by any perception of its own as to what is right and true.  Is the law dead really to such as these? or should it be so?  Is punishment a degradation to a nature which, is so self-degraded as to be incapable of being moved by anything better?  For this is the real degradation which we should avoid; not the fear of punishment, which is not at all degrading, but the being insensible to the love of Christ and of goodness; and so being capable of receiving no other motive than the fear of punishment alone.  With such natures, to withhold punishment, would be indeed to make Christ the minister of sin; to make mercy, that is, lead to evil, and not to good.  For them, the law never is dead, and never will be.  Here, of course, in this first life, as I have called it, punishment indeed goes but a little way:  it is very easy for a hardened nature to defy all that could be laid upon it here in the way of actual compulsion.  Our only course is to cut short the time of trial, when we find a nature in whom that trial cannot end in good.  Still there may be those in whom this life here, like their greater life which shall last for ever, will have far more to do with punishment than with kindness; they will be living all their time under the law.  Continue this to our second life, and the law then will be no less alive, and they will never be dead to it, nor will it be ever dead to them.  And however a hardened nature may well despise the punishments of its first life,—­punishments, whose whole object is correction, and not retribution,—­yet, where is the nature so hard as to endure, in its relations with God, to feel more of his punishment than of his mercy; to know him for ever as a God of judgment, and not as a Father of love?

LECTURE XI.

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ST. LUKE xxi. 36.

Watch ye, therefore, and pray always, that ye may be accounted worthy to escape all these things that shall come to pass, and to stand before the Son of Man.

This might be a text for a history of the Christian Church, from its foundation to this hour, or to the latest hour of the world’s existence.  We might observe how it Lad fulfilled its Lord’s command; with what steadiness it had gone forward on its course, with the constant hope of meeting Him once again in glory.  We might see how it had escaped all these things that were to come to pass:  tracing its course amidst the manifold revolutions of the world, inward and outward.  In the few words, “all these things that shall come to pass,” are contained all the events of the last eighteen hundred years:  indistinct and unknown to us, as long as they are thus folded up together; but capable of being unrolled before our eyes in a long order, in which should be displayed all the outward changes of nations, the spread of discovery, the vicissitudes of conquest; and yet more, the inward changes of men’s minds, the various schools of philosophy, the successive