and his heart fainting, and his flesh failing with the last lingering rays of the glory he had left behind him.

A lost stray sheep that has wandered from the fold rarely if ever retraces its steps. A stray dog finds his way back to his kennel, but a stray sheep spends its strength in wandering farther away till it is dashed to pieces on the rocks, or drowned in the swollen floods, or devoured by the wolf.

Man, a fugitive from God, fallen and astray, of himself never returns. He sinks deeper, and travels farther, as water rushes downward, till, if untouched by grace and unattracted by heavenly love, he sinks into endless misery and woe.

But the parable tells us that the Good Shepherd goes after the lost sheep, and perseveres in the gracious pursuit until He finds it. Jesus finds the sinner, not the sinner finds Him. Jesus goes after the sinner, not the sinner after Him. Grace begins on earth what glory consummates in heaven. It is ever so. It may be by the words of a faithful and affectionate preacher, or by a passage of the Holy Word brought home by the Holy Ghost to the conscience, or by some great affliction, that washes off the human heart the thick incrustation of passion, and prejudice, and delusion, that Christ wakens up the sinner to a sense of danger, or manifests Himself a Saviour to the sinner's soul, or speaks in words of penetrating and persuasive force to the burdened conscience, and the will is reversed, and obstinacy is overcome, and guilty, and stricken, and penitent he submits to let Christ do to him, and for him, and with him what He pleases. The merciful and compassionate Saviour lays the desponding sinner on his heart as a shepherd lays a poor, weary, footsore sheep upon his shoulder, and carries him home. He is the finisher and author. He begins and ends the victory, reserving to Himself all the glory, and bestowing on the sinner saved all the good,

One would imagine that a poor, ragged, and wretched sinner, rescued from the ruin in which he had involved himself, and restored

to all the holiness and happiness he had alike forsaken and forfeited, is too trivial an incident to be noticed beyond the limited circle in which it occurs. But it is not so. This event is not trivial where all events are weighed in the scales of the sanctuary and seen in pure light. It reaches the very chancel of the universe, it is announced to the myriads of the redeemed, it is thought worthy to be proclaimed in glory. And so important is it felt to be there, that cherubim and seraphim rejoice with a new joy, and strike their golden harps, and send waves of jubilant music over an area no line can measure and during ages no years exhaust.

The Lost Coin.

Luke xv. 8-10.

But,

WOMAN, not very rich, has ten pieces of silver. because of her poverty, the loss of one is felt by her to be a grievous loss. Having mislaid or dropped one and unable to find it, she resolves that if it remain unrecovered it shall be no fault of hers. She, therefore, lights a candle, sweeps the house, and searches diligently, and at last finds it. The recovery was so precious in her estimation that she invited her neighbours to share her joy, telling them, "Rejoice with me, for I have found the piece which I had lost."

The sinner was once a coin on which the bright image and superscription of God were visible. Both were partially or wholly effaced, and dimmed by the deposit of mildew and rust. It was finally lost, and ceased to hold its place in the currency of heaven.

The dust and débris of the world covered it. It no longer answered the great purpose for which it came forth from the mint in which it was originally struck. The Divine owner of the riches of the universe might have left it and issued coins of far greater value, bearing in more impressive relief his imperishable image. But his ways are not our ways, and his thoughts are not our thoughts. He pitied and resolved to rescue. He would rather regenerate than He, therefore, lighted the candle of the Lord-the lamp from off the everlasting throne-and with it, shedding down its pure and holy rays, He set out to seek the lost.

create.

The language is but the lantern. Inspired and everlasting truth is the light. His servants carry this light, at his command, into every land, across every sea-into the midnight of Africa-into the jungles and pagodas, and across the burning sands of India-up the Zambesi, the Nile, the Ganges, and over the sea-lakes of the vast continent of America. It already shines with increasing lustre from the palm groves of the east to the pine forests of the north. It sends its rays through the casements of lowly and poor cottages, in obscure hamlets, or on the edge of primeval forests, and into the oriel windows of royal palaces and noble halls, revealing everywhere man defaced, debased, dying, lost, and God everywhere offering the helping hand and speaking the tender and forgiving word, and pointing to the Sun of Righteousness, under whose wings is healing, hope, and heaven.

Nor is this all. He sweeps off every concealing element, dust, and dirt, and self-righteousness, and vainglory, and the thick clay of this world's riches, and the deceptive and disguising honours of this world's high places that intercept the beams of day. Whatever resists the penetrating rays of light, or hides the lost soul from the entrance of awakening truth, or blinds the eyes and veils the heart from the light that carries life in its splendour, He sweeps away. The concealing covering by which the soul is hidden may be purpie