watch to hail the coming of their precious Redeemer. His promised return "was the resting-place of their hopes, the strength of their souls, the very life of their joy. They allowed no object to intervene between them and their Lord's appearing; they were ever waiting and looking for it, as if all between it and them were a dreary, rugged waste. As, in a night of clouds, when no small tempest lies upon his vessel, the seaman's eye is ever on the outlook for the star of morning, so were their anxious eyes, amid tribulation and darkness, ever watching for the appearing of the bright and Morning Star."* For this they also had every warrant in Scripture, and so put themselves in that attitude of constant expectancy which this parable clearly sets forth as the characteristic attitude of the Church wherever she is properly herself.

This parable, further, teaches us the necessity of being continually at work to be ready, and warns us of the perils of being one moment off our guard, and most solemnly admonishes us never to be content short of the highest possible sanctification and Christian attainment. Even the best will be more or less surprised, and put into great commotion to be ready, when the time comes. "And if the righteous scarcely be saved, where shall the ungodly and the sinner appear?" (1 Pet. iv. 18.)

Ho, then, ye foolish virgins and careless souls, be admonished, and provide now, while the doors of

* Prophetic Landmarks, by H. Bonar, D.D., p. 68.

mercy and grace are open to you! Bestir you with all diligence, and be wise; lest that day come upon you unawares! Watch and pray; for you know not how soon your Lord may come!

And, finally, this parable should teach us not to be alarmed and distressed, but to be glad and hopeful, as the evidences multiply around us that the coming of the Lord draws near. As Christians, set to be and to do all we can for ourselves and that Redeemer who has bought us with his blood, his return was never meant to be a terror to us, but a joy and the essence of our gladdest hope. That day is to be our happiest day,—the day when all present woes and disabilities shall cease,—the day of release from servitude and toil,-the day of return from exile and privation,—the day of triumph and everlasting jubilee,—the day when our Savior will take us to himself, to be with him and like him forever.

Some of you, perhaps, have met with an account of a little incident* (whether true or false, it matters not) connected with the rescue of the English at Lucknow, in India, by the arrival, at the very crisis of their fate, of the noble Havelock, whose fall the whole world has mourned. The defences of the place were undermined, and ready to be forced by the infuriated natives. A remorseless A remorseless enemy had gathered on every side. The exhausted garrison was on the point of sinking under the toils and anxieties of the protracted defence; and death, in its most

* Related by Edward Everett in his Lecture on Charity.

dreadful forms, was staring the inmates in the face. The women had borne their full part in the labors and dangers of resisting the fierce assault, tending the wounded and sick, conveying orders to the batteries, and supplying the men at the guns with the needed refreshments, night and day. On what was at the time believed to be the morning of the last day the enfeebled garrison could possibly hold out, the wife of a superior officer had gone to the lines, to render such aid as she could, accompanied by a young woman whom the excitement of the siege had thrown into a fever under which her mind often wandered. Overcome with sickness and fatigue, the young woman threw herself upon the ground, and fell asleep with her head upon the knees of her comrade, praying, in her delirium, to be awakened when her father should come home from the ploughing. It was not long till both were asleep, in spite of the roar of cannons and the noise of battle. Presently there was a shriek: the young woman sprang to her feet, her arms raised, and her head bent forward. in the posture of intensest listening. A look of wild delight broke over her countenance: she grasped the lady's hand, and drew her to her side, exclaiming, in frantic joy, "Dinna ye hear it? dinna ye hear it? I'm na dreaming. It's the slogan o' the Highlanders. We are saved! we are saved!" And it was even so. Help had come, and the sufferers were rescued.

That beleaguered city is a type of the Church of God. For eighteen dreary centuries has she been

weighed down with the sore anxieties, labors, privations, watchings, and perils of battle with error, with sin, with hoary and savage superstition, with the relentless powers of unbelief, depraved passion, and fierce persecution. In every age has the blood of her champions been made to flow, and the lives of thousands of her children been sacrificed, in defence of her towers, her bulwarks, and her palaces. Never a victory was gained, but the warfare was renewed in other forms, the struggle made more desperate, and the foe more subtle and more fierce. Day after day for all the period of her history have her fears and perils and privations increased, and the enemy drawn closer and closer upon her intrenchments, whilst her children grew faint and fevered and delirious, and leaned upon each other in their helplessness, dreary, exhausted, and ready to die. From the crucifixion of her Lord till now, has she been drinking of the bitter waters of affliction, sharing with him the woes of the cross, and crying without intermission under the weight of oppressions and sufferings from which none within her lines could deliver her. To this moment we hear the shoutings of her enemies that her batteries are growing feeble, that her strength is rapidly failing, that her foundations are being undermined, and that soon she will be at the mercy of her foes. Even some who once stood up bravely for her have thrown down their arms and given up their exertions, believing that further attempts are but useless. Sick

and distracted, some of the most loving and untiring have prostrated themselves upon the earth, and fallen asleep in their faintness and delirium caused by the perilous strife. And darker and darker shall grow the prospect, and still sterner and sterner the conflict, until the last hope is ready to be crushed out before the gigantic strength of the last earthly embodiment of hell and death. But just when the extremity is greatest and stout hearts are ready to give up for lost, there shall be a shriek, and, with it, a starting up of the faint ones from their long prostration, and a mysterious bending forward, and listening, and straining of ears, to sounds which not every one can hear, and strange, wild, but joyous transformations of the anxious listeners, and a thrilling grasping of hands, and shouting of one to another, "Do you not hear it? Do you not hear it? It's no dream.-It's the tramp of new armies from the highlands of home.-It's the palm-bearing Hero, with his invincible hosts. It's the Captain of salvation, approaching for the rescue.-It's the Samson of deliverance, hewing down our foes.-It's the Lord in his power, come at last as he promised. -WE ARE SAVED! WE ARE SAVED! WE ARE SAVED!"

And, in hope of participation in the joyous redemption of that blest day, I here close these comments upon the parable of the ten virgins, commending you who have listened to them, to God and to the power of his grace, praying that what I have said