scorn and complete self-crucifixion: "He that is not with me, is against me." Therefore, whenever Christ is felt claiming man, and the claim is passed by, the man stands in the position of Pilate of old, and has no choice but to deny himself, or crucify Christ.

There are times in a man's history when he is compelled to decide between the two; for man has two natures open to two great influences:—the higher nature receiving the appeals of Christ-Conscience-Heaven; the lower nature receiving the appeals of the World-the Flesh-and the Devil. These two natures are sure to be brought into conflict, and when they are, then the soul ascends her throne of judgment, and decides which shall be crucified.

To render this clear to every one, let us take two illustrations. The man of the world has his hour when the truth, too often resisted, returns again in power:-an hour, when at the door of his heart-closed though it have been for years-stands the Christ summoning him once more to yield. At the same moment comes the hissing voice of the Tempter-"Take thine ease a little longer; remain one day more in the worship of the golden idol-hear Christ to-morrow:" and the soul, like Pilate, leaves the judgment-throne, and yields to the lying voice. Now, go within that man's heart:-Do you not see a cross standing there in the gloom, while a pale hand is writing over it, in the letters of the spirit-world, this title="This is JesusI crucify the King"?

Or again: There comes a day in the history of the young soul when he feels that he has left childhood behind, and is girding himself for the battle of life that lies, with all

its gloom and glory, untried before him,-then often, in the opening dawn of manhood, the truth of Christ is felt, rousing the nobler nature:-then often the man of Nazareth approaches that soul, unseen, and His voice pierces like music to its inmost temple, saying-"For thee I sorrowed, for thee I died; I will give thee the glory of God's angels in Eternity, if thou wilt take up thy Cross and follow me:" and at the same moment come the three mocking spirits of the world-Pleasure-Wealth-Fame: and with garlands in their golden hair, and songs in their voices, telling of earthly love and glorious gains, they say -"Follow-follow-follow me." The choice is madethe struggle ended! He has chosen the earthly. Again I say, enter that soul now, and gaze on the newly-erected Cross within, and read in the letters of fire that are flashing on it "I crucify Christ, the King of men; I will not crucify myself:" and the inscription of life has begun.

II. That inscription is written irrevocably: "What I have written I have written." Pilate felt that the deed was done:-Jesus crucified; his own struggle miserably ended, the past was beyond his recall.

It is a startling fact, that whatever a man's life writes is written irrevocably and eternally; for the inscription of man's life is written on two tablets, both of which are everlasting.

(1.) The tablet of the eternal past. The past has become part of Eternity. Every deed done is done for ever. You may lament it, but you cannot alter it—it is a fixed, eternal fact in God's universe. And when a man has

written his life-title on the Cross, he may weep oceans of tears, but no human tears can wash it away.

The past, moreover, is a living power in the present, and it gradually forms the unchangeable character. Pilate found out that. It would have been immeasurably harder for him to change afterwards. All that we do lives on in the past-it is not dead. We are making the record of immortality by the inscription we are writing on life. You say the past has perished, but you forget that the present is filled with its living and active results. Take an illustration. You see the snow covering the mountains -falling-falling silently; and you may feel that you are looking on the records of a dead past. There it lies cold -motionless. But wait awhile-the spring sun shines; and, in the form of a desolating avalanche, that dead past starts into a living power in the present. So in life, the past is forming our present and our future. The sins of the past are not dead and gone; they have helped to make us what we are; and let the opportunity arise-let temptation come-and by our acts in the living present, they will terribly assert their power. Crucify self, and the Cross becomes easier every day. Crucify truth-sell it for expediency-and every day you will find it harder to take the Cross down. Man at last comes to a point where the flaming sword forbids his return.

(2.) The tablet of the immortal memory. We can forget nothing. Memory may sleep, but it cannot perish. Within the soul is the everlasting picture of all our life: and it only needs the light of conscience to waken it into awful brilliancy. Therefore, he whose life writes the title

"I crucify Christ's truth-I will not crucify myself," writes it in that "book of remembrance" which God will open for him by and by!

III. That inscription is read by God. This, then, is life-man writing silently-constantly-his life inscription over one of the two Crosses which stand in his soul, and the great silent God reading it all the while. God will make him read it with vain tears hereafter !

Thus we cannot escape the Cross. By being crucified with Christ to self, we write the inscription of Heaven; by our refusal, and by crucifying Christ's appeals, we write, every moment, our own sentence of mournful doom.

In closing, we infer from this the absolute necessity of instant decision. While man delays, he is still writing his life-inscription, although he may not know it. He cannot wash out what he has written, but the blood of Christ can cleanse it all!

X.

THE CONSTRAINING LOVE OF CHRIST.

2 CORINTHIANS v. 14.

"The love of Christ constraineth us."

IF we were acquainted with only the outlines of Paul's history, and then, for the first time, heard these words as one of his utterances, we should instantly feel that they expressed the secret power by which the great deeds of his life were done. By an intuitive conviction, we should feel that in the utterance of these words, the Apostle had uplifted the veil of his spirit and shown us the glorious_fire which kindled him into mighty enterprise, and nerved him amid perpetual trial; and with this key to Paul's life in our hands, his heroism, though most marvellous, would become comprehensible. But if we connect this assertion with the words which immediately precede it—" Whether we be beside ourselves, it is to God; or whether we be sober, it is for your cause," we shall see that not only his great, heroic deeds, but his common acts and judgments, were moulded by the same power. He had defended him