inmates. For there would be no more hope for us, without the blood of Christ, than for them; and the bare sight of such an example could be of no more avail for us, than it would be for a shipwrecked mariner, left alone and struggling all night long, in mid-ocean, to behold, with clearest vision, the unclouded sun rising out of the horizon, and flaming over the sea. If indeed he could take the beams of the sun for his chariot, if he could lay hold upon those shafts of morning rays, that fall upon him only to light up his misery, and reveal more clearly his hopeless, irremediable ruin, then indeed might the glory be to him, not a vision of despair merely, but a medium of salvation.

John.-Well, and just such a power, just such a medium, is Christ's dying love, if a sinking sinner will but gaze upon him dying, will but look and live.

Peter.-Yea, even so. And now suppose that as the orb of day blazes over the waste of waters, and the eye of the sinking, despairing, dying, shipwrecked man takes in at once both the glory of the scene, and the extent and certainty of his own ruin, the rays of light assume a power and form within him, enter into his soul, irradiate and envelope his frame, play upon his shoulders as wings, and give him a feeling and capacity of such conscious energy and impulse, that gazing earnestly and intently upon the rising light, he finds its pinions unfolding from his body, bearing him up above the deep into which he was plunging, and giving him the disposition and the power to soar like an Albatross, and fly to some hospitable shore of safety! You will say that this would be a miracle; and yet, even this would be but an image of that change by the grace of a dying Saviour, when the guilty, perishing soul beholds him with a believing heart; a faint image of that investiture of glory and of power, with which every despairing, dying sinner is clothed, the moment the Sun of righteousness rises on the soul; that mighty transformation into the capacity of imitating Christ, and that participation in the reality of his own holiness, which takes place with every guilty soul, the moment it will but look to Christ with humble faith, casting all on him.

Then the chains drop off, then the powers and impos

sibilities of a selfish and inveterate depravity are conquered, then Christ himself begins to be formed within the soul the hope of glory, then it rises from the depths of guilt, ruin, and despair, then it tries its pinions, and finds them, in humble dependence on the Saviour, bearing it up above the waves, soaring away with it towards holiness, and heaven, and everlasting glory. This is dying love, this is the power of the sight by faith of a suffering, bleeding, dying Christ, the sight of the Saviour's blood; this is redeeming grace and glory. And this is just the experience of every guilty soul that flies to Jesus.

For God has breathed upon a worm,

And given me from above

Wings such as clothe an angel's form,
The wings of joy and love.

Well, answered John, after silently musing a few moments, You have taken a high flight in your thoughts, this time, almost out of the reckoning of many a sailor, at least in the trim and spread of your canvas; but it is all true. There is nothing that can be said about the love of Christ to dying sinners, that reaches a hundred-thousandth part of the way to the beginning of its greatness. And, therefore, great and godly Paul, when he sets forth, by the Spirit, the steps of this flight, this flying ladder up to glory, up to the unsearchable riches of Christ, begins with praying, That we may be strengthened with might by His Spirit in the inner man, that Christ may dwell in our hearts by faith.1 There's the wings! Christ in us the hope of glory. Christ formed within us, That we, being rooted and grounded in love, might be able to comprehend with all saints what is the length, and breadth, and depth, and height, and to know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge, that we might be filled with all the fulness of God! There's the wings! And, oh, how wonderful, how glorious! There, too, is the amazing flight, passing all knowledge, and never ended, till it is lost in all the fulness of God, and still again 3 Eph. iii, 18, 19.

Eph. iii, 17.

2

Col. i, 27.

never ended, but on, on, on, from height to height, from depth to depth, from glory to glory, to all eternity!

That ancient Singer, whose heart had music in it, and whose songs have cheered many a Seaman on his course for the Celestial Country, had a view of this glory, when ho said so sweetly,

I'll praise my Maker with my breath;
And when my voice is lost in death,

Praise shall employ my nobler powers:
My days of praise shall ne'er be past,
While life, and thought, and being last,
Or immortality endures.

CHAPTER XV.

PRAYER, PROVIDENCE, AND FAITH

THE morning after this talk, it was blowing heavily. During the night the change had come, for though the weather was still clear, and not one speck of cloud to be seen, and the stars shining intensely bright through the deep, unfathomable blue, yet the wind had come with fury, none could tell where from, and now had got to a gale, and the sea was high, and the ship uneasy. Some of the men had been busy aloft during the night, shortening sail; for the day before, and at sunset, all sail had been crowded, the wind and weather being so perfectly fair and prosperous. In the morning, just as they had finished clewing up and securing the fore and main-top gallant sails, all on a sudden a startling report was heard, like the firing of cannon, and the fore-topsail split bodily, whereupon the men lay out upon the yard, and had hard work reefing. They had scarcely got through with this, when the main-royal blew loose from the rigging with another explosion, and flapped and banged like the wings of a demon, as if it would tear the mast out of the ship's centre. Here was a double piece of work, and not without danger; and all hands sprung aloft to get in the royal, and send down the yard. But the wind blew so furiously, that it almost held the men fast bolted to the spars and rigging, and they had the greatest difficulty to secure their work.

So they drove on for a while, still under a good press of

sail, considering the fury of the elements, and perhaps too rashly, had they continued it, though Peter and John were not afraid of the wind, so long as they could hold on safely, and keep the ship quick answering to her helm. However, the order soon came, Let fly the topsail halyards! Haul upon the clew-lines! and the men, as quick almost as the words, lay aloft, and got upon the yards, while the ship lay at such an angle in the water, that it seemed as if they would be buried in the deep.

But while this was going on, one of the foot-ropes gave way, where the men were reefing, and one of them, who just at that moment had no hold on the reefing point or lifeline, fell sheer over headlong into the raging sea. But by a gracious providence, before ever the shout could be raised, A man overboard! Peter saw him as he fell, and with a sudden and almost incredible dexterity, cast forth the end of a coil of strong rope, called Grace-to-Help-in-Time-of-Need,1 in such a direction, that before the ship had shot ahead too far, the man succeeded in catching it, and getting a turn round his body, or otherwise it seemed as if he must certainly have been lost. But the rope held, and the man clung to it, though half drowned, and in a moment he was drawn on board, thanking God for such a merciful preservation.

Now when the wind abated, and they talked over this matter, they could not help remarking on the good providence of the man's fall happening by daylight, when Peter could see him; for if it had been at night, and no help instantly at hand, he could not have been saved, with the ship driving so swiftly. It made all the men feel anew their dependence on God, and the importance of being prepared, every moment, for any thing that might happen; for a sailor's life is so exposed to danger and death, that he needs to have all made tight for a better world, and to live in unceasing faith and prayer. And whether he is reefing sail in a storm, or dog-watching in fair weather, or what not, he ought to be keeping his mind anchored according to that great rule of Paul, by the Spirit: In every thing by prayer and supplication,

1 Heb. iv, 16.