disciples was to wash their feet, with the express injunction on them to follow his example.

Contemplate also the MEEKNESS which adorned our divine Lord. His language to his disciples was, Learn of me, for I am meek and lowly of heart; and St. Paul beseeches the Corinthians by the meekness and gentleness of Christ. These were indeed as remarkable, as the dulness of his disciples and the contradiction of the Jews. When his disciples would have called down fire from heaven to consume the city which received him not, he turned gently, and without any reproach said, Ye know not what manner of spirit ye are of. When the Jews would have stoned him, he meekly asked, Many good works have I showed you from my Father: for which of these works do ye stone me? When Simon wondered that he received a woman that was a sinner, he said to him with unruffled calmness, Simon, I have somewhat to say unto thee; and then delivered the beautiful parable of the two debtors. In short, our Lord's meekness, self-government, regulation of anger, and clemency, were indeed without spot' or 'blemish.' He was never disturbed, never irritated, never surprised, never thrown off his guard.

Nor was his PATIENCE less observable. He suffered for us, leaving us an example that we should follow his steps; when he was reviled, he reviled not again; when he suffered he threatened not. He deeply felt indeed every affliction, as appears from his intense prayers during his agony, but he was perfectly patient and resigned under them. He was led as a sheep to the slaughter; and as a lamb before his shearers is dumb, so opened he not his mouth. During a life of woe and a death of torment, not one impatient word escaped his lips.

With this were united the most lively feelings of COMPASSION. On one occasion we are informed,

that when he saw the multitudes, he had compassion on them; on another, that he had compassion on the people, and taught them many things. He sighed deeply in spirit, when the Pharisees asked him a sign from heaven, and was grieved because of the hardness of their hearts. Twice the Saviour wept-at the grave of Lazarus, and as he approached the devoted city of Jerusalem. His miracles were continually marked by the tenderest feelings of sympathy and compassion. He raised the only son of the widow of Nain, and himself delivered him to his mother; he raised the only daughter of Jairus, and Lazarus the only brother of Martha and Mary whom he loved. His last discourse with his disciples overflows with compassion. He quite seems to forget his own sufferings which were just about to begin, in order that he may comfort them. Even on the cross he pitied his disconsolate mother, and commended her to the care of his beloved disciple. Thus we have not an High Priest that cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin.

Of our Lord's FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES, I will only say that his whole life exhibits one scene of reproach and injustice on the part of the Jews, and of forgiveness on his own. Even on the cross this disposition did not forsake him; but whilst his murderers were in the very act itself of driving the nails into his hands and feet, he prayed, Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.

Such is a very inadequate specimen of the excellencies of our Saviour's conduct. But a perfect character demands not merely the assemblage of distinct excellencies, but their harmonious conjunetion and union.

Let us therefore consider,

II. THE COMBINATION AND HARMONIOUS CON

JUNCTION OF THESE QUALITIES IN THE CHARACTER OF OUR LORD.

This may indeed be inferred from the consideration of the separate excellencies of our Saviour's conduct, and especially from the wisdom which adorned them all; but the point is so important as to deserve a distinct notice.

Nothing is so rare or so difficult as the combination of the various duties and graces which constitute the Christian character; and yet it is in this combination that the evidence of a real change of heart principally lies. There are some dispositions of mind and some duties which are, from our natural temperament, our age, our station, and our circumstances, so natural and easy to us, as scarcely to be deemed distinct marks of our regeneration. In fact, they are often little more than apparent virtues; they vanish with every change of circumstances, they give way to selfish and excessive passions, and even decline into the positive correspondent vices, unless they are checked and balanced by the opposite, and to us more difficult, graces and duties, which should accompany and guard them.

Now, in our divine Master, there was the most perfect combination of every excellency. All he preached and required from others, he practised himself. He united all that became the Mediator and Lord of heaven and earth, with all that became Him who, for our sakes, was a worm and no man. He reconciled the most remote and discordant qualities. When asserting his authority and summoning all the world to his tribunal, he spake with an inexpressible dignity and majesty on other occasions he was the most humble and meek of men. Even under all his sufferings and ignominy, there shone forth a superiority and greatness of mind, which confounded his enemies. He displayed also

the utmost tenderness and mildness, and yet the most unyielding boldness and fortitude. His meekness did not degenerate into apathy, mere easiness of temper, timidity, or indifference, like that of Eli or Jehoshaphat. Nor did his boldness become fierce and ungovernable. There was in him that union of opposite virtues, which constitutes a perfect character: whilst others have virtues of one description only. All was in order, all in proportion, all from principle, all in harmony.

He combined, in like manner, the most exuberant compassion to sinners with the greatest hatred of sin; the most exquisite sensibility, with a perfect command of his feelings; the purest spirituality of mind, with a consideration of all the minute wants and circumstances of his hearers; the highest love to the souls of men, with the most affectionate regard to their bodies; the most complete superiority to the world, with a respectful submission to the authorities ecclesiastical and civil; an entire separation from the follies and sins of mankind, without a trait of austerity or misanthropy; the most faithful reproof of the vices of the Pharisees and Scribes, with a due attention to their stations, and a moderation which never overstated an argument, or outraged unnecessarily the feelings of his oppo

nents.

This constitutes no small part of the excellency of our Lord's character. Christians can readily follow their Master in some one branch of these graces. We can be compassionate; but then we are so candid as to countenance sin. We can show a lively sensibility of affection; but then we fall under its power and are subdued. We can be spiritually minded; but then we are not so willing to attend to the minor details of ordinary duty. We could not, for instance, have washed the disciples' feet, or entered the mean abode of poverty, or have

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gone into the publican's house to instruct him. We can express great tenderness for the bodies of men, but we leave their souls, comparatively speaking, to perish. Or we may profess a love to their souls, but we contribute sparingly and reluctantly to relieve the pains and sufferings of our common nature. We can express a contempt for the world; but then we at the same time fall into sin by doing it in a cynical, inconsistent, covetous, censorious, pharisaical spirit. We can defend the truth; but with the zeal of a partizan, and without sufficient respect for the persons or opinions of our adversaries. Thus we follow our own turn of mind with some sincerity of religious feeling, and without perhaps any great faults; but we are far from imitating, or attempting to imitate, the combination of virtues which appeared in our Saviour. We lean with all our weight on one side. We think it some excuse that our inclination and turn of mind has a peculiar bias; whereas we should study our Lord's character in order expressly to copy those parts of it to which our natural dispositions would least attract us. In this way we shall unite, as our Lord did, all the milder virtues with all the more firm and intrepid ones; we shall display the graces of the contemplative life with the efforts of the active-an union which may be said to comprise the whole compass of our obedience to God.

"Never was a character," says Archbishop Newcombe, "at the same time so commanding and natural, so resplendent and pleasing, so amiable and venerable as that of Christ. There is a peculiar contrast in it between an awful dignity and majesty, and the most engaging loveliness, tenderness, and softness. He now converses with prophets, lawgivers, and angels; and the next instant he meekly endures the dulness of his disciples, and the blasphemies and rage of the multitude. He now calls