- With regard to the disciples, it shews us their weakness and depravity. They fled, from fear; but their fear was needless-for he had stipulated for their safety, when he surrendered himself in the Garden: "If, therefore, ye seek me, let these go their way; that the saying might be fulfilled, Of them which Thou hast given me, I have lost none." They were under great obligations to him. He had done much for them, in calling them by his grace, and dignifying them with the Apostleship. And he was now going to bleed and die for them. And they had professed a great attachment to him: for when Peter said, Though I should die with thee, I will not deny thee: so said all the disciples-yet they all forsook him, and fled! Lord, what is man!

Yet this culpable cowardice was overruled for good. For their very declension made their witness, after his resurrection, the more unexceptionably credible; and the weakness of their faith is the strengthening of ours. They were not persons of hasty belief. They had doubted, and, for the time, abandoned the cause, saying, "We trusted it had been he which should have redeemed Israel:" and were repairing to their former home and callings. What could have rallied them, and brought them back, and inspired them with courage to go forth, and bear reproach, and persecution, and death, in his Name, but a conviction that nothing could resist?

With regard to the Saviour, this was a part, and a very trying part of his abasement and passion. A friend is born for adversity. Then his presence, his sympathy, his countenance, is peculiarly desirable and necessary. Common humanity says, To him that is afflicted, pity should be shewed of his friendBut he looked for some to take pity, and there was none, and for comforter, and he found none. These men had been three years with him-they could have borne witness to his freedom from sedition; his innocency; his piety. They could have cheered him

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by their standing at his side; and their determination to suffer with him. But one betrayed him; another denied him; and all forsook him, and fled. Behold, and see, if ever there was sorrow like unto his sorrow! -And he foresaw, and foretold this: "Behold, the hour cometh, and is now come, that ye shall be scattered every man to his own, and shall leave me alone." This enhanced his anguish. He suffered in the apprehension, as well as in the reality. But it also enhanced his love. He was not drawn into any part of his suffering by ignorance, or surprise-he knew all-all was before him-but he turned not his back.

With regard to ourselves, it may teach us not to sink, or wonder, if we should be deserted by those from whom we had reason to look for better things. Did not one tell David, "Behold, Ahithophel is among the conspirators with Absalom!" And did not he groan-"It was not an enemy that reproached me; then I could have borne it: neither was it he that hated me that did magnify himself against me; then I would have hid myself from him. But it was thou, a man mine equal, my guide, and mine acquaintance. We took sweet counsel together, and walked unto the House of God in company?" Did not Job complain-" My brethren have dealt deceitfully as a brook, and as the stream of brooks they pass away; which are blackish by reason of the ice, and wherein the snow is hid: what time they wax warm, they vanish; when it is hot, they are consumed out of their place?" Did not Paul say-" At my first answer, no man stood by me, but all men forsook me-I pray God that it may not be laid to their charge?" Above all, consider the Lord Jesus, "lest ye be wearied and and faint in your minds." Is the servant above the master? or the disciple above his Lord?

APRIL 16.-"I will not leave you comfortless; I will come to you." John xiv. 18.

THESE tender words are part of our Saviour's farewell address to his disciples, immediately after the Holy Supper.

We see in them his kindness. These disciples had shewn many defects, and had very little improved any of their advantages; but loving his own who were in the world, he loved them unto the end. They were now going to prove themselves very unworthy and he foresaw, and foretold, what, according to their present views and feelings, seemed perfectly incredible to themselves-that they would all forsake him in the hour of trial, notwithstanding their obligations, and professions. They were going to leave him comfortless, as far as it depended upon them; and to induce him to complain-"I looked for some to take pity, and there was none, and for comforter, and I found none." But-much as they deserved it-"I will not," says he, " leave you comfortless." "I will-not to punish, or upbraid, but to relieve, and encourage-I will come to you."

Here, also, we perceive his greatness. When we are going away from our connexions to some distant place, we may speak of our return; but it must be conditionally. We are not sure of the event-it does not depend upon us; and we ought always to say "If the Lord will, we shall live, and do this, or that." But when we die, we know our return is impossible; and our friends know it, and weep most of all that they will see our faces no more. The dying pastor cannot say to his anxious flock, I will not leave you comfortless; I will come to you, and again feed you with the Bread of Life. The dying father cannot say to his family, mourning around his bed, I will come again and provide for you. One of the most touching circumstances in

the beautiful lines of Cowper, on his mother's picture, is the delusion employed to comfort him—

"Thy maidens, griev'd themselves at my concern,
"Oft gave me promise of thy quick return:
"What ardently I wish'd, I long believ'd,
"And disappointed still, was still deceiv'd.
"By disappointment ev'ry day beguil'd,
"Dupe of to-morrow even from a child-
"Thus many a sad to-morrow came, and went,
""Till, all my stock of infant sorrow spent,
"I learn'd, at last, submission to my lot;

"But, though I less deplor'd thee, ne'er forgot."

And-the same lesson we must all learn, with regard to every dear delight we here enjoy. The departing Joseph said unto his brethren, "I die; and God will surely visit you." He does not say, I will visit youhe knew he was going the way whence he could not return. But Divinity here speaks, as well as friendship. "I will not leave you comfortless; I will come to you." This is the language, not only of foreknowledge, but of sovereign dominion: the language of one who had the keys of hell, and of death: of one who said, No man taketh my life from me; I lay it down of myself-I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it again. Even death would not interrupt his goodness; nor his entering another world affect his intercourse with his people in this. His presence with them was not confined to his bodily residence. While on earth, he said, "The Son of man, who is in heaven." And now, though in heaven, he is no less on earth. Lo! said he, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world.

And can we help perceiving, here, how indispensable he is to the happiness of his people? The disciples were comfortless in the view of his absence ; and it is easy to account for this, from their attachment to him, and from the pleasure and profit they had derived from him. We feel, and tremble,

and groan, at parting with a friend, or relation. What must the feelings of the disciples have been, at the thought of losing him! They would be left in the world, like sheep without their shepherd; like travellers in a wilderness, without their guide; like orphans, bereaved of the father's care, and the mother's bosom. And what could comfort them, but the promise of himself again? Had he said, I will not leave you comfortless, I will send you riches, and honours; princes shall be your friends, and angels your servants-what would all this have been, without the assurance, "I will come to you?" But this is sufficient. Here is a resource equal to the exigency; a consolation adequate to all the distress.

The good found in creatures is always finite, and very limited. It is also much dispersed, so that we must apply to many, to contribute their part to make up one comfort. The happiness we derive from creatures is like a beggar's garment-it is made up of pieces, and patches, and is worth very little after all. But the blessedness we derive from the Saviour is single, and complete. In him all fulness dwells. He is coeval with every period. He is answerable to every condition. He is a physician, to heal; a counsellor, to plead; a king, to govern; a friend, to sympathise; a father, to provide. He is a foundation, to sustain; a root, to enliven; a fountain, to refresh. He is the shadow from the heat; the bread of life; the morning star; the sun of righteousness-all, and in all. No creature can

be a substitute for him; but he can supply the place of every creature. He is all my salvation, and all my desire; my hope, my peace, my life, my glory, and joy.

Whom have I in heaven, but Thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee. My flesh and my heart faileth, but Thou art the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever. I cannot be