throne, his condition would have been hopeless. But there was the altar as well, and here lay the secret of life and salvation for him as for every other convicted and self-destroyed sinner. If the throne had its claims, the altar had its provision. The one stood over against the other-two prominent figures in this most sublime vision-two grand realities in the glorious economy of divine grace. The light of the throne revealed the sinner's guilt; the grace of the altar removed it.

And, most assuredly, nothing else could have done for Isaiah-nothing else for the reader. It must be this in every case. The measure may vary; but the great fact is the same always. "Woe is me !" and "This hath touched thy lips," must go together. The former is the effect of the throne; the latter, the fruit of the altar. That is the need created; this, the object revealed. Nothing can be more simple, nothing more blessed. It is only the One who creates the need that can unfold the object to meet it; the former He does by the action of truth; the latter, by the provision of grace.

“This hath touched thy lips." Mark the words, reader! Note them carefully. See that you understand their force, their meaning, and their application to thyself. “This”what is it? It is the provision-the rich, ample, perfect provision of divine grace. It has wrapped up in its comprehensive folds all that a poor guilty, hell-deserving, broken-hearted sinner can need to meet his guilt and ruin. It is not anything from within, but something from without. It is not a process-it is not an exercise-it is not a feeling; it is a divine provision to meet the sinner's deepest need, to remove his guilt, to hush his fears, to save his soul. All was contained in that mysterious "live coal from off the altar."

We may have occasion to recur to this scene again, in connection with the last point in our subject, namely, the soul's taking hold of the object. We shall, here, just

refer, for a moment, to the style of that wonderful action which spoke peace to the troubled soul of Isaiah. There is no one who is not conscious of the immense power of style over the heart. Indeed, we may almost say that the style of an action is more influential than the substance. And is it not most blessed to know that our God has His own peculiar style? Truly so. Adored for ever be His holy Name, He not only meets our need, but He does it in such a way as to let us know, without a shadow of a doubt, that "His whole heart and his whole soul" are in the act. He not only pardons our sins, but does it after such a fashion as to convince our souls that it is His own richest joy to do it.

Now, it seems to us that the style of the divine action, in Isaiah vi. shines forth in that little word “flew.” It is as though God was in haste to apply the divine balm to a wounded spirit. Not a moment was to be lost. That bitter cry, "Woe is me!" coming forth, as it did, from the very depths of a sinner's broken heart, had gone straight up to the very ear and the very heart of God; and, with the intense rapidity of a seraph's wing, must a divine response be sent from the sanctuary of God to purge the convicted conscience and tranquillize the troubled heart.

Such is the way of our God-such the manner of His love-such the style of His grace. He not only saves us, but He does it in such a way as to assure our hearts that it makes Him far happier to save us than it makes us to be saved. The poor legal, doubting, reasoning heart may ofttimes be full of fear as to how God will deal with us. Spite of all the precious assurances of His love, all the proofs of His mercy and goodness, all the pledges of His readiness to save and bless, still the heart doubts and hangs back; still it refuses to listen to that voice of love uttering itself in ten thousand touching and eloquent strains; still it proves its readiness to lend a willing ear to the dark suggestions of the arch enemy-to its own

wretched reasonings-to anything and everything, in short, but the whispers of divine love. In vain does a Saviour God stand before the sinner, beseeching him to come; in vain does He open His very heart to the sinner's view, "shewing his thoughts how kind they be;" in vain He points to the sacrifice of His own providing-the Lamb of His free giving-the Son of His bosom-still the heart will harbour its dark and depressing suspicions-it will not give God credit for love so full so free-it will not admit that God delights to save, delights to bless, delights to make us happy.

Oh! beloved reader, say, art thou a doubter? Dost thou still hang back? Dost thou still continue to wrong and wound that deep, tender, marvellous love of God that stopped not short of giving His only begotten Son from His bosom, and bruising Him on Calvary's cursed tree? Why, oh why, dost thou hesitate? What art thou waiting for? What more dost thou want? Say not, we beseech thee, "I cannot believe. I would if I could; but I cannot. I am waiting for power." Hear these words, If we receive the testimony of man, the testimony of God is greater." Hast thou not, many a time, received the testimony, the record, the witness of man? If thou wert to tell a fellow mortal that thou couldst not believe him, what would he say to thee? Would he not tell thee thou wert giving him the lie? Wilt thou make God a liar? Thou hast done it long enough. Do it no longer, we beseech thee; but come now, just as thou art, and behold the manner of the love of God-its substance and its style. Come now, with all your guilt, all your wretchedness, all your misery, all your need, and thou wilt find, in that object which God unfolds in His word, all you can need for time and eternity; and not only so, but you will receive a welcome as hearty as the God of all grace can give― Do come!

(To be concluded in our next, if the Lord will.)

A FOURTH LETTER TO A FRIEND ON THE

WORK OF EVANGELIZATION.

DEAREST A-,

July, 1869.

When I took up my pen to address you, in the month of April last, I had no idea that I should have occasion to extend the series to a fourth letter. However, the subject is one of intense interest to me; and there are just two or three points further on which I desire very briefly to touch in this my closing letter.

And, in the first place, I deeply feel our lack of a prayerful spirit in carrying on the work of evangelization. I have referred to the subject of the Spirit's work; and also to the place which God's word ought ever to get; but it strikes me we are very deficient in reference to the matter of earnest, persevering, believing prayer. This is the true secret of power. "We," says the apostle, "will give ourselves continually to prayer and to the ministry of the word."

Here is the order: "Prayer and the ministry of the word." Prayer brings in the power of God, and this is what we want. It is not the power of eloquence, but the power of God, and this can only be had by waiting upon Him. "He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might he increaseth strength. Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall; but they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run and not be weary, and they shall walk and not faint." Isaiah xl. 29-31.

It seems to me, dearest A., that we are far too mechanical, if I may so express myself, in the work. There is too much of what I may call going through a service. I greatly fear that some of us are more on our legs than on our knees: more in the railway carriage than in the closet; more on the

road than in the sanctuary; more before men than before God. This will never do. It is impossible that our preaching can be marked by power and crowned with results, if we fail in waiting upon God. Look at the blessed Master Himself-that great Workman. See how often He was found in prayer. At His baptism; at His transfiguration; previous to the appointment and mission of the twelve. In short, again and again, we find that blessed One in the attitude of prayer. At one time, He rises up a great while before day, in order to give Himself to prayer. At another time He spends the entire night in prayer, because the day was given up to work.

What an example for us! May we follow it! May we know a little better what it is to agonize in prayer. How little we know of this! I speak for myself. It sometimes appears to me as if we were so much taken up with preaching engagements that we have no time for prayer—no time for closet work-no time to be alone with God. We get into a sort of whirl of public work, we rush from place to place, from meeting to meeting, in a prayerless, barren condition of soul. Need we wonder at the little result? How could it be otherwise when we so fail in waiting upon God? We cannot convert souls. God alone can do this; and if we go on without waiting on Him, if we allow public preaching to displace private prayer, we may rest assured our preaching will prove barren and worthless. We really must "give ourselves to prayer" if we would succeed in the 'ministry of the word."

Nor is this all. It is not merely that we are lacking in the holy and blessed practice of private prayer. This is alas! too true, as I have said. But there is more than this. We fail in our public meetings for prayer. The great work of evangelization is not sufficiently remembered at our prayer meetings. It is not definitely, earnestly, and constantly kept before God in our public reunions. It may occasionally be introduced in a cursory, formal