but his own. In his prospects he