There are many such internal marks in St. Paul's Epistles, but in none are they so numerous or so remarkable as in the Epistles to the Corinthians. From them (even if the title of the Epistles were lost) we should be able to gather, that the city to which they were written was wealthy, luxurious, and self-indulgent,—that it abounded in costly temples and numerous sacrifices, that solemn public games were celebrated in its neighbourhood,—that its people were advanced in point of philosophical attainment, and apt to presume upon it, even to the extent of doubting about the simple truth of Christian doctrines, such as the resurrection of the body, and taking liberties with Christian practice, as in the case of the meat offered to idols; and that they were unwilling to submit themselves readily and dutifully to the authority of their bishop.

These marks, with the aid of the history, would have been amply sufficient to identify the wealthy and luxurious Corinth, even if the title of the Epistles had been lost; and still they serve to throw a great interest around the letters,—the interest of nature, reality, and truth.

In this particular passage, the Apostle refers the people of Corinth to their own great Isthmian games. "Am I urging you" (this is the

force of his address) "to strange and new exertions, when I press upon you the necessity of close and rigid self-denial, of continual discipline, and painful self-command in pursuit of your great objects? Know ye not? yea, ye know familiarly and well, what is done in your own solemn games. Remember the pains, the zeal, the ambition, the training, and discipline of those who run for the prize in the footrace. Many run, all of whom have carefully and by long practice and pains prepared themselves for the trial,-who have abstained from all ordinary enjoyments for a long time,-who have done many hard and unwelcome things to fit themselves for the contest; and all this they have done with the full knowledge and certainty, that though all have thus prepared themselves, one only shall receive the prize. To the great majority of the combatants defeat and failure are inevitable; and yet consider how little they allow themselves to be deterred, by this prospect, from devoting themselves with the utmost energy and self-denial to the preparation. But your race and trial are, in this respect, quite different only take such pains as they take, and your success is certain. No speedier or happier combatant shall come between you and your prize. Yours is a personal trial, and a

personal success: not like theirs, one to be stimulated by motives of emulation; nor the prize to be lost, except by personal ill-desert. So run, then, that ye may obtain; so run, and ye shall obtain; so run, as they run; as carefully, devotedly, and with unspared exertion run, and ye shall obtain. And they who wrestle, and perform the other exercises of the pancratium, are in like manner rigid and self-denying, long before, in their discipline and temperance. But what is their object, what is their hope, in pursuit of which they are so earnest as to relinquish every common enjoyment, and submit to so irksome a discipline? A crown of pine, or ivy—a wreath which is green and flourishing for a few hours, and then fades and withers away for ever. But your object is a crown too, but a very different one-a crown of life; a crown of glory that fadeth not away, an incorruptible crown, a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give to you in the great day.

"I, therefore," continues St. Paul, speaking, as is his manner, partly in his own person, partly as representing all Christians,—“ I, therefore, so run, not as uncertainly, not as one whose success is doubtful, who may be outstripped by others, and so lose my pains ;-so fight I, not

as the unsuccessful pancratiast, whose strength is unavailing, and his blows wasted on the air,but -we should expect the sentence to end, "but with certainty of winning my race, with full confidence that my exertions will not be lost." This, I say, is the conclusion at which the structure of the earlier part of the passage seems to point. "I run, not as uncertainly, but as certainly; so fight I, not as one that idly beateth the air, but as one that is assured of victory." Thus, I say, we should expect the sentence to end, but it does not do so. It ends not with triumph, but with self-abasement and humiliation. “I run, not as uncertainly; so fight I, not as one that beateth the air; but I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection; I bruise, and blacken, and enslave' it, lest by any means I, who have preached to others, should myself become a castaway."

Surely, my brethren, this is a striking and unexpected conclusion. How cautious and wary is St. Paul ! If he does not express or feel for himself full confidence and security of his own final perseverance in the Christian race and warfare, how little does he encourage others to feel or express it for themselves! Had he continued

1 Ὑπωπιάζω καὶ δουλαγωγῶ.

the paragraph as he began it, had he pursued the contrast between the Isthmian games and the race that is set before the Christian quite through, he would have ended with a strong and glowing statement of the certainty of the Christian's success, and the inestimable value of his eternal crown. But just as he seems to be on the verge of these expressions,-the contrast indicated, suggested, all but completed, nothing wanting to finish the argument but the triumphant declaration of the Christian's assurance, -he checks himself, he refrains. True as it is in general, certain and unquestionable in the abstract, certain too, and full of comfort, even to an individual who is godly, that he may run, not as uncertainly, and fight, not as one that beateth the air; yet St. Paul chooses to omit the statement of his assurance, and rather says that he continues to bruise, to blacken, to enslave his bodily lusts, to use close, constant, rigid discipline over himself, lest by any means, after having preached to others, after having told them of the Christian's assurance, comfort, certainty, after having magnified his blessing, privilege, and hope of triumph, he himself should be found in the great day insufficient, unable to stand the trial, a castaway. He loses the thought of the abstract safety in the feeling of his own danger. The