at all answer the purpose intended by its application. Well, just as unlike other men, unregenerate men, the men of the world, are Christians-as unlike as are light and the world, or salt and the earth. But some may say, this is figurative language. What if it is? Figures mean something. They mean as much as literal phraseology. And the meaning of figures is as easily gained as that of any other kind of language But St. John speaks on this subject without a figure, and he employs one of the strongest and most striking expressions I have ever read. To many ears it does not sound at all charitable. He says, speaking in the name of Christians, "We know that we are of God, and the whole world lieth in wickedness," or, to translate the original more literally, and to make the contrast still more striking, in the wicked one. This is his account of the difference Christians are of

between Christians and others. God. All other men are in the wicked one. Nor is it wonderful that Christians are so very different from others, when we consider that they become such by being created anew in Christ Jesus. Such a work of God upon them must needs make them very unlike those who are not the subjects of it. Creation makes a vast difference in things. The first creation did. The second does als The new creature differs widely from the mere creature. The Christian is eminently distinguished from the man. Christians are exhorted not to be conformed to the

world. It would seem impossible that real Christians should be conformed to it. It would appear to be as contrary to their nature to be conformed to the world, as for light to resemble darkness, or salt any insipid or corrupt substance.

But the world say they do not see the mighty difference between Christians and other men. Perhaps it is because they do not look at the right persons. It is no wonder they do not see a mighty difference between some professors of religion and the rest of mankind, for no such difference exists. It is not to be seen. It is not every professor that is a true Christian. There are some that pass for Christians, of whom it may be said that the light which is in them is darkness. Such are not the lights of the world. They need themselves illumination more than any others, for the darkness which is in them is great. Again, there are those in whom, according to the case supposed by our Savior, the salt has lost its savor its saline quality. Yes, there are insipid Christians. That such should not manifest the difference which exists between real Christians and others, is surely not to be wondered at. These differ from others rather in being worse than better than they. What is so worthless as salt which has lost its savor? It is thenceforth good for nothing, but To be cast out, and to be trodden under foot of men." Just so it is with graceless professors of religion. They serve no good turn, but many an ill one.

But some are not entirely without the saline principle; yet have it in great weakness. They are, if I may so speak, only a little brackish with it. Let such give diligence to grow in grace. And let us all see to it that we have salt in ourselves, that we may be in this respect also what Christ says his disciples are, "the salt of the earth."

43. The Distance of Death

How far from any human being is death? This is not equivalent to asking when he will actually die. That may not be for years to come. But all that. time how far off is death from him? Not far-only a step. "There is but a step between me and-death." Death is always at just the same distance from every man, though all do not die at the same time, and some live to a much greater age than others. Death is as contiguous to childhood and youth, as it is to manhood and old age. Facts are every day proving it. From no subject of human life, and from no point or period of it, is death ever at a greater distance than may be measured by a step. David said what I have quoted, of himself. It is just as true of all men, unless some are protected, as Hezekiah was, by a promise of God that he should live a number of years.

David said it in a moment of panic. He might have said it in his calmest hour. It is no piece of extravagance. It is a sober reality. It is plain matter of fhet, that all we who live, live at precisely this little distance from death, and no more. David said it in view of a particular danger. But there are a thou

sand dangers besetting every man, any one of which could justify the language. We sometimes seem to be nearer death than at other times; and we are actually sometimes nearer dying. Every hour brings us nearer dying, but not nearer death, for that is never but "a step" off. That is always close at our side-our companion through life. The whole course of life is in the closest proximity to death. We are not merely tending towards a brink, over which ultimately we are to plunge, but we are all the time traveling on that brink. We are not journeying towards a precipice which may be more or less distant from us, but our whole way winds along the frightful edge of the precipice. Our danger does not commence just before we actually ule, but it attends us all the of life. It is true, some escape it for a long time, but there is not a point in the path which has not been so dangerous as to prove fatal to some travelers.

way

It is this, if I mistake not, which makes our condition here so fearful-this perpetual insecurity-this ever-present and imminent peril. It is not the certainty of the fact in regard to death that is so very

appaling to the soul. It is the uncertainty of the time It is not that ultimately we must die, but that presently we may. It is the thought of being necessarily always so near that great evil-always immediately adjacent to the judgment—always close upon the confines of eternity, and always within a little of our everlasting abode--the journey from every point of our path so short-a single stage, a single step! Now here; anon there-this hour with men; the next with God-to-day only candidates for immortality; to-morrow its incumbents-to-day on trial for eternity; to-morrow tried, and the case decided irreversibly and forever-on earth to-day; to-morrow in heaven or in hell-nor yet the interval always so great as a day. I do not think the fearfulness of man's condition in view of these considerations is capable of being exaggerated. No language can overstate it. If the change awaiting us were gradually brought about, it would not be so fearful. If one by one the mysterious ligaments of life were sundered, and one by one the objects of earth faded from our view, and the novelties of eternity were slowly and separately unfolded to our vision; if the summons of death designated a distant day for our appearing at the bar of God, and our way thither was long and difficult, dying would not constitute so formidable a prospect as now it does. But the fact

is, the change is as sudden as it is great. The familiar scenes of the one world all vanish at once, and