thought to, or away from, whatever object is presented. The soul as positively asserts, "I will," or "I will not," now, as ever it did in any period of the past. An accurate reading of our own soul demands this. And it can be no honour given to God, it can advance no genuine interest of theology, it can do nothing for the triumph of the gospel, to mislead that soul. The reverse must be the case. And hence, the history of the gospel-ministry will prove, that when this idea of inability has been insisted on, a soporific influence has descended on the people. They have been locked fast in the arms of a fatal sleep, and God has been kept waiting with hands outstretched to a people whose eyes have been closed lest they should see and be converted. But when men have been taught that they can and ought, conscience has been listened to and souls saved.

We contend for this ability, because accurate ETHICS demand it. It is impossible intelligently to deal with the questions of sin, obligation, responsibility, and judgement, on any other ground. If there be no ability to come, there can be no sin in staying away. If no ability, no obligation; if no obligation, no responsibility; if no responsibility, no punishment. To say that God has not lost the power to command, though man has lost the power to obey, is to trifle. It is, moreover, to assume the whole question. It assumes that the power to obey is lost. To think of imposing obligation where there is no power, of demanding responsibility where there is no power, of inflicting judgement where there is no power to obey, is to destroy the very idea of government.

But we contend for this ability because the Bible in every variety of phase teaches it. Jesus distinctly bids the sinner "come" to him. Now, would the Great Teacher bid the sinner do an impossibility? Here is a man who has not yet come to Jesus. But he is told to come. Now, can he? No? Then, what sort of a teacher is Christ? He is made to say-I bid you come, but you cannot come. I hold you responsible, but you cannot obey. My Father must punish you, but you could not do his will. Is it conceivable that teaching like this can be in harmony with the mind of Jesus? Impossible.

Besides, if the sinner cannot come though Jesus bids him, how can he stay away? He must do the one or the other. But either implies power. He can stay away just because he can come. He could come if in intelligent speech it can be said that he can stay away. If he cannot obey Jesus, how can he disobey? The one or the other must be done. But action is implied in disobedience as much as in obedience. And so, too, with the

He can reject the truth.

idea of belief. But if he can reject it, surely he can receive it. Either way demands power.

But Jesus does not only bid the sinner come to him, he accuses him for not coming-"Ye will not come." Jesus does not speak of any want of power. He could not. His teaching was too true to the facts of the case to admit of that. He knew that they could, but chose to do otherwise.

But Jesus does not only bid the sinner come, and blame him when he does not come; when opportunity is gone, he weeps and says "I would, but ye would not." It surely cannot be a very attractive theology that would alter this thought, and make it"I would, but ye could not,"-"I was willing to receive you, but ye could not come."

Then, God the Father is represented as stretching out his hands to a gainsaying people. But why stretch out hands to men who have no power to come? Why that divine attitude? It is im possible to avoid the conclusion that God regards his child man as able to respond to his call.

Then, again, the Divine Spirit says, Come. But why this fine unity of divine action, if after all the sinner is unable. It is a doctrine that strikes at the root of every relation that God sustains to man the sinner.

Then, as if to strike at the root of every objection or difficulty, we have Jesus saying, “Come, for all things are now ready." But what could this mean if the doctrine of inability be true? Spread your table, and then bid the dead man eat, the lame man come, the bound man put forth his hand and eat! Is it thus you would act? What mockery! And yet this is the conduct attributed to the glorious Jesus. We could believe a great many things before we could believe that.

And if we go into the Old Testament we find the same plain language addressed to man. "Come, let us reason together." If men were unable, could such language be intelligently addressed to them? The same element of power is implied in the words, "Turn ye, turn ye, why will ye die?" But why say "turn," if men are not able. And then the words," why will ye die?" what can they mean? When, again, it is said, "Look unto me and be saved," the same element of power must be implied. If thought cannot be directed to Jesus, such words can have no conceivable meaning for man.

We contend for this ability, because we must ever cling to the idea of the Divine sincerity. When such words as those we have

noticed are before us, we must form some opinion regarding them. We must reach some conclusion. Now, we cannot, we dare not, come to any conclusion that would cloud the Divine sincerity. There is a great throbbing heart in all these words. There is a tearful earnestness in them all. Nothing, then, must be allowed to shake our thoughts on that. If shadows rest there, there is no light anywhere. We believe in the sincerity of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and since they teach that man ought and can, we dare not question it. Thus the river of argument swells. There are many tributaries. Its force increases as we follow it. Before its rush every human erection must disappear. Everywhere from the high lands of divine truth; everywhere from the plains of accurate thought, come rills and rivulets whose congregated waters must one day sweep from the churches this fatal impediment to the gospel's progress.

R. M.-G.

HE LOVED ME AND GAVE HIMSELF FOR ME.-Whence the wondrous charm of these words? There is nothing peculiar in their sound. There is nothing of glowing imagination. The power and pomp of poetry are absent. There are no magnificent similes, no brilliant metaphors, no flashing of allusion to things of literary glory, no scenic touches that lead the cultured mind to run by recollection, as in a state of rapture, from chamber to chamber of ideal imagery. There is, on

the contrary, the entire absence, not only of the tricks, but even of the honourable and legitimate appliances of rhetoric, and there is the utmost simplicity of phraseology—the quietest monosyllables and dissyllables possible. And yet, how touchingly they come home to the bosom and the heart! How sublimely! Whence this sublimity? It is in the great sublimity of the great reality represented :-The Son of God loved me—even me—and gave himself for me, poor and wicked though I be. To attempt to gild the idea with the glare of glittering words would be as ridiculous as to throw up sparkles from a candle to illume the mid-day sun.

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OBITUARY NOTICES.

I. REV. JAMES CRON.

THE Rev. James Cron of Langholm, a beloved young servant of Christ, got his summons to rise into a higher sphere of service, on July 18th, 1865.

He was born at Durrisdeer Mill, Dumfriesshire, on April 14th, 1842. He received the rudiments of his education at the village school. But the passion for study, which subsequently characterised him, was first aroused at Mennock, under the tutorship of a cousin of his own. Exhausting the resources of the school there, he was sent to Wallace-Hall Academy, Closeburn, a superior educational Institution. It was during his attendance at this seminary that he came under the influence of the Great Teacher, and acquired the knowledge of the truth that saves and sanctifies. A series of revival meetings were being held, in January 1856, by the Rev. J. Pearson, the Pastor of the E. U. Church in Thornhill. The Rev. John Kirk of Edinburgh was assisting, and it was under his earnest ministrations that Mr. Cron and the Saviour met,-to part no more. Towards the close of that memorable year, Mr. Cron became a member of the Thornhill Church. In November, 1858, he matriculated in the Glasgow University, carrying with him not only fine literary aptitudes, but also fine christian resolutions. In a paper that has been found and which was signed by him "on the 2nd night of November, 1858," there are some twenty resolutions set down in reference to the future of his career; the last of which is as follows:"I resolve to train my intellect with all my power, and to strive to make all the imitable perfections of Jesus my own, in order that I may glorify God among men, and promote the best interests of Christ's kingdom in this world, by bringing many poor sinners to the cross of my Redeemer in whom I believe and have peace." Having gone to the University in this spirit, it is not to be marvelled at that he kept his garments unspotted in the midst of much that was fitted to pollute and corrupt.

Mr. Cron joined the E. U. Academy in August, 1859, and from the beginning of his curriculum to its close, he distinguished himself by his amiability, his literary taste, and his theological enthusiasm. He preached his first sermon in Maitland Street Hall, Cowcaddens, Glasgow,-a Mission Station connected with N. Dundas Street E. U. Church. His text was Rom. i. 16,-"I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ." There was something in the discourse that touched the people's hearts. Several inquirers remained for spiritual conversation.

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In the summer of 1861 he was appointed to preach for three successive months in Wick. His heart was enlarged, He was urged to return and and the people were blessed. prosecute the good work which he had begun. So, after attending the theological classes in August and September of the same year, he returned to the North, and worked with The hearty devotedness during the whole of the winter. people were stirred; souls were convinced and converted; and the youthful labourer, experiencing the joy of leading his fellow-men to his Saviour, worked "out of season," as well as "in season," and, alas! overworked his tender energies. For several Sabbaths before the term of his engagement expired, he preached with his hand pressing against his left side to dull the edge of a premonitory pain which was afflicting him. The premonition was unheeded, and became a prophecy. Irreparable injury was done.

But

He returned to the south and took rest, putting himself, at And he rallied so the same time, under medical treatment. far as to enable him, after intermitting a session, to resume and finish his studies at the Academy in 1863. his death was hovering over him. Indeed, to our eye, it had cast its shadow upon him, long before he suspected any We spoke to serious illness,-long before he went to Wick. him warningly in 1859, and remonstrated with him concerning some of the mental and physical overtaxation to which he was unnecessarily subjecting himself. But, at the time, he did not feel the arrest of positive pain, and he was incredulous in reference to danger.

On finishing his theological curriculum in the autumn of 1863, he went to Langholm, where he laboured in the gospel, with great acceptability and success throughout the winter. He received from the infant church a unanimous and pressing invitation to become their pastor; and he felt that he could not deny them. He was ordained in June 12th, 1864, and from that day onward, as for months before, he laboured incessantly and most successfully, though amid weakness and weariness and pain. His discourses were so fervent, his life, too, was so consistent, and his love to souls was so ardent, that he captivated the hearts of all who came in contact with him. The congregation grew and thrived. The church grew and thrived. But his disease, too, was His own soul grew and thrived. steadily and rapidly advancing. His candle,-though shining beautifully clear, and shedding a lovely radiance all aroundwas fast burning itself down into the socket, and consuming away in the midst of its own light. On the 15th of April, 1865, he was constrained to return to his father's house and his mother's nursing. His end was preannouncing itself. It was obvious to both father and mother that he was fast dying,