separate seeds the word fell into ten thousand separate hearts, and each heart, rent for receiving the seed, was further rent by the seed, when it swelled and grew. There is no wholesale spiritual growth. The wide revival consists of many persons, each of them separately renewed in the Spirit.

Barnabas and Saul returned to Antioch. There is great significance in the going and coming of these messengers. These are the couriers of the Great King, carrying his commands from province to province of his realm. First, they carried from Antioch a contribution to sustain the Christians of Jewish origin at Jerusalem through the famine. That gift was well fitted as an instrument to remove barriers, and unite Greeks and Jews in the common faith. From Jerusalem, and from Jews, came forth the spiritual things wherewith the Gentiles at Antioch were enriched; they only obey a law of the kingdom when they load the returning train with temporal gifts for Christian Jews in Jerusalem. Such reciprocal charities were eminently fitted to break down the partition-walls, and blend all believers into one.

By this time the Christian leaders were aware of the importance of Antioch. They determined to occupy it for the work of the kingdom. Foreseeing the expansion of missionary work both in and from the capital, Barnabas and Saul induced John Mark to accompany them and share their labour. He was the son of Mary, sister of Barnabas, in whose house the prayer-meeting was held while Peter was in prison, and to whose house Peter went when he was free. This young man would go to Antioch probably in two capacities,-both as an assistant to the elder missionaries, and as a witness of their work, who might afterwards give evidence in Jerusalem regarding its character.

On the return of the deputation from Jerusalem, the College of Evangelists was constituted at Antioch. Excluding John Mark as a junior and a new-comer, it consisted of five members. Besides the two missionaries already introduced to our notice, there were "Simeon that was called Niger, and Lucius of Cyrene, and Manaen which had been brought up with Herod the tetrarch." The note attached to the name of this man is full of interest. He was foster-fellow of that Herod who slew the Baptist, and set at nought the Lord on the morning of his death.

Manaen thus seems to be another Moses drawn out of the water. Brought up in the company of an ungodly and licentious prince, he was nevertheless chosen as an object of mercy, and employed as a messenger of grace. Perhaps, like Moses, he had it in his power to obtain and keep a position near the throne; but, like Moses, he esteemed the reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures of Egypt. We have no account of his conversion; but, whatever may have been its date and its circumstances, it is certain that when he became a disciple of Christ he no longer set any value on his connection with Herod's house.

The power and sovereignty of grace are frequently

| displayed in choosing one from the steps of a throne, and making him a vessel to bear the name of Christ. Manaen was snatched from the side of a murderer, and numbered among the saints of the Most High. His name was blotted from the family register of the tetrarch, and written in the Lamb's book of life. Those who have been saved, as it were by fire,-who have been arrested and won in spite of the strong man's greatest efforts to keep his goods in peace, have peculiar delight in looking back over the way by which the Lord has led them. On the other hand, those who remain in Herod's house, entangled by its business and gains, should learn from this case that they are welcome to Christ. It was a true word that fell from lying lips, when the Pharisees murmured, "This man receiveth sinners." Whosoever will, let him come.

There is scarcely a congregation of believers that lacks its Manaen, highly esteemed now as a brother in the Lord, who seemed destined in his earlier years as devotee and victim to the pleasures of sin. It is a peculiar delight to the Christian brotherhood, and a peculiar glory to divine grace, when one who has been brought up for the world, is snatched from the world, and admitted as an heir of the new kingdom. It is sweet to see the children of Christian parents born to the Lord in their childhood, through means of a pious nurture; but it is perhaps more gladdening and inspiring to see the goings of the Lord, when he puts forth his power to wrench subjects from the God of this world, and make them princes round his own throne.

IV.

THE FIRST FOREIGN MISSION.

ACTS xiii. 2-12.

"As they ministered to the Lord and fasted, the Holy Ghost said, Separate me Barnabas and Saul for the work whereunto I have called them." While they were enjoying privileges for themselves, they heard the command to carry these privileges to others. Behold the natural history of missions! Freely ye have received, freely give. They possessed the gospel, and therefore they must spread it abroad.

Two were sent out together. They remembered the act of the Lord Jesus how he sent out the seventy in pairs, and they will follow his example. The ministry of the Spirit is sovereign here on every side. Antioch is chosen as the first site of a Gentile Church, and consequently becomes the starting-point for the first foreign mission. The same features that commended the placeto Imperial Rome as the Eastern capital, commended it to the apostles of the Lord as the headquarters of the kingdom that is not of this world. Situated in the East, it enjoyed, by the Orontes and the Mediterranean, easy access to Greece and Rome. From this great mart the glad tidings will be borne along with the stream of commerce to the nations of Africa and Europe.

The men chosen for foreign work, in accordance with

the mind of the Spirit, were the mightiest men. They did not send out some persons who had turned out useless at home. The foreign field always needs, and in that age actually obtained the ablest labourers. I suspect the chief obstacle to the success of modern missions lies here. The Church at Antioch sent the cream of the ministry abroad; if they had sent the grounds, their success would have corresponded to their effort. Here and there in our own time, when the Spirit has descended in power, some men mighty in word and deed have taken the field, and the result has been a gain corresponding to the outlay; but it is the grief and the weakness of the Church at the present day that her chiefs are for the most part occupied at home. They sent Barnabas and Saul. Barnabas had already been tried, and found faithful. His gravity, his authority, and his benevolence seemed to point him out as leader of the expedition. But they have at hand this young man Saul—a man of vast knowledge, of fiery zeal, of great courage, and unflagging perseverance, but withal not much tried and not much known. Send him out under the direction and influence of Barnabas, that his great talents may be turned to the best account. Soon shall the whole Church know that the Lord has destined this man for the foremost place. When the pair departed it was Barnabas and Saul; when they returned it was Paul and Barnabas.

Westward the expedition moved. Europe must be won to Christ. The light of life, like the natural sun, travels from the East.

The two missionaries were solemnly ordained to their specific work, and set out on their journey. Whether by land or by the river, they first travelled to Seleucia, the sea-port of Antioch, on the Mediterranean, and taking ship at that port, they crossed over to Cyprus, the nearest of the large islands.

The

Having landed at Salamis, a town on the eastern side of Cyprus, they crossed the country without much delay or much success until they reached Paphos, the residence of the Roman governor, on the western shore. This was a place notorious for its licentiousness even in that age. It was the shrine of impurity for the heathen world. There the unclean spirit had his seat. These soldiers of Jesus Christ, in their first campaign, marched right up to the capital of the enemy's kingdom. Among Roman provinces Cyprus was small. governor held not the highest rank. One may suppose he was disappointed when he learned that this comparatively insignificant sphere was assigned to him, and envied the better fortune of competitors who obtained Gaul and Spain. He lived, however, to thank God for the providence that cast his lot in Cyprus. He did not enjoy so large a salary as the chief of a richer province, but he obtained through the missionaries a greater treasure.

This governor was a prudent man. He was thoughtful and sober. He was probably dissatisfied with the worn-out superstitions of idolatry, and longing for some

thing solid on which his soul might lean. It is probable he asked Pilate's question, “What is truth?” with an earnestness that Pilate never knew. Alas! when people in high places become earnest inquirers, false teachers swarm around them like flies, eager to suck sustenance from the wounds of the great. The governor had at this time in his train a certain fortune-teller, who called himself Elymas-that is, "the wise," for the root in Arabic seems to be the same as the Turkish ulemah, or priest. This man's own Hebrew name was Bar-jesus, "son of the Saviour." He pretended, through soothsaying art, to cure the ailment of the governor's spirit; and poor Sergius, precisely because he was ailing in spirit, had not force to throw off the incubus. The mountebank stuck to the governor, and fattened on his wealth. When the missionaries from Antioch reached the city, and opened their commission by preaching Christ, the governor sent a message to summon them to his court, that he might hear their doctrines. They willingly obeyed the summons, and presented themselves at the palace.

But the sorcerer, fearing lest his own influence should be destroyed, endeavoured to prevent the governor from listening to the gospel, or to hinder him from receiving, if he had already heard it. How eagerly the modern sorceress, who sits on the seven hills, strives to hinder a meeting between human souls and Christ in his Word!

At this stage we would be apt to say, What a pity that Elymas was on the spot to interfere with the good work when the Christian missionaries obtained an opportunity of preaching to the ruling classes at the capital! Nay; He doeth all things well. As Christ said when Lazarus died, "I am glad for your sakes that I was not there;" so he might say, in the case of Sergius Paulus, "I am glad for his sake that Elymas was there with his sorceries, seeking to turn away the deputy from the faith" for the efforts of the sorcerer to turn him away were overruled as the means of bringing him near. If Elymas with his wicked arts had not been there, it is probable that the governor would not have been converted. In his later experience, Paul became well aware that the opposition by adversaries is often an essential means of success. On one occasion, reporting a very favourable opportunity for conducting his work, he describes it by two features-a wide door, and many adversaries. He seems to intimate that one of these two factors alone would not have constituted the opportunity which he valued and enjoyed. Both were needed. If there had not been a fierce wind blowing against his kite, it would not have been able to rise. The experienced missionary accordingly was glad of the storm.

Who shall tell whether the sermon would not have fallen flat on sleepy ears, and whether the governor would not have yawned the preacher away to make room for some new excitement, if the opposition of Elymas had not arrested his attention, and the judgment on Elymas had not struck him with astonishment. All things wrought for good: the things that hap

pened then and there turned to the furtherance of the gospel.

Here first the name Paul appears; and Saul is not employed again, except in narratives of his earlier experience. Here, under his new name, Paul springs to the front, and he is never found in the second rank❘ again. Now first he is fully installed into office as the Apostle of the Gentiles. It is in his short, sharp rebuke of Elymas that he reads himself in.

In allusion to the meaning of the sorcerer's name, "son of the Saviour," the apostle sternly denounces him as a "child of the devil ;" and through inspiration speaks the sentence which God inflicts-the sentence of temporary blindness. This judgment falling on the adversary, convinced Sergius that Paul and Barnabas were men of God, and made him reverently listen to their

word. "Then the deputy, when he saw what was done, believed, being astonished at the doctrine of the Lord." What was done could not have enlightened and renewed the Roman; but it opened his mind for the reception of the word of life. Thus the Lord in providence at this day employs judgment-strokes of many different kinds to open a path for the gospel into hearts that otherwise would have remained closed. Welcome the Lord's hand, even though its stroke be painful, when it prepares the way for the Lord's Word! If we had access to the great multitude who stand round the throne in white clothing, and could ask each saved saint to tell his own experience, probably nine out of every ten would answer that providence, generally feared and fretted at, came crushing forward first, and broke up a way for grace to follow.

ATHER, beloved father, speak the words, only. Give me thy blessing, and let me hear thee say, 'Go in peace.' The Lord hath called me to this work, and I dare not draw back."

"But, my son, have you counted the cost? The long journey, the far-off land, the difficulties, the dangers, it may even be the-;" but the old man's tongue refused to utter the word, whatever it was, that trembled on his lips.

For one instant there was no reply, then the first speaker, a tall, handsome man of about thirty years of age, broke the silence.

"Yes, father, I have; but greater is He who will be with me, than all that can be against me; and well do we know that, through difficulties, dangers, and death-yes, even death at the stake-there is One who can make us more than conqueror. What the Lord Jesus did for John Huss and Jerome of Prague, he can do even for such as I."

"When did this desire first arise in your heart, Paul?"

"Seven weeks ago, after the sad benighted state of the far-off Scottish land was spoken of at the meeting. Father, I am no enthusiast, no idle dreamer, but in my ears at that time a voice seemed to whisper the words, 'Whom shall I send, and who will go for me?' and there and then, in the very presence-chamber of our God, though a crowd was around me, I gave myself anew to the Lord, to do all his will, saying, 'Here am I; send me.' And now I wait only to hear thy loved voice bless me, and bid me go."

"And whither, my son?"

"Many things seem to indicate the sea-bound town of St. Andrews as the place of my residence. The university so lately established there is attracting thither the youth of the realm; and it is the young thinkers of the age we must seek to lead to drink of the Fountain of Life, where alone they can get the eyes of their understanding opened to see the darkness which envelops

them. My work may only be the sowing of the seed, but the breath of the Holy Spirit may bless the springing thereof."

66

And your profession, my son-must you relinquish that? Only to-day several instances of your medical skill were related to me; and to be the means of alleviating in any measure human suffering is surely no mean way of serving the Lord."

"Nay, my father, I think not of relinquishing that; rather of using it as a means of gaining access to dying souls, and so be able to point them to the Lamb of God. Surely our Lord himself sanctioned the union of the two, when he said, 'Heal the sick, and preach the gospel.' My credentials from our far-famed university will in themselves prove sufficient introduction."

"And loving little Liese, how will she do without you, Paul-you, her so fondly loved, only brother?"

The young man's eyes suddenly moistened. "Sweet little Liese," he said, “how she will grieve; but she will bid me go. The Lord is very real to her, sweet one, and the Elder Brother will be always with her. I fear not for her."

Then a silence, deep and prolonged, pervaded the room. The younger man stood still, engaged in fervent prayer; the elder paced up and down, as if the conflict in his soul were too strong to allow him to rest. Ay, his was a sore struggle: one word from him, and his son, his only son, would ere many weeks were over be parted from him for ever in this life; for in the time of which we write (about the year 1423) people ran not to and fro on the earth as they do now, and a journey from the land of Bohemia to the far-off land of Scotland involved almost certainly separation for life. And yet, could he withhold the word? Could he bid one stay who believed the Lord had called him to go?-could he? To his lips rose the words of the Lord to Abraham, "Take now thy son, thine only son, whom thou lovest, and offer him for a burnt-offering." And with these words rose thoughts of another offering, made for him, even the offering up of the only Son of God-" He spared not his Son."

Then the silence was broken; the father laid his hand on the young man's arm, and, in a voice almost choked with emotion, said,

"Paul, Paul, go in peace; and the God of love and peace go with thee. I do believe he has called thee; and what am I that I should fight against God?" And Paul's words were few. Well did he know the greatness of the sacrifice his father had made, a sacrifice as great as that of Abraham when he bound his only son, his loved Isaac, and was ready to offer him at the bidding of the Lord.

"Father," he said, "let us pray." And there kneeling down, they poured out their spirits before the throne, and rose comforted.

But that night, in the quiet of his own room, Paul Crawer asked himself whether he or his father were making the greatest sacrifice for the sake of perishing souls; and he felt sure that in God's sight the offering of him

who sent was as precious as of him who went, and most certainly he who "tarried at home would divide the spoil."

In vain the young doctor tried to sit down and think; a tumult of feelings overpowered him, and throwing on his cloak and hat, he went out into the free air. He crossed some of the streets of the city, the grand old city of Prague. It was there he had been born and educated; there for some years he had pursued his calling as a physician; there his mother had died; there his eyes had been opened to the light of divine truth: but now he hardly thought of these things; a sense of parting and pain was strangely mingled with an inward joy that the Lord had heard his prayer, and had removed all difficulties from his path. A glad, sweet joy that there was One with him even now, who would never leave him nor forsake him. He strolled almost unconsciously down to the river, crossed the fine stone bridge erected shortly before, and stood

"Beside the Moldau's rushing stream."

The moon was up, and its silver shield was thrown on the water, and touched with calm beauty the surrounding buildings; there it was, that wonderful orb, speaking of the Hand which had placed it there. Yes, there was peace in the whole scene-peace, and the perturbed spirit of the young man felt its influence. That river would flow on just as now, when he would be far, far away. His father would walk, as he so often did, by its side; and Liese, little crippled Liese, would be drawn in her chair there, and think, it might be, on the far-off brother she loved so well. And if the face of another rose before his eyes, the thought it gave rise to was lost in the words, "He that loveth any more than me, is not worthy of me;" and slowly retracing his steps homewards, he once more entered his room. It was dark, only the gentle moonbeams fell softly in, and Paul started as the figure of a child met his gaze.

"Liese!" he exclaimed, "you here, and at this hour; what is the matter?"

She sat on the floor, and Paul stooped to kiss her. She was trembling with agitation, but she threw herself into her brother's arms, and only sobbed out the words,-"O Paul, Paul, must you go?"

Then she knew it all, and her brother felt that that very fact lightened his burden; he had dreaded to tell the helpless, fragile, loving being that he was going to leave her. Very tenderly he lifted her, and seated himself with her in his arms.

"Yes, Liese," he said; "the Lord hath called me. It is hard to leave you all, my heart clings close to you; but I have put my hand to the plough, and I dare not look back-and, sweet one, I would not if I could. It may be the Lord may use me to cast some seeds of his precious gospel into the soil of that dark land whither I am bound;-so many perishing in darkness, and 'Jesus not come to them.' You remember, little sister, how dark life was to you till Jesus came and whispered

peace!"

The child raised her head; her eyes were full of tears, but the moonbeams shone now on her face lighted with a heavenly calm.

"Yes, I remember. O Paul, I would have you go; perhaps by some sick-beds in the Scottish town you may be able to speak of Jesus, and souls may look to him and be saved; and he will be with you and me also. And if any child is sick, and fearing to die, tell them how little cripple Liese in Prague learned to love the Lord Jesus, and all her fears vanished, and the great black darkness turned light. And, Paul, tell them of him, our noble Huss,-how even the flames could not make him deny the Lord who died for him. Yes, I can bid you go, brother, though the days will be long, so long, without you. But oh, Paul, will they treat you well? What if they don't care for you and your message, and speak evil of you; or even-;" and the child's voice faltered.

Her brother drew her very close to his heart, and whispered,

"Well, Liese, if they do? The disciple is not above his Master, nor the servant above his Lord. It is enough for the disciple that he be as his Master. And, Liese, have those who are bold in speaking the truth as it is in Jesus no reason to fear persecution here? Is it so long since hundreds of our fellow-countrymen-ay, and women and maidens too-were cast headlong into the yawning pits of the old silver-mines, for no other sin save that of reading the Book of Life, and daring to obey Christ's dying command, 'Do this in remembrance of me,' by taking the cup of salvation? And whatever happens, Liese, you know the Elder Brother hath said, 'Lo, I am with you alway.' There can be nothing too hard to bear when he is with us, can there?"

A gentle "No" was her only response. In afteryears, did the question and the answer ever recur to him? Perhaps so.

The days passed quickly on; all arrangements were completed; many farewells had been uttered; the prayers of hundreds of Christ's faithful witnesses in Bohemia had been offered up in behalf of the medical missionary ere he set out on his arduous undertaking. Bravely had little Liese kept up, repressing her own sorrow in order to comfort her father, and not increase her brother's pain at parting. Child though she looked, fourteen summers had passed over her head, and in mind she was already a woman. Hers was a brave spirit; she could have died, young though she was, for Christ's sake; but she was not called so to do. She had to live for him, to act the true woman's part, the most noble female mission-to conquer self for the sake of others, to soothe when her own heart was nigh broken with sorrow, to send forth the loved brother on his Christ-like mission with words of lofty cheer and

of Jesus, to do and bear all things; a noble type of good-heroic womanhood.

And what of Paul? The day of departure had conie, a glorious summer day, sunshine everywhere, rippling the cool waters of the river, playing like golden threads amongst the fresh green of the leafy trees, falling on the quaint old city with its high, pointed gables, seeming almost to mock the idea of pain and sorrow existing in its presence, paining by its very brightness a troubled heart, yet speaking loudly even at such a moment to the heart of Paul Crawer of the Sun of Righteousness, whose beams alone can bring true sunshine and peace to weary souls. In the early morn, ere even Liese was awake, he arose, and dressing, slipped gently out, and going some distance from the city, turned into a "God's acre." The sunbeams were there before him, falling softly-so softly—on the quiet graves. Their brightness, seemed toned down; and as the young doctor knelt beside a grave, and, burying his face in his hands, prayed silently, the sunbeams formed like a crown of gold round his uncovered head, meet emblem of the crown of life promised to those who are faithful unto death. It was by his mother's grave that Paul Crawer knelt; he had come to take a last look at her quiet resting-place ere he went forth on his sacred mission. Well did he know she would have blessed him, and sent him forth to fight the Lord's battles, even as the Spartan mothers clasped the swords on their sons and bid them go forth and fight for their country, telling them either to conquer or fall. Only one thought, one fear, one doubt, crossed his mind. Was he right in leaving-the world would say abandoning-his father and young sister? It was Satan's secret suggestion, his last strong effort to keep back one whom the Lord was designing to use to let in light on a dark part of his domain. But at that grave the enemy was conquered. Once more he seemed to hear that mother's voice praying, as she so often had done, that the Lord would take her son, her only son, and use him in his service as he willed. And with his Saviour's words on his lips"He that loveth father or mother more than me, is not worthy of me"-he rose more than conqueror. As he looked at the quiet resting-place, distinguished from some around it by the stone cup at its head, where reposed all that was mortal of his revered parent, did thoughts arise as to the place where his own dust would "rest in hope"? It may be there did; but if so, what then?

The last words were spoken, the last hymn sung, the final farewell blessing uttered, and the young Bohemian physician was off, safe under the protecting hand of the great Creator, King, and Father, who maketh a way in the sea, and a path in the mighty waters; glad in the Lord, but sorrowing deeply in

less and cripple, with all the sunshine of her young life suddenly died out, yet to be to her father the light, comfort, and strength of his home-strong in the love

loved ones no more-words of which it has been well said, they have a majestically mournful sound, like the roar of the wind amid the pine forest.