"God manifest in the flesh"—what is it but to realize a mental development and maturity far transcending all that the wisest ever attained to in this mortal state, perpetual union of our redeemed humanity with the Divinity, and a blissful process of assimilation going on forever? Christ is light without darkness; and to be like him implies a clearness of understanding and a certitude of truth free from all prejudice, distortion, and blinding error. Christ is divine charity incarnate; and to be like him is to love as he loved—with the ardor, the intensity, the self-forgetfulness, which drew him to the manger and led him to the cross. Christ is immaculate holiness made visible to men; and to be like him is to be as spotless, as faultless, as free from iniquity, perversity, hypocrisy, impurity, as He who could challenge the world with the demand—"Which of you convinceth me of sin?" Christ is every moral excellence combined and blended in human character; and to be like him is to be subject to all those high principles and noble impulses which give him infinite preeminence as a model to mankind, and make him in angelic estimation "the fairest among ten thousand and altogether lovely." Christ is the King whom God the Father hath exalted above all powers and principalities even in heavenly places; and to be like him is to reign with him, partners of his glory upon an imperishable throne, when all the dominions of earth shall have passed away as a forgotten dream. All this, and much beside that no human imagination can conceive, is manifestly comprehended in the apostolic statement, that "he shall come to be glorified in his saints, and admired in all them that believe"—men and angels, the whole universe, beholding in every disciple a perfect facsimile of the glorified Master. And thus the declaration is triumphantly verified: "We know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is."

Spirit is invisible. In his essence, we shall never see God. That men might see him, he became incarnate in human flesh. Except in the person of Jesus Christ, his creatures will never see him. But even Christ is far away, gone back to heaven, and seen only by faith. Often, no doubt, his disciples wish they could see him with their eyes of flesh; but they never will till his promised personal return. With the apostle, they are ever thinking and speaking of him whom, not having seen, they love; in whom, though now they see him not, yet believing, they rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory. But often, looking at him even by faith through the disturbing and distorting media of prejudice and passion, they make sad mistakes about him, about his complex nature, his divine perfections, his human character, his former work in the flesh, his present mediation with the Father, his spiritual relation to the Church, his headship over the redeemed creation. We can appreciate another only through his like within ourselves, our sympathy with his moral qualities. Wanting such sympathy, vice never appreciates virtue, the carnal never discerns the spiritual, the selfish never understands the benevolent and disinterested. Failing to discover the true substratum of character, they mistake motives, ridicule peculiarities, and give no credit for qualities which they cannot perceive. Thus, through the imperfection of our sympathy with the Saviour, or the utter want of such sympathy, even when we regard him by faith, we see him not as he is. Ask the world, "What think ye of Christ?" you will get a great variety of answers. One will tell you he is a myth, a phantom, a creation of genius, that never had a real historic existence. Another will call him a pretender, an impostor, a false prophet, utterly unworthy of human credit and confidence. Another pronounces him an amiable enthusiast, and a very good man; but self-deceived as to his mission and ministry, and not a teacher sent from God. Another deems him a wise moralist, enunciating principles and precepts such as the world never heard before; and in his life, an example of all that is pure and excellent; but not essential and eternal God, nor a vicarious sacrifice for human sin. But here is one who regards him as supremely divine, and yet "the Lamb of God that taketh away the sins of the world;" and, by the nail-prints in his palms and the thorn-marks on his brow, so shall he be recognized when he cometh in his kingdom, and the nations of the quickened dead go marching to his throne. All mistakes about him will thus be corrected; and those who have seen him only through a glass darkly, shall see him face to face; and all who have loved and honored him as their Saviour, and trusted in him as their wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption, awaking in his likeness from the dust, shall begin the antiphon which preludes the eternal song: "This is our God! we have waited for him, and he will save us! This is the Lord! we have waited for him, we will be glad and rejoice in his salvation!" Oh that we all may then be found like him, and see him as he is!

[1] The author's first sermon, preached at Pompey Hill, Onondaga County, N.Y., on the sixteenth anniversary of his nativity, July 4, 1829—written afterwards, and often repeated during the fifty-four years of his ministry—the thought here faithfully reproduced, the language but little changed.

II.

REST FOR THE WEARY.[1]

Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.—Matt. xi. 28.

A fine legend is related of St. Jerome. Many years he dwelt in Bethlehem, the town of his dear Lord's nativity. Hard by was the cave, formerly occupied as a stable, in which the blessed Babe was born. Here the holy man spent many a night in prayer and meditation. During one of these—waking or sleeping, we know not—he saw the divine Infant, a vision of most radiant beauty. Overwhelmed with love and wonder, the saint exclaimed: "What shall I give thee, sweet child? I will give thee all my gold!" "Heaven and earth are mine," answered the lovely apparition, "and I have need of nothing; but give thy gold to my poor disciples, and I will accept it as given to myself." "Willingly, O blessed Jesus! will I do this," replied the saint; "but something I must give thee for thyself, or I shall die of sorrow!" "Give me, then, thy sins," rejoined the Christ, "thy troubled conscience, thy burden of condemnation!" "What wilt thou do with them, dear Jesus?" asked Jerome in sweet amazement. "I will take them all upon myself," was the reply; "gladly will I bear thy sins, quiet thy conscience, blot out thy condemnation, and give thee my own eternal peace." Then began the holy man to weep for joy, saying: "Ah, sweet Saviour! how hast thou touched my heart! I thought thou wouldst have something good from me; but no, thou wilt have only the evil! Take, then, what is mine, and grant me what is thine; so am I helped to everlasting life!"

This, my dear brethren, is what Jesus, with unspeakable compassion, offers to do for us all. He would have us bring the several burdens under which we toil and faint, and lay them down at his feet. Pardon for guilt he would give us, peace for trouble, assurance for doubt and fear, and for all our fruitless agony divine repose. See how miserably men mistake his gospel, when they regard it merely as a set of doctrines to be believed, of duties to be performed, of ceremonies to be observed, instead of a mercy to be received, a blessing to be enjoyed, a salvation offered for our acceptance. It is indeed the unspeakable gift of God, the sovereign remedy of all our ills;