SERMON XXII.

MARK VI. 31.

And he said unto them, Come ye yourselves apart into a desert place, and rest a while: for there were many coming and going, and they had no leisure so much as to eat.

BEFORE I go on with the subject of the text, it may be right to make one or two remarks, in order to prevent what I said on Sunday last from being misunderstood, and that too, so misunderstood, as to render it mischievous rather than useful. I said, that it was very important that we should all understand clearly the particular class of characters to which we ourselves belong; that so we may each apply to ourselves the particular lesson which is intended for us. And, to apply this to the case before us, I said, that they who had no zeal for any kind of labour were not concerned with exhortations to choose rather that sort of labour which is most useful, and, still less, with warnings not to pursue their labour too eagerly. Such persons, I said, had not got far enough for lessons of this kind; but required first to learn from

our Lord's example of mere diligence in his calling, without regard to the after question of what his particular calling was. But, in thus speaking of classes of characters, I never supposed that these would always go along with particular ages, or particular situations in life. Generally speaking, no doubt, mere idleness is the fault of the very young; and, generally speaking, they would less require the warning against labouring in worldly things only, or against labouring without some intervals of religious rest. Yet it would be very foolish to suppose, either that no young boy had any need to be reminded of these points, or that no older person required to be excited to simple diligence and exertion. There are many cases in which the older require what is properly the instruction of the young,--many in which the young require to be warned against the faults of more advanced age,—many also, in which both will stand in need at once of both. It happens that one fault may be partly, not entirely subdued; that we may be grown enough in character to be liable to new temptations, without being out of the reach of our old ones; that, therefore, we may require to guard at once against the evils which beset different points of our progress, even if we need not guard against each in an equal degree. But of all this no man can judge in his neighbour; it were well if he could always judge truly of it even in himself. In speaking then of the besetting faults of early age, I do not mean, either that all the young require most to be warned against these, or that none but the young are concerned with them; in speaking of the besetting faults

of a riper character, there may be young persons who have great need to beware of them, and there may be old persons who have not; and, again, there may be very many, both old and young, to whom it may be highly useful to be cautioned against both.

These things are of consequence every where, but particularly so in a congregation like the present, where the differences of age are so strongly marked. Were this not remembered, I might be thought, at one time, to be preaching against one part of my hearers, and, at another time, against another; and the remarks that I make may be supposed to be levelled at particular persons, rather than at particular faults and dangers. And those differences in our situation and relations to one another, which elsewhere are necessarily kept up, may be carried into things, and to places where they should be wholly lost sight of. For when we are here assembled, as more immediately in the presence of God, our relation to God and Christ is brought out into such clear light, and presses, or ought to press, so strongly upon the minds of us all, that our common earthly relations to each other sink, for the time, into insignificance. There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female; but Christ is all and in all.

One thing more may be added, which ought also to be always taken into the account, in the exercise of the Christian ministry. The preacher, in speaking of faults and temptations, should not be supposed to have gained his knowledge of them only from the characters of others; if he be commonly honest, and commonly in earnest, his own heart must have afforded him some

of his best lessons. Where indeed can we, any of us, learn so truly the strength of temptation, and man's weakness; where can we so well have understood the dangers of youth, and the dangers of manhood, as by studying our own souls, and dwelling upon the records of our own experience? And if it be thought that we cannot dare to preach against faults of which we may be conscious ourselves, and that, therefore, we must be thinking only of our neighbours,—he who so judges, judges either most hardly of human weakness, or most unworthily of the Christian minister's office. Most hardly of human weakness, if he expects the knowledge and consciousness of sin to be the same thing as the victory over it; most unworthily of the Christian minister's office, if he thinks, that, in this place, the weakest may not speak with something of his Master's power; and, however in himself insufficient, that he may not have gained ample sufficiency for Christ's sake, to speak Christ's message.

And now I may resume my proper subject, and proceed to the full consideration of the first of the three lessons which Christ's conduct, as described in the text, affords us ;-the lesson of zeal in the discharge of our daily duties. "For there were many coming and going, and they had no leisure so much as to eat."

There are some dispositions, which, from absolute indolence, seem to be zealous about nothing whatever; -persons who appear neither to care about business or pleasure, who cannot be roused to take an active interest in any thing. These are characters which exist, and which we must all have sometimes met

with; but they are not common, neither are they very dangerous, because the general feeling of men is apt to despise them as stupid and insensible. A much more common case is that of persons who like some things exceedingly, and are all alive when they happen to be engaged in them; but who do not like their common employment, and display about that no interest at all. This is a very common case, for it rarely happens that our employment is the very one which we should most choose,-or the one which we most choose at this particular time, or under these particular circumstances. And yet if it be not, even although we may not dislike it in itself, we may dislike it in comparison with what we like better;—and this for all the purposes of destroying our interest in it is nearly the same thing as if we disliked it in itself. For instance, we all know that the expectation of any great pleasure is apt to unsettle our minds: although our work may commonly interest us tolerably, yet now, with this prospect before us, it seems dull and tiresome ;— we regard it merely as a burden, and grudge every hour that we give to it. So then, it seems that we must all expect to have our work often disagreeable to us, and that in many cases it is always disagreeable :-disagreeable I mean by nature, and speaking according to common notions. But to say that a man can do heartily what is disagreeable to him, is to talk of impossibilities; he can no more do it than he can have an appetite for nauseous food: he will attend to what he dislikes no more than he can help; and, so far from following it up so earnestly as to allow himself no leisure so much as to eat, he will