still a son, and would have been a son, had he been a thousandfold more prodigal than he was. This tie was never broken, this relationship never was dissolved; and, therefore I feel it to be my duty as well as my joy to say, to him who has erred most, to him who in his consciousness of guilt trembles at the thought of God, to him who in his madness curses God's name-yes, and to him who in his blindness denies God's existence-My friend, you have a Father in heaven, who loves you.

Looking at the parable from a merely secular point of view, and for a moment losing sight of its deeper meaning, it reminds us of the danger which often arises from the fact that a young man has a father, or other friend, who can and will give him pecuniary help. This youth says to his father, "Father, give me the portion of goods that falleth to me." Of course he thought himself a very lucky fellow-far better off than those poor drudges who have to toil and moil for weekly wages, and who with the utmost difficulty manage to make both ends meet. And it certainly is for some men a most fortunate circumstance that their fathers, uncles, or other relations have contrived to make money, for, if left to their own resources, they would come upon the parish very soon. But in many cases the fact that a young man has large expectations, that he has his father's reputation for wealth to draw upon, and ultimately a share of that wealth, is his ruin. Perhaps if the foolish lad in the parable had been a poor man's son, brought up to hard work, he would have behaved himself decently; but his good luck was his bad luck—his advantages became his disadvantages-the portion of goods proved a

snare to him, enabled him to enter upon that expensive career of vice which at last plunged him into such misery and disgrace. If, then, you have no such prospects, no hope whatever of obtaining a farthing from your father, don't let this in the least depress you; probably enough it is all for your good. Thrown entirely upon your own resources, knowing that only by your own hands and brains you can escape the poor-house, you will feel that labor is a necessity, and you will be kept out of a thousand temptations to which the heir to great possessions is exposed. You will never be tempted to entertain the unnatural wish for your father's death; you will not, like some, observe with horrid satisfaction the symptoms of his approaching end. You will learn to be an independent, hard working, self-reliant man; your talents and energies will be called out into constant exercise, and will wax stronger with every effort; you will find that the sweetest bread is the bread which a man eats in the sweat of his face; and you will have the proud satisfaction of knowing that you have, by dint of manly and courageous work, made your own way in the world. Many of us have great reason to rejoice that we never could say with the prodigal, "Father, give me the portion of goods that falleth to me," simply because, beyond a good example, and a fair schooling, our fathers had nothing to give us. But he who gives his son these gives him enough, unless indeed that son be a cripple, either in body or in mind. Cripples, of course, need more than these; men do not. While this request of the prodigal, viewed in a secular light, reminds us that a large inheritance may be no great advantage, that

what is easily got is often soon spent ; viewed in another light, it represents men's impatience of the restraints of God's government, and their desire to do just as they please with all the bounties of God's providence. That prodigal thought that life in his father's house was too slow, too strict, too quiet, too sober-just as many think that the life of morality and religion is tedious, flat, insipid, because it does not afford the gratification of their animal passions, but requires them to keep these passions all in check, and under severe and constant control.

Well, the father did what this foolish son asked him to do. You may ask why the father acted so unwisely, so unkindly, as to entrust a large sum of money to a lad so viciously inclined. Now, you must remember that Jesus spoke to Jews, and spoke in accordance to their customs; and I believe it was the law that the father should accede to such a demand as this, and give the son his portion when he asked for it, after coming of age; I question whether the father could have legally refused to give this prodigal his portion. You may say, truly enough, that a wise and kind father, perceiving that such a son was likely to waste the money, would have been most unwilling to let him have it, would, at the most, have doled it out very sparingly, given him so much a week, just enough to live upon; but if the law gave the son power to demand his share, then, of course, the conduct of the father, in this case, cannot be blamed, and need not excite any surprise. And, moreover, the conduct of the father represents God's method of dealing with men, represents this very important truth, that God

treats us as free agents, as responsible beings; that He does not forcibly prevent our sinning against Him, does does not raise such a barrier as would render our wandering from Him impossible; and if men could not do wrong, there would be nothing virtuous in doing right. A dumb man tells no lies, a man who can neither read nor write does not commit forgery, and a man who is bed-ridden does not attempt' burglary; but such absti nence from crime as arises simply from inability to perpetrate it, has nothing of the nature of virtue. Here we are in a state of probation, and therefore we must have freedom of will, must be in a position to do what is right or what is wrong according to our own determination. And so God gives us "the portion of goods" which, according to the arrangements of His providence, falls to us; He gives to all of us a measure of bodily health and strength, and a measure of intelligence; He gives to some of us great powers and opportunities of doing good or evil, and first telling us how we ought to act, what we ought to do with this "portion of goods,' He then leaves us to our own responsibility, at the same time promising to guide and to help us in doing the thing that is right, if we will have His guidance and His help.

This fast young man was in such a hurry to be off, that, "not many days after" receiving his property, he "gathered all together," melted everything into money, "took his journey into a far country, and there wasted his substance with riotous living." He thought it such jolly thing to get away from all restraint, to be his own master, and, like many other young fools, supposed

that his money would procure no end of enjoyment, and would last for ever. There are many youths who are obliged to leave their father's house, and take a journey into a far country; many who come from far to this great town, in order to push their way in the world, and if possible, make their fortune; and of these, not a few, like the prodigal, forget the moral training they have received, the religious instruction to which they used to listen, the good habits in which they were brought up, and knowing that they are no longer subject to parental inspection and control, waste their substance, their time, their money, and their health in riotous living. The parable, in this respect, is an exact description of thousands of young men, who have left their homes and been thrown into the temptations of city life. The prodigal was peculiarly exposed to temptation; because he had money, he could for a time afford to be idle; and when the devil finds a man idle, he always finds him something to do. No one ever applies for a job at his shop, without obtaining immediate employment adapted to his ability and disposition. The devil never says, We are full just at present, call again-and the devil never gives any man the sack. The prodigal had money; far better for him had it been if he had entered that far country without a cent, with nothing but his hands and his brains; but he had money, and therefore he would immediately be surrounded by more hardened and experienced rakes, all professing to admire him, all professing to feel honored with his acquaintance, and all eager to share in the spoil-" Wheresoever the carcase is, there will the vultures be gathered together." Let it only be