it rest in God alone, but the message declaring the fact is part of the “ministry of reconciliation,” committed, in the infinite condescension of God, to the “earthen vessels.”  An illustration may be taken from the pardon of a criminal condemned to death; the Home Secretary recommends it, but the King, on his sole authority, grants it, and then the message, the absolvo te, which lets the man go free, is delivered by the governor of the gaol.

Penitents, especially after a first confession at some crisis in mature life, often bear witness to the fact that it seemed to bring them straight into the presence of Jesus Christ; to make them feel the reality of His pardoning blood in a way they never could have believed possible.  How strange that the very thing which by so many pious and thoroughly honest souls is dreaded because it is supposed to bring a man in between God and the soul, should yet so often be used by the Holy Spirit to give a wondrous and precious vision of Christ the Saviour.

Thus far we have spoken only of that kind of occasional Confession which is obviously contemplated by the Prayer Book; we have no time to dwell on its habitual use.

Suffice it to quote some words from the first English Prayer Book:—­

“Requiring such as shall be satisfied with a general confession, not to be offended with them that do use, to their further satisfying, the auricular and secret confession to the priest; nor those which think needful or convenient to open their sins to the priest to be offended with them that are satisfied with their humble confession to God, and the general confession to the Church.”

That staunch Evangelical Churchman, Bishop Thorold, who was strongly opposed to habitual Confession in our Communion, once said, “We cannot ignore the fact that the giants of old owed much of that saintliness, which we of the present day can only wonder at but cannot reproduce, to the practice of Confession.”

If you should be in doubt about it for yourself, consult some spiritually-minded person who possesses experience in the matter.  Not, on the one hand, the man who will tell you that it is the greatest curse the Church has ever known; nor, on the other, the one who would have it practised by everybody.

Surely for us sober Church folk there must be a loyal middle course, which leaves absolute freedom, so long as the individual “follows and keeps the rule of charity, and is satisfied with his own conscience.”

Last, but most important of all, in the discipline of the spirit comes the Holy Communion, about which we shall speak next week.

As our closing thought, let us go back to what we said just now.  The object of religion is God’s glory, not man’s enjoyment.  See how this puts feelings down into their right, and subordinate, place.  They are sometimes very delightful, sometimes very depressing, but always liable to be misleading.  A great saint of old used to say:—­“If God never gave me another moment of sensible devotion in prayer, I would go on praying, because His glory demands it.”