Bible Commentaries

Chapter74

Prayer

Almighty God, thy house is full of light. There is morning in the tabernacles of the Most High—cloudless morning—dewy morning. Here our souls listen to music from above, and here our hearts are quieted with a holy peace. There is no house like thine; it is the soul's great home; there is enough to feed us in our hunger and to quench our hearts" burning thirst. Here we have all things. We have all things here in Christ. This is the place of unveiling, so that we see almost the Invisible. Our souls are touched with high amazement as they look out into the shining beyond. We see across the river. We behold pinnacles glittering in the light of a higher sun. In the wind we catch tones of other voices, known, yet unknown, the old voices with new power, the old friends risen into nobler stature. We see heaven opened; we see the connecting ladder; we see the descending and climbing angels, and we know of a truth that thy creation is large—yea, to our imagining, infinite. The heaven, and the heaven of heavens, cannot contain thee; but thou wilt rest in the broken heart. Thou dost affright us sometimes, but only to comfort us with tenderer consolations. When thy judgments are abroad, men look towards the heavens who never looked in that direction in the time of bountiful harvest and quiet winds. When thou dost shake the rod of thy lightning over the heads of the people, they are quiet, they are dumb. Thou dost now and again show us our littleness and our helplessness; thou dost drive us before the furious storm, and we cry for rest. We bless thee for such chastening; it brings us to our knees; it lays us low in the lowest dust, and makes us hope for a protection we have so often disbelieved. Then thou dost comfort us in Christ thy Son with tender mercy, thou dost draw us near to thy heart. Thy love is the greater because of the tempest; the sky is bluer because of the infinite gloom which made it frown. Thou dost lift us up, gather us to thyself, fold us within the almightiness of thy love, and then send us forth again to do our work in Christ our Saviour, with renewed power, and with rekindled love. We bless thee that the storm has left us alive. But a handful of hours ago, and there was no spirit in us; but thy sanctuary was at hand; we saw its gates ajar; we yearned for their full opening that we might enter in and feel the sweet security of home. Thou wast a sanctuary in the tempest and a pavilion in the wilderness of desolation. Thou canst find honey among the rocks, and thou knowest where the wine and the oil and the milk abound, when in our hearts there is no hope. We will love thee more, thou Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. We will always come to thee by the only way. We will not fret ourselves into vexation, and sting ourselves with cruel disappointment by seeking to climb the heavens by a way of our own. We will come to the cross; we will follow the path made red by blood; we will look up through the wounded Son of God and find the reconciled Father. Thus will we come, and as we come the way widens, the road brightens, the whole pathway is crowded with joyous companionships, and great and abundant is the entrance which thou dost grant to those who come by the appointed way. Our sins, which are many, thou canst with a word forgive; our disease, which is vital, thou canst with a smile heal for ever more; our helplessness, which is complete, thou canst turn into enduring strength by the blessing of thy right hand. Thou knowest us wholly. Blessed be God, thine eye searches into all things. Thou knowest our frame, thou rememberest that we are dust; thou art pitiful to us; thou dost apportion the burden according to the strength. Make our houses glad with new lights every day. Surprise us by new brightnesses of the old sun. Show us some new writing amid the flowers with which we are most familiar; and as for the odours which we love, send amongst them the fragrance of the better land. Rock the cradle, and the little one will sleep well. Make our bed, and we shall forget our affliction in slumber. Fasten our door, and we shall be left without anxiety. Spread our table. Find for us a staff. Comfort us in the dreary time, and bring us, life's journey through, pilgrims glad to be at home, welcomed by old comrades and by angels now unknown. Then may our education begin in the higher light, and in the wider spaces. May our worship be then profounder, truer, tenderer; and remembering the little earth and its temporary tents, its transient joys and symbolic pleasures, may we thank God for all the little happinesses of the road, and find them in their infinite fruition in the heavens of thy light and peace. We say our prayer upon our knees; we put out our hands and clasp the sacred Cross; we know that we have not a moment to wait, for whilst we are yet speaking thine answer is in our hearts. Amen.

Acts 20:1-6

1. And after the uproar had ceased, Paul having sent for the disciples and exhorted them, took leave of them, and departed [according to his previous determination Acts 19:21] for to go into Macedonia.

2. And when he had gone through those parts, and had given them much exhortation, he came into Greece [ Acts 19:21, "Achaia," i.e, Corinth.

3. And when he had spent three months there, and a plot was laid against him by the Jews, as he was about to set sail for Syria [see Acts 19:21], he determined to return [to Asia] through Macedonia.

4. And there accompanied him as far as Asia Sopater [perhaps the Sosipater of Romans 16:21] of Berea, the son of Pyrrhus; and of the Thessalonians, Aristarchus, and Secundus; and Gaius of Derbe, and Timothy; and of Asia, Tychicus [see Ephesians 6:21; Colossians 4:7; 2 Timothy 4:12; Titus 3:12], and Trophimus [ Acts 21:29; 2 Timothy 4:20].

5. But these had gone before, and were waiting for us at Troas.

6. And we sailed away from Philippi [ Acts 16:40, Luke was left behind here] after the days of unleavened bread, and came unto them to Troas in five days; where we tarried seven days.

Reading Between the Lines

There does not seem to be much in this section of the Apostolic history. It is one of the sections which any lecturer would gladly omit with a view of finding something more exciting and pathetic in richer pastures. We must not, however, judge by appearances. Paul is still here, and wherever Paul is there is much of thought and action. The personality is the guarantee. Wherever you find the great man you find the great worker. Even amongst this commonplace there seems to be something unusual. Paul does nothing like any other man. Look at the variety of personal movement: Paul "embraces" the disciples—a word which hides in it the pathos of a farewell salutation. It was not a mere good-bye; there was in it no hint of meeting again on the morrow. Whatever might happen in the way of reunion would happen as a surprise, and would not come up as the fulfilment of a pledge. Paul will often now say "Farewell." He is not quite the man he was when we first made his acquaintance. Sometimes he straightens himself up into the old dignity and force, and we say, "Surely he will last many a long year yet"; but in this narrative he crouches a good deal; he sits down more than has been his wont; he is tortured with a dumb discontent. I see age creeping upon his face, and taking out of his figure and mien the youth which we once recognized.

Having "embraced" the disciples, he "departed to go into Macedonia." We like to go back to old places. We cannot account for this longing just to see old battlefields, the marks of old footprints. We like to see that the old flag is still flying—yea, we, strange as it may appear, like to steal away to the green grave to see if it is still there. Paul will go back to Thessalonica, to Berea—the city of readers—to Philippi, where he was lacerated and thrust into the innermost prison. Who can tell what happened in those repeated visits? At first, when we go to a place, there is nothing to speak about but that which is common to all other places; but having worked there, having made our signature there, when we return we talk over old themes as if we were discoursing upon ancient history, and we quote old sayings and ask for old friends with a tender familiarity, with a questioning that has a doubtful tone in it, lest we may be treading upon sacred ground, and lest we may be asking for the living who have been long numbered with the dead. Before asking such questions we look as if we would read the answer before we put the inquiry. We listen, if haply we may hear some word that will guide us as to the manner of our interrogation, lest by one inquiry we should rip up old wounds and tear open the deepest graves of the heart. These are the things that make life sacred and precious; these are the influences that quiet us with religious dignity, and that make life no longer a little fussy game, but a sad, pathetic, yet noble, mystery.

When Paul had gone over the old parts "he came into Greece, and there abode three months." Some say that perhaps he did look into Athens a second time. It is not a matter of certain history, but, being in Greece, it is just possible that the Apostle looked in upon Athens once more. It was the city in which he had met with the most stubborn indifference that had ever hindered his mission. Certainly he went to Corinth, but Corinth was changed. The decree which made many exiles had been annulled, and Aquila and Priscilla, the tent-makers, the old companions, the teachers of Apollos, were no longer there. The friends are the town; the firesides are the city; the old walls are there; the old churches, the old towers; but, if the old friends are not there, we are mocked by mouldering masonry. Humanity lives in itself; man looks for man—not any 2 Corinthians 2:12-13 : "Furthermore, when I came to Troas to preach Christ's gospel, and a door was opened unto me of the Lord, I had no rest in my spirit, because I found not Titus my brother." That is the same spirit we found at Athens; he soon fell into restlessness. Read 2 Corinthians 1:8 : "For we would not, brethren, have you ignorant of our trouble which came to us in Asia, that we were pressed out of measure, above strength, insomuch that we despaired even of life." I thank God for those words and for that trouble. It brings Paul down amongst us; it shows that Paul was bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh. Read 2 Corinthians 12:7 : "And lest I should be exalted above measure through the abundance of the Acts 20:7-12

Points In Paul's Preaching

This was the close of a ministry. Is there anything in human relationship more pathetic than the conclusion of a spiritual intercourse and fellowship? So many things may happen to prevent to taking up of the scattered threads, and the weaving of them into a complete fabric. Then there is no substitute for a deeply and intensely spiritual influence. Everything beside is a child's toy offered to a man's ambition; all other things fall not only into insignificance, but into positive contempt. To be lifted clear up above the cloud and fog, and to be set for a few shining hours high in heaven's own quietness, and to hear voices not to be heard upon the earth's surface, and to be caught in thrilling prayer which tells the soul itself what it wanted to say but could not, and which by that sacred mystery turns prayer itself into an answer—what can replace that infinite quantity? Thus we live in personal ministries. We chide ourselves and others chide us for doing Acts 20:13-19

13. But we, going before to the ship, set sail for Assos, there intending to take in Paul [twenty miles by land, much farther by sea on account of the Cape Lectum]: for so had he appointed, intending himself to go by land [G, "to walk it"].

14. And when he met us at Assos we took him in, and came to Mitylene [capital of the island Sestos].

15. And sailing from thence, we came the following day [in their coasting voyages the ancients sought out a safe anchorage for each night] over against Chios; and the next day we touched at Samos; and the day after we came to Miletus [twenty miles by land, south of Ephesus].

16. For Paul had determined to sail past Ephesus, that he might not have to spend time in Asia, for he was hastening, if it were possible for him, to be at Jerusalem the day of Pentecost.

17. And from Miletus he sent to Ephesus, and called to him the elders of the church.

18. And when they were come to him he said unto them [Paul's Pastoral Mirror], Ye yourselves know from the first day that I set foot in Asia after what manner I was with you all the time.

19. Serving the Lord with all lowliness of mind, and with tears and with trials which befell me by the plots of the Jews.

Analysis of Service

Luke and his companions "went before to. ship, and sailed unto Assos, there intending to take in Paul." All these arrangements were under Paul's own hand; he was not minister only, but leader, inspirer, and servant as well. He was as deeply interested in the detail as if he had nothing else to attend to. He himself would walk to Assos alone. He would take the twenty miles" walk and make a religious exercise of the journey. He went along the magnificent Roman road, sheltered by the great oak forests that grew by its side. And he wanted no human companion; all the angels would walk with him; Jesus himself would draw near. There are times when human companionship becomes a burden, when we must be left alone, not always to sit, for then the mind has not full swing, but to walk; and walking is an appointed means and help of intellectual and spiritual study. The mind treasures its riches. Locomotion helps the processes of thought; locomotion alone—the city, with its din, miles away; the work yet to be done lying far ahead. The soul feels that in silence there is a sanctuary, and that in solitude there is tender companionship. Do we walk alone? Do we go out, as the prophet was commanded to go, into the field that God may talk with us awhile? Do we "meditate in the field at the eventide"?—the tired day taking its rest, the battle lulling and halting awhile, the very air calmed down into a religious hush, as if expecting some new tone from heaven. In imagination, figure Paul walking his twenty miles down to the ship, not tired of his companions, or loving them one whit the less, but conscious of a yearning after quietness—yea, even silence, and after the solitude which of necessity means prayer.

Paul came, and joined the ship, and passed on with his companions. He came in due time to Miletus. From that point he might have seen the white palaces of Ephesus; and he might have been tempted to go back to the old battle-field. Therein he knew his great weakness. It was never safe to show Paul the marks of an old controversy, unless he had ample time to return to the situation and complete the purpose of the sacred fray. A trait of his character reveals itself in this comparatively trivial incident. "Paul had determined to sail by Ephesus... for he hasted, if it were possible for him, to be at Jerusalem the day of Pentecost." He had a vow to discharge, or an obligation to pay, or some hidden purpose to carry out, and therefore he felt safest on board ship. Yet he could not pass by wholly; so here the master-mind comes out again, even in this little arrangement of matters, for "Paul sent from Miletus to Ephesus, and called the elders of the Church," who came some thirty miles to see their great teacher and bishop. He must have a few words with them just at that time, not new words, but old words spoken in new tones. We can never hope to preach a new Gospel, but we can always preach the old Gospel in a new accent; we can always drop upon it a tear that never was shed before; we can always say it with the unction of additional experience, or with the emphasis of the added confidence which comes of steadfast continuance and faithfulness in Gospel doctrine and service. It is not enough to say the Gospel has been once preached, and there is an end of it. There may be an end of the mere words, or mere form in which the truth is expressed, but there can be no end of the revelation which is made to the speaker's own heart, or to the inspiration which enables him to clothe the most familiar expressions with the witchery of a new elocution taught by the Spirit of the living God On this ground the Gospel will never cease to be preached. There may be those who, looking only at forms, say, "We have heard that before." So much the worse for you if you have not obeyed it, and that is a criticism that you can never pass if your heart be in a right state before God. But every man has his own tone, has his own tears, has his own weird, or sharp, or telling, or soothing voice, and emphasis. So the Gospel is the same and not the same—the same with a diversity; unchangeable, yet, as a matter of practical application, changing with all the varying phases of daily pilgrimage, and taking upon itself the newness of the present necessity.

Paul is about to make his greatest speech. Intellectually he may have stood head and shoulders above his present mental stature as he stands before the elders of Ephesus. He is not going to be intellectual now; his heart is going to speak. Some people have failed to find a heart in Paul, and have found nothing but heart in John. Did Acts 20:20-23

20. How that I shrank not from declaring unto you anything that was profitable [cause of above tears and trials], and teaching you publicly and from house to house,

21. Testifying both to Jews, and to Greeks, repentance toward God, and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ.

22. And now, behold, I go bound in the Spirit unto Jerusalem, not knowing the things that shall befall me there:

23. Save that the Holy Ghost testifieth unto me in every city [ Acts 13:2; Acts 21:4-11], saying that bonds and afflictions abide me.

The Man and the Doctrine

Paul considered his hearers; he acted as a wise physician; so far as was possible he studied each individual case and gave to each a portion of meat in due season. There are great public utterances to be made, and there are private interpretations, or secret comforts, or individual messages to be attended to. Paul considered the hearer: he seemed to say about every one, "What does this particular man most need? what is his peculiar temperament? what are his peculiar temptations? I must study every man as if he were the only Acts 20:24-26

24. But I hold not my life of any account as dear unto myself [G, omits "as"; lit, "I make no account of my life (qua) dear unto myself." This awkward sentence appears more so in the original text, and there are grounds for supposing words to have been omitted. The Evangelist probably wrote, "Neither make I account of anything, nor think my life dear unto myself"], so that I may accomplish my course, and the ministry which I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify the Gospel of the grace of God.

25. And now, behold, I know that ye all, among whom I went about preaching the kingdom, shall see my face no more.

26. Wherefore I testify unto you this day, that I am pure from the blood of all men.

Paul's Acceptance of Discipline

Referring to the20th verse, we find the employment of a very significant illustration: "I kept back nothing that was profitable unto you." The illustration implied in these terms, "kept back," is a nautical one. Paul had been sailing; he had watched the manner of the ship; he had seen the uses to which the sails and the tackling had been put, and in this expression he said, in the language which he employed, "I have put on all sail; I have given the ship the advantage of everything belonging to it; I have spared nothing, night or day; the sails have been spread, and the supreme endeavour of the captain has been to bring the ship to the desired haven." This was what Paul had done in his ministry. A little more sail, or all the sail together. Why put it out?—for display? No: the sails were not made for display, but for the assistance of navigation. Therefore whatever Paul did he did with the view of bringing the ship to port; he had no other object. He spared no strength; he counted no time ill-spent that was devoted to the interests and the security of the passengers committed to his charge.

Now we come to the22nd verse: "And now, behold, I go bound in the Spirit unto Jerusalem, not knowing the things that shall befall me there: save that the Holy Ghost witnesseth in every city, saying that bonds and afflictions abide me." He knew the greater, but did not know the less: he knew the solemn total; he did not know the items which constituted its great sum. That is the method of God's providence. He often shows us the end without showing the process; He is accustomed to speak to us in great words that need to be taken to pieces and searched into, and it will be found, in pursuing that quest devoutly, how wondrous much God can pile into one word. The word is only one, yet when it is taken to pieces, so to say, every letter becomes a Acts 20:27-29

27. For I shrank not from declaring unto you the whole counsel of God.

28. Take heed unto yourselves, and to all the flock, in the which the Holy Ghost hath made you bishops [denotes the official function of these elders. Had the word been translated shepherds, the sequence of thought with the following verb, etc, would have been obvious to the English reader], to feed the church of God, which he purchased with his own blood [Paul's previous thought of his own death in connection with the ministry explains the unparalleled intensity of his language].

29. I know that after my departing grievous wolves shall enter in among you, not sparing the flock.

What Paul Leaves Behind

We have just been moved with deepest emotion on hearing Paul say that we shall see his face no more. The question then arises. Since Paul is going, what will be left? When the Apostle goes, will not the whole fabric which he seemed to represent and sustain go along with him? Is Christianity the heroism of one personality? Is it a thing which belongs to the individual, like his incommunicable genius of mind, so that when he dies it will die with him? If Paul's estimation of himself had been that of an idolater or of a superstitious person, he would have reminded the Ephesian elders that in the removal of his personality they had themselves no longer any official standing, or any claim upon public attention. We may learn something about the man's faith—that is to say, about his doctrine, his theology, his outward and heavenward look—by studying his spirit in relation to the things that were round about him. By an almost infinite subtlety of thought he indicates his apostolic primacy amongst men. He could be lowly-minded, and he could put on his crown and show that no diadem was so radiant as the one which sparkled on his head. He could say that he was not meet to be called an apostle; he could also say that he was not a whit behind the very chiefest of the apostles. On this occasion he shows his greatness, yet his modesty; the almost supreme importance of his personal ministry, and yet the absolute independence of God of any man's service. He does not talk of himself as of a little Acts 20:30-38

30. And from among your own selves shall men arise, speaking perverse things, to draw away the disciples after them.

31. Wherefore watch ye [another pastoral term], remembering that by the space of three years I ceased not to admonish every one night [ Acts 20:9, ff.; the figure of the wakeful shepherd still maintained] and day with tears [ 2 Corinthians 2:4; 2 Corinthians 11:29. Note the special pastoral care of "each one"].

32. And now I commend you to God, and to the word of his grace, which is able to build you up, and to give you the inheritance among all them that are sanctified [G. "give you an allotment amid all the sanctified"].

33. I coveted no man's silver, or gold, or apparel [for reason see Acts 20:35].

34. Ye yourselves know that these hands ministered unto my necessities, and to them that were with me.

35. In all things I gave you an example, how that so labouring ye ought to help the weak [in faith], and to remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how he himself said, It is more blessed to give than to receive.

36. And when he had thus spoken, he kneeled down and prayed with them all.

37. And they all wept sore, and fell on Paul's neck and kissed him,

38. Sorrowing most of all for the word which he had spoken, that they should behold his face no more. And they brought him on his way unto the ship.

The Character In the Charge

Having this charge put into our hands to form a judgment of the speaker, what inferences regarding him and his work would be drawn? Do not let the mind travel beyond the four corners of this one particular charge. The evidence is before you; looking carefully at it, in all its aspects and relations, what opinion would you form respecting the man who delivered this particular speech to the elders of the Church at Ephesus? Evidently, in the first instance, here is a man over whom the spiritual has infinitely greater influence than the material. This man concerns himself burningly, and with passionateness and fanaticism, respecting things that are not of the earth and of time. He seems to see presences which are not patent to the eyes of the body. He is evidently ruled by considerations which are not limited by time and space. He speaks a strange language; he is more a ghost than a man. What is his meaning? Right or wrong, his meaning is intense; right or wrong, the subject which engages him burns in him like an inextinguishable fire. He is a fanatic, or an enthusiast; he is carried away by some spiritual extravagance. He speaks as a man might speak who is bound to an altar, and to whom the sacrificial fire was about to be applied. Surely he is operating under the influence of the wildest hallucination. But it is no hallucination to his mind; it has shape, features, expression, tone, colour, life; it is a Figure that puts out a more than human hand, and takes his hand lovingly in its almighty grasp. The speaker of this charge—be he whom he may—is full of it. He evidently believes that instincts are more divine than formal logic. He clearly believes that there is something in man that cannot be covered, fed, satisfied by anything that grows on earth or shines in the sky; call it feeling, imagination, passion, spirituality, divinity, it is something with an aching necessity that scorns the proffered aliment of time, and asks if there be no better food in all the spaces of the universe. The man is clearly superstitious, of a highly excitable temperament, quite a fanatic, wholly beside himself, not at all practical; a man—if we may so figure him—rather with great strong pinions with which to fly, than with strong and sturdy feet with which to walk the solid earth. Still he means it all. These are not artificial tones; there is what we know by the name of soul in them. We may pity the hallucination, but we must admire the earnestness. We may look on bewildered even to stupefaction as we gaze upon a noble soul following shadows, and chasing bubbles, and crying to eery ghosts to help him in life's long travail. Still he is a noble soul. If he were less intense, we should despise him, or at least distrust him; but he is so whole-hearted that our pity is elevated by our admiration. Be he whom he may, and what in other respects he may, he is, on the face of this speech, an honest man.

Looking further into his unique and energetic eloquence, it is evident that this man counts his life as of less value than his work. "Neither count I my life dear unto myself, so that I might finish my course with joy." That is a new standard of valuation; that is a new mint and stamping of old words and venerable tradition. This man has so worked that his "course"—his "ministry"—has become to him a greater quantity than his very life. We may outlive ourselves; our work is our greater self; our ministry is our immortality. If the Church could learn this lesson, the Church would know the mystery of crucifixion with Christ. The Church would get rid of the idea that godliness is bound up with opinion and dogma only, and would pass into the glorious ecstasy which counts all things loss that Christ may be won. We speak of our lives being dearer than anything cur lives can contain. We reason superficially and sophistically; when we come to a right view of things we shall see that to do our duty bravely is a greater thing than to live many days upon the earth; to suffer heroically is the true solution of life's holy mystery. This man will turn failure into success. When he has given up his life, all other gifts become easy; when he has given himself, all he has is contained in the complete and sacrificial donation. Christ gave himself, and we must present ourselves "living sacrifices." This man grows more fanatical. He has risen to the point at which life itself is despised as compared with what he superstitiously calls his "ministry," or fatalistically calls his "course." A ghostly power called destiny has got hold of him, and wrought in him a sublime contempt for all bribes, flatteries, and earthward allurements. He has gone from the tribe of practical men; he is the victim of a spiritual extravaganza. Poor soul! We would have detained him in our company if we could, but such passion would have burned down the walls of our prison; such sacrifice would have turned our cold prayers into blasphemies; such heroism would have made our little efforts contemptible in our own eyes. So he has gone to live an ideal life in ideal spaces. Peace be with his soul!

But a third view of the speech leads us to inquire whether, in thus regarding Paul as a superstitious and fanatical man, we are not in error. Reading single lines of the speech, we feel that Paul is insane, in the sense of being unduly transported with what he believes to be spiritual realities; but reading the speech from end to end, he is really a man of wondrous mental grasp. It is a noble speech; it is a statesman's eloquence. This man is no fanatic; he has power to walk upon the solid earth, and he looks well as he does so; there is no crouch in his royal gait. He is most tender, shepherdly, careful, practical. He does not want to have his work frayed away or overturned by the cruel strength of the enemy; he would have his work stand for ages; he speaks like a man who has been building from eternity. No honest reader can despise the intellectual force of the man who made the speech which is now our text. Read it through from the beginning to the end, and hear its solemn music; mark its massive strength; note its comprehensive grasp, and be quieted by its sublime repose. When we hear some men speak, we feel how rash a thing it would be to contradict them. They are not men likely to be misled by sophisms; they are not made of the material which easily yields to new experiments; they have a solid look; they are men one would like to consult upon practical questions; their very presence and manner of dealing with things would lead one to wish that in all the crises of life we could have them near to suggest, inspire, and strengthen. Reading this speech of Paul, such are my personal feelings regarding him. He is not a little man; he is no trifler. You may differ with him, but the very necessity of differing with him will involve you in a tremendous controversy. It is not a mere difference, a verbal diversity of judgment; it is root-and-branch work; you are either with him wholly or away from him entirely, and that very fact establishes by collateral and incidental evidence the greatness of the man, the multitudinousness of the elements which make up his great personality.

So we begin to modify the first judgment we formed as to Paul's fanaticism. He gradually comes nearer to us, and we feel that if we have mistaken his stature, our mistake was due to the distance which separated us from him. What appears to be a little speck in the far-away cloud may prove in reality to be a royal eagle, when the flight is over and the noble adventurer has returned from the gates of the sun.

Looking again at the charge, we cannot but see that what began in the sublimest theology concludes in the noblest beneficence. "So labouring ye ought to support the weak, and to remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how he said, It is more blessed to give than to receive." We thought he was a fanatic; he now stands before us as the advocate of the poor, and the defender of those who have no helper. This is the complete orb of religious character: theology mounting to the very throne of God, beneficence stooping to the very lowest of the needy creatures amongst whom we live. The theology that is not sphered off by morality, beneficence, sacrifice, is a sublime lie. Now, our first impression about the man's passionate fanaticism is wholly corrected, and we apologize to him for having for one moment thought that he was lost in spiritual ecstasies. Only men who are capable of such theological excitement are capable of lifelong and life-sacrificing beneficence. The charity that is not lighted at the fires of heaven will be blown out by the winds of earth. For a time it may seem to be beautiful, but, being without root, in the necessity and divinity of things it cannot live. Characterize it by what figure you may, whatever is not fixed in God cannot live as long as God.

So perusing the charge in its wholeness and unity, I bow before the great Apostle as before the noblest of his kind—the very prince of the Church; the supreme man amongst mortals; the favoured one who saw more of heaven's light and more of heaven's magnitude than any other man. We may well weep with the elders of the Church; we may well kiss our great teacher with our heart's lips, for there are no farewells so tearing, so destructive, as the farewells of the soul. Other farewells may be made up, other vacancies can be supplied; but who can represent the man who has loved our souls, held fellowship with our spirits, spoken more tenderly than he supposes himself to our very inmost life, and who has stood for us when we ourselves were dumb, as advocate and intercessor before God, in the name of the Saviour of the world? There are no endearments so tender as the endearment created by religious understanding and sympathy. All other unions perish, all other associations are but for the passing moment; immortality, true kindred, absolute identity of spirit, thought, purpose, can be found in Christ alone.

We do not know our apostles until they tell us we shall see their faces no more. How kind of them to give us work to do which lies nearest to our hands! Paul did not conclude with some thunder-burst of theological eloquence which might have been variously interpreted, but he concluded with these words which a child can understand—which only God himself can fully illustrate—which the Cross alone entirely exemplifies—"It is more blessed to give than to receive."