heartily believe "that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures; and that He was buried, and that He rose again the third day according to the Scriptures"—and he there, then and thus becomes a child of God, a thoroughly saved, perfectly justified, and divinely accepted person. In receiving into his heart the simple record concerning Christ, he has received new life. Christ is the truth and the life; and when we receive the truth we receive Christ, and when we receive Christ we receive life,—"he that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life." (John iii. 36.) When does he get this life? The very moment he believes,—"believing ye might have life through His name." (John xx. 31.) The truth concerning Christ is the seed of eternal life, and when that truth is believed, life is communicated.

Observe, this is what the Word of God declares—it is a matter of divine testimony, not merely of human feeling. We do not get life by feeling something in ourselves, but by believing something about Christ; and that something we have on the authority of God's eternal Word—"the Holy Scriptures." It is well to understand this. Many are looking in for evidences of the new life, instead of looking out at the object which imparts that life. It is quite true that "he that believeth on the Son of God hath the witness in himself" (1 John v. 10.); but, be it remembered, it is "the witness" of a life which is received by "believing on the Son of God," not by looking in upon one's self; and the more undividedly I am occupied with Christ, the more distinct and satisfactory will be "the witness" in myself. If I make the witness my object, I shall be plunged in doubt and uncertainty; but if I make Christ my object, I have the witness in all its divine integrity and power. There is special need of clearness as to this, because of the strong tendency of our hearts to make something within the ground of our peace and contentment, instead of building, absolutely and exclusively, upon Christ. The more simply we cling to Christ, apart from all beside, the more peaceful and happy we shall be; but directly we take the eye off Him, we become unhinged and unhappy.

In a word, then, my reader should seek to understand, with scriptural accuracy, the distinction between life and peace. The former is the result of the connection with Christ's Person; the latter is the result of believing in His finished work. We very frequently meet with quickened souls who are in sad trouble and disquietude as to their acceptance with God. They really do believe on the name of the Son of God, and, believing, they have life; but, from not seeing the fullness of the work of Christ as to their sins, they are troubled in conscience—they have no mental repose. Take an illustration. If you place a hundredweight upon the bosom of a dead man he does not feel it. Place another, and another, and another, he is wholly unconscious. Why? Because there is no life. Let us suppose, for a moment, the entrance in of life, and what will be the result? A most distressing sensation occasioned by the terrible weight upon the bosom. What then will be needful in order to the full enjoyment of the life which had been imparted? Clearly, the removal of the burden. It is somewhat thus with the sinner who receives life by believing on the Person of the Son of God. So long as he was in a state of spiritual death he had no spiritual sensations—he was unconscious of any weight pressing upon him. But the entrance of spiritual life has imparted spiritual sensibilities, and he now feels a burden pressing upon his heart and conscience, which he knows not exactly how to get rid of. He sees not as yet all that is involved in believing on the name of the only begotten Son of God. He does not see that Christ is at once his righteousness and his life. He needs a simple view of the finished atonement of Christ, whereby all his sins were plunged in the waters of eternal oblivion, and he himself introduced into the full favor of God. It is this, and this alone, that can remove the heavy burden off the heart, and impart that profound mental repose which nothing can ever disturb.

If I think of God as a judge, and myself as a sinner, I need the blood of the cross to bring me into His presence, in the way of righteousness. I must fully understand that every claim which God, the righteous Judge, had upon me, a guilty sinner, has been divinely answered and eternally settled by "the precious blood of Christ." This gives my soul peace. I see that, through that blood, God can be "just and the justifier of him which believeth in Jesus." (Rom. iii. 29.) I learn that in the cross God has been glorified about my sins—yea, that the whole question of sin was fully gone into and perfectly settled between God and Christ amid the deep and awful solitudes of Calvary. Thus my load is taken off, my weight removed, my guilt canceled: I can breathe freely; I have perfect peace; there is literally nothing against me; I am as free as the blood of Christ can make me. The Judge has declared Himself satisfied as to sin by raising the sinner's Surety from the dead, and placing Him at the right hand of the Majesty in the heavens.

But, then, there comes another thing of immense value. I not only see myself as a guilty sinner provided with a way of access to God as a righteous Judge, but I see God, in pursuance of His eternal counsels of electing love, begetting me through the Word of truth, making me His child, adopting me into His family, and setting me before Him in such a way as that I can enjoy communion with Him as my Father in the midst of all the tender endearments of the divine family circle. This is obviously another phase of the believer's position and character. It is no longer a question of his coming to God in the full and settled consciousness that every just claim has been met—this in itself is ineffably precious to every sin-burdened heart—but there is far more than this: God is my Father and I am His child. He has a Father's heart, and I can count on the tender affections of that heart in the midst of all my feebleness and need. He loves me, not because of what I am enabled to do, but because I am His child.

Look at yonder tottering babe, the object of ceaseless care and solicitude, wholly unable to promote his father's interests in any one way, yet so loved by the father that he would not exchange him for ten thousand worlds; and if it be thus with an earthly father, what must it be with our heavenly Father? He loves us, not for aught that we are able to do, but because we are His children. He has begotten us of His own will, by the Word of truth. (James i. 18.) We could no more earn a place in the heart of the Father than we could satisfy the claims of the righteous Judge. All is of free grace. The Father has begotten us, and the Judge has found a ransom. (Job xxxiii. 24.) We are debtors to grace for both the one and the other.

But, be it remembered, while we are wholly unable to earn, by our works, a place in the Father's heart, or to satisfy the claims of the righteous Judge, we are, nevertheless, responsible to "believe the record which God has given of His Son." (1 John v. 9-11.) I say this lest, by any means, my reader should be one of those who intrench themselves behind the dogmas of a one-sided theology, while refusing to believe the plain testimony of God. Many there are—intelligent people, too—who, when the gospel of the grace of God is pressed upon their acceptance, are ready to reply, I cannot believe unless God gives me power to do so; nor shall I ever be endowed with that power unless I am one of the elect. If I belong to the favored number, I must be saved; if not, I can't.

This is a thoroughly one-sided theology; and not only so, but its one side is turned the wrong way—yea, it is so turned as to wear the form of an absurd but most dangerous fatalism, which completely destroys man's responsibility, and casts dishonor upon God's moral