The question implies the sinner's moral distance from Jesus. The sinner is not with Jesus, but away from him. We have said "moral distance," for there is a solemn sense in which no sinner is at a distance from the Saviour. The Saviour besets

him behind and before, and lays his right hand upon him. He restrains him. He draws him. He sustains him. He is with him. always, unwilling to give him up-following him till the cup of iniquity is full, and then, as of old, weeping the tear of compassion over him.

The question implies that momentous interests are at stake while this moral distance from Jesus exists. To be out of sympathy with Plato or Socrates is nothing. To refuse subjection to many of the mental monarchs of this and other ages is nothing. To have no ecclesiastical centre, or sympathy, or recognition, is nothing. But there is wrapt up in this question of relation to Jesus all that is grand in moral existence. The distance increases with every day that passes. The darkness increases with the distance. There is doom in the darkness.

The question implies that the coming is not a LOCAL but a MORAL coming. It is not a transfer of the body from one place to another. It is not a physical pilgrimage. It is a coming of the soul. It is a coming of the thought to apprehend and receive the truth about Jesus. It is a coming of the heart to love and trust Jesus. It is a coming of the will to be obedient to Jesus. Since, then, it is a question of "coming," and of "soul-coming," it is also a question of voluntary coming. "Coming" is action and free action. There can be no coming to Jesus for salvation that is not a voluntary coming. To come round to the Saviour's views of things, to sympathise with these views, to fit into them, is action, is free action, is moral action. It demands attention. It demands intention. It demands an entire surrender of the soul to Jesus. But all this implies activity on the part of man. man, then, capable of such activity? In other words, Can he come to Jesus? Can he lessen the distance in thought, in heart, and in moral aim, that is between him and Jesus? Can he, as a sinner, yielding to the drawing Spirit, approach and give himself to Jesus? It must be manifest that if he cannot do that, he cannot do anything. Passive as the reed, he must bend before whatever wind may blow.

Is

The idea that man is unable to come to the Saviour, has exerted a very potent influence on the minds of men, and is, we hold, very ruinous in its tendencies. The philosophy on which it is based, the logic by which it is defended, the Scriptures to which it -appeals, and the illustrations by which it wins its way into thought,

The

must all get a twist ere it can be recommended to men. preacher must often become a sophist when trying to inculcate the doctrine. He must often stultify his own logic. His illustrations must often limp. His exegesis must often be more inventive than sound.

In the illustrations which we have of the soul's passivity, the evil comes out very strongly Sometimes the soul is represented as soil into which seed is cast, but in which it will never grow unless very special and discriminative blessings are given by God. And it is round the giving of these blessings that doubt is taught to gather. It is only there uncertainty is found. There is faith in everything but God's blessing. There alone dces the infidelity come out. Sometimes the soul is likened to a corpse ; and preaching, and persuasion, and labour, are represented as being as ineffectual as oratory or music would be on the chiselled statue or block of wood. Then, again, it is pourtrayed as lying at the pool, full of impotence, full of uncertainty, but the only thing admitting of doubt being whether the agitating angel will come, and whether, if he should come, a strong hand may bring the soul in contact with the blessing. Then, again, we have the soul represented by the ship at sea-built, launched, rigged, and hung with sails, but incapable of motion till God blows with his winds and wafts it on, the only doubt being whether God will thus blow with his holy influence. Or its passive condition is represented by that of the candle in the socket. The human soul is set in the midst of gospel advantages, but there is no illumination till God is pleased to light it up and command it to shine, the only thing of doubt being whether God will ever so light it up. Now, it is impossible to hinder such illustrations from exerting a very ruinous influence upon the general mind. It is in vain to cry-" Come to Jesus," "Come just now," if at the heels of such expressions the idea of utter passivity be conveyed, utter inability and unfitness for doing what God has commanded to be done. It is effort lost; something worse.

Is man, then, unable to come to Jesus?

To say that the man does not come, is to say nothing to the purpose. It is a melancholy truth that vast multitudes do not. But to reason from the absence of the fact, to the absence of the power of the act, would be very false logic.. Such a mode of argumentation would lift you out of the sphere of all responsible action. But the advocates of inability are not prepared to give up responsibility. And yet, if the absence of the act proves the absence of the power, it will prove something else. There can be no responsibility where there is no ability.

The measure of the one is the

measure of the other. Power must underlie obligation; and if you hold that the man was under obligation to come, you must also hold that he could have come. You must then give up the idea of inability.

To say that the sinner is not willing to come to Jesus, is not to answer the question. The controversy is not about the exercise of the power, but about its existence. Has he the ability to come? It may be a solemn truth that multitudes are not willing; but the question is, could they will? For since it is no physical coming, it must be a coming of the soul. But any coming of the soul must be a coming of the will. But such a coming cannot be, if no ability exists. Thus to confound the existence of the volition, with the volitional power, is to mistake the question and beat the air.

To say that the sinner has no disposition to come, is not to answer the question. The question is not one of disposition, or wish, or desire, but of power. If power is denied, the man is rendered passive. If passive, then dispositions, wishes, desires, are things over which he has no control. His heart must move at the bidding of whatever object addresses it. He has no way by which unholy and adverse dispositions and desires may be subdued, and the heart set round in the direction of human duty and desires for good. Control, in any way, of the heart is impossible to him. But if impossible, he is no longer the responsible being we suppose God to have made him.

To say that he is not able of himself to come, is not to answer the question. The controversy is not one about human selfsufficiency. For what is it that man can do of himself? Why, he cannot even sin of himself. The question is one which takes into consideration all the divine relations to the soul. It looks at the power and favour with which God has begirt it. It looks at the remedial surroundings in the midst of which God has placed it. It assumes the glorious gospel cincture which God has thrown around it. And then it asks, can the sinner now approach and accept eternal life from the bleeding hand?

The logical transit, from the nature and extent of the Holy Spirit's work, to the question of inability, is very plain. That work is supposed to be limited in its sphere and irresistible in its nature. It takes effect directly upon the soul. The man is supposed to be made a new creature before he believes. The Holy Spirit's work is thus accomplished apart from instrumentality. The soul is begotten, but not "through the gospel," not "with the word of truth," nor "through faith," nor by "obeying the truth," nor" by the word

of God which liveth and abideth for ever," but by some direct and immediate act of the Holy Spirit. It is thus apart from the truth that the work is done. In the whole matter the soul is passive. If it were by instrumentality, the soul's activity would be demanded. If it were by the truth, then thought would be needed. But thought could not be without attention. And attention implies something more than thought. There must be some power to hold the eye of thought in contact with the truth. But this is impossible if the soul is unable to do anything in the direction of salvation. If there be no power, then there can be no

attention.

Now, we object to this doctrine, because it does not give the gospel fair play. We demand fair play for the gospel. The gospel is God's grand measure, to meet man's pressing wants. It tells of a Saviour's work for the chief of sinners. It demands faith in that Saviour. It demands that the sinner come to Jesus. But if the sinner cannot come, then the gospel is not the measure that we need. The doctrine is thus an accusation of divine wisdom. It represents his plan as not adapted to the circumstances. God's gospel thus does not get fair play. It is not presented as he has given it. To preach that gospel to men, as if they were statues or marble blocks, is not to give it fair play. You can convey no idea of its divine force by so doing. Persuade men that they cannot receive it, and you become the most formidable obstacle the gospel has. Need we wonder that the gospel triumphs are so few?

We object to this doctrine because it ever gives the sinner the best of the argument against the preacher. That ministry is powerless for good that cannot tear the last rag of self-defence from the unsaved man. But to tell him that he cannot come to Jesus, is to fortify him in his iniquity. So long as he remains away, he remains in sin. And to tell him that he cannot do otherwise, is to take the point from every arrow you aim at his heart. You here put a shield into his hands which no lance of yours will pierce. Ply him as you may, you have taught him to say "I cannot." His philosophy is sounder than yours. His logic is stronger than yours. And if ever you move him, you must shift the point of attack, you must employ other weapons. You. have taught him to misread his own nature, to misread the Bible. The only thing he reads aright is the character of your teaching; and while, in his love for sin, he is willing enough to take advantage of your teaching, he, nevertheless, sees it to be full of contradiction. To say, for example, with Dr. Cairns, "that it is the fault of the sinner that he is not in the unity of the faithful," is to employ very weak language to a man to whom

you have before said, that he cannot come to Jesus. "Fault !" he would say, "is that which is impossible a fault? Is that which is beyond my power a fault? Why do you first tell me I cannot, and then tell me that it is a fault that I do not?" Such a course of instruction may perplex, blind, bewilder, but it ever gives the sinner the best of the argument.

We object to this doctrine, because the sinner's experience is opposed to it. Notwithstanding the influence of the doctrine, there are moments when he knows and feels that he is not right, that he cannot justify himself, and that he must become a changed man ere a genuine shield can come between his heart and danger. His self-accusation teaches him that there must be something wrong in the doctrine. Why is he thus restless? Why does he blame himself? And why does he read in the Bible that his God blames him? No, it wont do. The doctrine must be defective somewhere. For if he cannot come to Jesus, why should he be blamed for remaining away from him? But conscience is stronger than this doctrine. The Bible is stronger. The dictates of the soul are stronger. He may not understand all the intricacies of the question, but he feels that this doctrine has no solace for him.

We object, because the practice of the preacher is opposed to it. Doctrine may surely be expected to influence practice. If I believed that the sinner could not come to Jesus, would I be likely to plead with, pray, and seek to persuade him to come? Would there not be as much wisdom in pleading with the door-posts? But the men who teach this doctrine of inability do exhort, and rebuke, and seek to persuade, their fellows to come to Jesus. They root their arguments deep, they make them flower into beauty. They try to take hold of the reason, to rouse the conscience, to interest the heart, to captivate the imagination. They select the startling anecdote, the telling hymn, or gem of poetry. They advertise largely. For what purpose is all this? They hurl strong words in the face of their fellows. They utter words of warning. Sometimes graphic pictures of the coming doom are sketched. Now, why is this? Is it not that they may prevail with men, and persuade them to come to Jesus? But then, if men cannot, what do these efforts mean ?

We contend for this ability to come to Jesus, because an accurate psychology demands it. Sin has done fearful damage, but it has not destroyed all power in the soul. Whoever is capable of intelligent introspection, of turning the eye inward and reading the soul's workings as they come out in consciousness, must be convinced that there is still the power of turning the