travagant and revolting, whilst they regard others with aversion and horror, the very nature of which they do not pretend to understand, and of the foundations of which they are utterly ignorant. Little children, on the contrary, are commonly distinguished by the utmost candour and teachableness of disposition. They love truth for its own sake, and receive it gladly and gratefully. In their case, it has no formidable array of preconceived and pre-established opinions to encounter, when presented to the mind, but takes amicable and undisturbed possession of the intellectual citadel. Of what unspeakable importance would it be to society, were the human mind in every instance equally well prepared for its reception. A generation of such minds, uniting the vigour and maturity of manhood with the simplicity and candour of infancy, might prove sufficient to rescue the religion of Jesus from all its remaining corruptions, and place it at length in a situation for exercising an almost irresistible influence over the hearts and lives of men.

Thirdly, it were well for all Christians to endeavour to acquire a nearer resemblance to little children, in their freedom from all unreasonable attachment to the wealth, honours, and pleasures of the world. How extensive the injury

which a too exclusive desire of advancing our temporal interests has done, and is every day doing, to the cause of truth and virtue! What shameful sacrifices of conscience and character are daily offered up at the shrine of fashion! How frequently do men suffer the cares of this world, and the deceitfulness of riches, to choke the word, so that it becometh unfruitful! What a beautiful contrast to the worldly spirit, so prevalent in society, is presented by the minds of children. With them, all is innocent cheerfulness and gaiety. Their hearts are not yet overlaid by that crust of selfishness so frequently found to form during a lengthened intercourse with the world. Their finest feelings have not yet been entombed; nor have their noblest and most generous sympathies been condemned to perpetual banishment, to make room for the sordid aims of covetousness or ambition. Compare, but for an instant, the smooth brow and blooming cheek of childhood with the careworn countenance of him whose years have been devoted to the acquisition of rank or fortune, or with the premature decrepitude of the worn-out votary of pleasure, and say whether the happy indifference of infancy may not, to a considerable extent, be imitated with advantage.

There is one other quality of mind observable

in little children, which we must not omit to notice as deserving of our imitation. They are free from the influence of vicious habits. Their minds are not yet infected by the taint of sin. They have not yet acquired an artificial insensibility to the voice of conscience, or sunk into that degrading state, in which evil is mistaken for good, and good for evil. Who, that is not a total stranger to that generous enthusiasm, those ardent aspirations after a purer and more perfect virtue, which Christianity is so well calculated to create and cherish, will deny that their condition in this respect is a most desirable one? How few, alas, are there who, as they approach the termination of a long and busy life, can look back upon the purity and innocence of childhood, with other feelings than those of regret and shame!

Let us, then, my fellow-Christians, as we value our temporal happiness and our eternal interests, be careful to imitate the interesting examples of humility, candour, simplicity, and purity, which our divinely-inspired teacher has here presented to us, remembering, that of such is the kingdom of heaven; that they who thus resemble little children are the most likely to receive, in all its purity and power, the truth as it is in Jesus; and having thus come into the

kingdom of the Messiah, and continued, during this mortal life, true and faithful subjects of it, to become prepared for finally inheriting all the glory and happiness of the kingdom of God above.

SERMON XXVII.

THE MYSTERIOUSNESS OF THE DIVINE

DISPENSATIONS.

JOHN Xiii., 7.

What I do, thou knowest not now; but thou shalt know hereafter.

THESE are the words of Christ, addressed to the apostle Peter on his hesitating to allow the performance for him, by his master, of that menial office, which our Lord intended to serve at once as an affecting testimony of his unabated attachment to his followers, and an impressive lesson to them on the propriety of practising humility and condescension in their intercourse with each other. They contain an appeal to the apostle's confidence in the wisdom and discretion of his master. "What I do, thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter." You may not, it is true, perceive at this moment the precise object I have in view in this apparent compromise of my dignity, but you shall soon be made acquainted with it. Meanwhile, I have surely a right to expect that your previous knowledge of my character will be a sufficient