mands or allows them. Shall we be beaten in the battle in which they conquered? Why should we? Did they find it easy? Did they think it a pleasant thing to renounce the devil and all his works, and constantly to obey God's commandments? Indeed not. S. Paul (and I hope he knew how Saints feel,) found it so extremely hard, that he cried out, "Oh wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" So I come again to what that General said: "Soldiers, we must never be beat, or what will they say?"-they, our best, true friends, our own friends, our own countrymen, our own Saints. Or if you would rather hear the words of an Apostle than of a General: "wherefore, seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, looking unto JESUS, the Author and Finisher of our Faith."

I read you the text, because I was thinking of the glory of our own Church. "How goodly are thy tents, O Jacob! and thy tabernacles, O Israel!" This place, this college is one of those tents. It is goodly in itself. It was set up for God's glory; it was intended to help forward His Church: and whatever hindrances or drawbacks there are to this, the fault is in ourselves. Neither this, nor any other help can force you to be saved, whether you will or not. A man may go to hell from a College as easily as if had never heard the Name of CHRIST; nay, and a great deal more easily because "to whomsoever much is given, of him shall much be required." But yet this Church to which we belong, does what she can to save her children. If you could see what at this time she is doing; how many new churches are being built; how many places for the

poor, and sick, and sinful; how many persons, women more especially, are giving themselves up altogether to the service of God, to teach the ignorant, to nurse the feeble, to go into dens of wickedness, and fight the Devil on his own ground; if you could see how weak helpless women go into infamous streets and alleys, where the police only venture in a good strong party; if you could know these things, then, I think, you would be ready to say, "How goodly are thy tents, O Jacob! and thy tabernacles, O Israel!" I will tell you what has been done to-day, what is, perhaps, going on at this moment. There is a large meeting in London, where the Archbishop of Canterbury is in the chair, for sending out four new Bishops into the dark places of the earth. One of them, more especially, is to go to a country of which you all know something. You have all heard of the Gold diggings in Australia. Well,-there, where men seem to forget that they came into this world for any other purpose than to heap up money,-where they are wholly given to idolatry, not of images, but of gold, -a Bishop will go forth, to proclaim to them, "What shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?"-to tell them of that true Wisdom, of which Job says, "The gold and the crystal cannot equal it, and the exchange of it shall not be for jewels of fine gold. No mention shall be made of coral and of pearls, for the price of Wisdom is above rubies."

But all this is of no use to you, all this can be no pleasure to you unless you, each in your part and according to your power, fight the same battle with the Devil, in which the whole Church is engaged. The Church fighting with Satan: there is no doubt which will conquer then. "Upon this rock will I build My

Church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it." But you fighting with Satan,-there, there is every doubt. Nay, if that were all, there would be no doubt at all. Who are you that you should be able to resist the Prince of the power of this world! Why, the list S. Paul gives us of his armies is very dreadful: "We contend against"-what?" principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places." Yes; but I can tell you for your comfort, that none that ever lived, no Saints, no Martyrs, could ever have conquered him in their own strength; and I can also tell you for your comfort, that CHRIST, Who helped them, is as ready to help you, and then, "If God be for you, who can be against you?"

And if He does help you, then there is another and a very blessed sense in which the text may be used, when He shall call you, after doing His will here, to enter into His Paradise hereafter, then indeed you may say, "How goodly are thy tents, O Jacob! and thy tabernacles, O Israel!" Yet there, indeed, they will not be tents, pitched to-day, taken up to-morrow; they will be a city which abideth, whose Builder and Maker is God; they will be that New Jerusalem, "whose light is like to a stone most precious, even like a jasper stone, clear as crystal," whose twelve foundations are twelve precious stones, whose twelve gates are each a several pearl. God grant that we all may some day hear these words, may some day say, "I was glad when they said unto me, We will go into the House of the LORD."

And now to GOD the FATHER, GOD the Son, and GOD the HOLY GHOST, be all honour and glory for ever. Amen.

SERMON XXXVIII.

THE DEATH OF A GREAT MAN.

9. Edmund, King and Martyr. November 20.

"AND THE KING SAID TO HIS SERVANTS, KNOW YE NOT THAT THERE IS A PRINCE AND A GREAT MAN FALLEN THIS DAY IN ISRAEL ?" -2 SAM. III. 38.

LAST Thursday, as you all know, the people of England gave such a funeral as has perhaps never been seen before, to their greatest General. You have heard, or read, how for three long miles the streets of London were lined with a crowd that could not be counted; how soldiers, and music, and princes, and chiefs, and mighty men went before the coffin; how the coffin itself, drawn by twelve black horses, rolled on in a brazen carriage, hung with the flags and banners that this great General had won for himself, or that had been given to him by kings as the reward of his bravery; how with the sound of trumpets and drums the procession passed along to S. Paul's; how there, after ashes had been committed to ashes, and dust to dust, a herald proclaimed the titles, the many titles of the Duke of Wellington; and then all was over. To-day the coffin lies in the cold,

gloomy vault of S. Paul's; there are no guards to watch it there; there are no flags to wave above it now. The worm is spread over it, and the worms cover it. The one question to the great Duke now is, not how many battles he won,-not how many banners he obtained,— but whether he died in grace or out of grace; whether, as we may piously hope, he will find mercy of the LORD in that day.

The HOLY GHOST tells us that "the fashion of this world passeth away." We can hardly ever have a greater proof of this than that which we have now had. All those crowds that two days ago blocked up the streets of London, are gone; the scaffoldings and the hangings are taken down; the whole pomp has passed away like a tale that is told; another week, and people will begin to be tired of the subject: "the fashion of this world passeth away."

A thousand years hence, if the world lasts so long, who do you suppose will care that, on the 18th of November, 1852, they buried the Duke of Wellington with all the honours and glories of this world? Will any Priest then gather his people together, and tell them of the Duke and his doings? Most surely not.

And now see the difference. Nearly a thousand years ago there reigned a King in England, by name Edmund. His kingdom, which was Norfolk and Suffolk, was attacked by the Danes, at that time a cruel heathen nation. His own army was too weak to resist. He was not a great general; he felt that he could not conquer after the manner of warriors. He dispersed his soldiers, and resolved to conquer in another manner, namely, that of Martyrs. He was taken, and carried before the Danish king, by name Hinguar. Hinguar