is not consistent with any hesitations, and knows not how to enter into arguments. The man who really and sincerely makes up his mind to serve God and to turn from his sins, does it on the spot; his language is not, I think I will do it, or I will try to do it, but I will do it; there shall not be a moment lost in my solemn self-dedication to God. I will write myself the Lord's, and subscribe with my hand to the name of the God of Jacob. There are some who have supposed that there can be something like too much haste on a subject of this kind. The great enemy of your salvation whispers to you, do not be in a hurry, take time, it is an important matter, and at all events deliberation can do no harm. Brethren, the fallacy of this may be made apparent by the plainest illustration. Suppose that in the middle of the night, waked by the cry of fire, you should get up and look out at your window, and find it in the house adjoining. You would dress yourselves even then in haste, and in haste you would endeavour to secure your valuables, but you would take such time as might be afforded to arrange the most prudent measures the nature of the case demanded. But suppose, waked by the cry of fire, you find it in your room; nay, in the curtains of your bed, and you feel the dense smoke in your laboured respiration and the heat upon your face; would you stop to deliberate? The impulse of nature would be to escape, and leave all else but life to be made the matter of after consideration. And so it is with you, careless and impenitent sinners. Ruin is before and behind you, and on either side your souls are in danger of the ruin of an eternal death; they should be your first concern; there is no reason why you should deliberate; there is no time to deliberate;

a day or an hour may launch you into eternity, or may be the season of the withdrawment of God's Spirit. It is therefore folly and madness to cry, time enough, time enough. No, my friends, God requires the decision when the demand is presented, and in no case where there is saving conviction about to be followed by saving conversion, in no case is the period of actual turning to God delayed-"I will arise and go to my father;" and he did arise, and on this depended his salvation. Had he deliberated, he might have been lost. This, believe me, is no subject on which to deliberate; deliberation presupposes something for which, and against which, there may be reasons worthy of comparison. Salvation is obviously no subject of this kind; it is the positive danger of eternal death which you have to avoid; there are no arguments against this, no reasons why you should not at once place your souls beyond the peril. The truly converted sinner does what the prodigal did; he actually carries out the purpose of his mind, and then alone is he safe. And when he does this, there are songs in heaven from that same host whom the Saviour spoke of when he says-"There is joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth." I want resolutions from you, brethren, but I want resolutions carried into action. It is not merely the mental determination, but the purpose carried out, which is essential. I desire that every unconverted sinner, in the presence of God this morning, should resolve to take up the language of the prodigal, and here, in this house of God, mentally come to the determination expressed in the language-"I will arise and to my Father;" and I want all who do so, when they go from this Church, to go directly to their offend

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ed Father in secret, and there, on the bended knee of deepest humiliation, say in truth and sincerity— Father, I have sinned against heaven and before thee;" and then let every one go out into the family and be a new man; and let his first act be to tell his wife and children that he has this day determined to serve God, and then let him invite them to join with him in prayer, and at once let him thus take up the cross and follow Christ; thus at once show that he is not ashamed of Christ; and thus at once give himself to God in the "bonds of an everlasting covenant." And if it is a wife or child who shall thus be determined, let the same be done, so far as the differing circumstances of the case will allow. And if this day this should be done by one or by more, be it a husband or wife, or son or daughter, I tell you a livelier melody and a more cheering song would be sung in heaven than there yet has been, though the angels of God have often rejoiced over sinners in this house born to glory.

There was one more topic, and with its discussion this series terminates, viz:

III. The characteristics of God's great mercy.

You cannot fail to observe, that our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, represents the character of God in the paternal relation; and if there can be any thing more exquisitely touching in imagination or reality, than the characteristics of a father's love, as used by him in this interesting parable, I have failed to find it in any author with whom I am acquainted. The characteristics of God's great mercy and compassion are represented in six aspects, as naturally growing out of the exquisite illustration of the paternal relation.

1. The father saw him a great way off. 2. He had compassion. 3. He ran to meet him. 4. He kissed him. 5. He would hardly listen to his self-reproaches. And, 6. He highly honoured him.

1. "The father saw him a great way off." How exquisitely true to nature! From the very time the prodigal had gone off, the father loved to take his walks on that side of the house where lay the road his son had taken. As he went he had viewed him, till growing more and more dim in the distance, he lost sight of his form; and never, since that day, had he failed to look ́along that road, in the hope, even against hope, that he might see the same form, distant and dim, but yet easily discerned by a father's eye. And day after day he took that accustomed walk, and day after day he was disappointed. But at length, while looking out with an anxious eye, he saw something in the dim distance which could never have been distinguished but by the quick instinctive perception of parental fondness. "Though he appears changed, it must be him; he walks slowly, and his eyes are downcast; and oh! how mean his apparel! but it is him; I know him, how can I be mistaken? I feel that it is him, my long lost son."

It would be impious, my brethren, to ascribe to God all the peculiarities which combine to form the feeling called paternal affection. Our Lord uses the well-known affection of a Father, as a mere exquisite illustration of the love of God to sinners; and all that he means to be understood by the part of the illustration I am now considering, is, that God sees the very first approaches of the truly penitent; he wishes, earnestly desires, that all should turn; and when a sinner does turn, God does not wait for information;

he reads the inmost intention of the thoughts, and he sees, no matter how far off the wanderer might be, he sees the first motion of return: and it is encouragement to penitent sinners to know that the Saviour of the world represents the Father of the spirits of all, as watching, anxiously, perseveringly watching, for the sinner's return. Oh, how many times is the same thing said-" As I live, saith the Lord, I have no pleasure in the death of the sinner." "Return unto me, and I will return unto you. Oh that thou hadst known, even in this thy day, the things which belong to thy peace.'

2. One step further: The father of the prodigal had compassion on him. There is, in this parable of our Saviour, wonderful precision of description. Compassion is a feeling exercised towards one who is in distress, let the cause of that distress be what it may. Had the son left his paternal home on some errand of his father; had he gone to a distance, and in the midst of dangers; had he gone in the discharge of some duty appertaining to himself, his father would have watched for his return with intense anxiety, and when he saw him approaching from a distance, he would have been delighted, and his affection would have flowed out in tender expressions, and perhaps in tears; but every one perceives at once that compassion would not have been the feeling. This young man had gone off in a state of reckless unconcern; he had wasted his substance; he had been reduced to penury and want, and he came back in rags and squalid poverty, and with a downcast and dejected look. And then it was compassion that grew up in the bosom of the father; it is the feeling which associates itself with wretchedness.