they are so intended; but Jesus Christ alone, in the sufferings of His own Cross, was the burntoffering, "the propitiation for our sins."

Now, although He hath perfectly satisfied for us, and saved us by His sufferings, yet this conformity to Him in the way of suffering is most reasonable. Although our holiness doth not stand in point of law, nor come in at all in the matter of justifying us, yet we are called and appointed to holiness in Christ, as assimilating us to Him, our glorious Head; and we do really receive it from Him, that we may be like Him. So these our sufferings bear a very congruous likeness to Him, though in no way as an accession to His in expiation, yet, as a part of His image; and, therefore, the Apostle says, even in this respect, that we are "predestinated to be conformed to the image of His Son." (Rom. viii. 29).

Is it fit that we should not follow where Our Captain led, and went first, but that He should lead through rugged, thorny ways, and we pass about to get a way through flowery meadows? As His natural body shared with His head in His sufferings, so ought His body mystical to share with Him, as its head, the buffetings and spittings on His face, the thorny crown on His

head, a pierced side, nailed hands and feet. If we be parts of Him, can we think that a body finding nothing but ease, and bathing in delight, can agree to a Head so tormented? I remember what that pious duke said at Jerusalem, when they offered to crown him king there, "Nolo auream, ubi Christus spineam." "No crown of gold, where Jesus was crowned with thorns."

This is the way we must follow, or else resolve to leave Him: the way of the cross is the royal way to the crown. He said it, and reminded them of it again, that they might take the deep impression of it: "Remember what I said unto you, the servant is not greater than his lord. If they have persecuted me, they will also persecute you; if they have kept my saying, they will keep yours also." (John xv. 20). And particularly in point of reproaches: "If they have called the master Beelzebub, how much more shall they call them of his household ?" (Mat. x. 25.) A

bitter scoff, an evil name, why do these fret thee?

reproaches for Christ, They were a part of while He was here.

thy Lord's entertainment Thou art even in this a "partaker of His sufferings," and in this way He is bringing thee forward to the partaking of His glory. That is the other thing.

"When His glory shall be revealed." Now that He is hidden, little of His glory is seen. It was hidden while He was on earth, and now it is hidden in heaven, where He is; and as for His body here, His Church, it hath no pompous dress, nor outward splendour; and the particular parts of it, the saints, are poor despised creatures, the very refuse of men in outward respects and common esteem. But there is a day wherein He will appear, and it is at hand; and, "He shall be glorious, even in His despised saints," and "admired in them that believe." (2 Thess. i. 10) How much more in the brightness of His own glorious person! Terrible shall it be to those that formerly despised Him and His saints, but to them it shall be the gladdest day that ever rose upon them, a day that shall never set or be benighted; the day they so much longed and looked out for, the full accomplishment of all their hopes and desires. Oh, how dark were all our days without the hope of this day!

"Then," says the Apostle, "ye shall rejoice with exceeding joy" (1 Pet. iv. 13); and to the end you may not fall short of that joy in the participation of glory, fall not back from a cheerful progress in the communion of those sufferings that are so closely linked with it, and

will so surely lead unto it, and end in it: for in this the Apostle's expression, this glory and joy is set before them as the great matter of their desires and hopes, and the certain end of their present sufferings.

Now, upon these grounds, the admonition will appear reasonable, and not too great a demand, to "rejoice" even in "sufferings

ARCHBISHOP LEIGHTON.

ON THE DEATH OF A BELOVED CHILD, WHO DIED AT A YEAR OLD.

Sweet babe, I hear thy knell!

The Lord of life and death,

Who doeth all things well,

Hath hush'd thy gentle breath.

Twelve months have wing'd their flight

Since first we welcom'd thee,

Like a soft beam of light,

Gilding a troubled sea.

Alas! that light has fled:
Thy little day is done.
Can we believe thee dead?
My own, my darling son.

Fair blossom-lovely flow'r-
So exquisitely dear!

Bright was that passing hour,

When thou wast with us here.