shall fade and perish, our moral character shall alone survive.  Riches, honours, possessions, pleasures of all kinds:  death, with one stroke of his desolating hand, shall one day strip us bare to a winding-sheet and a coffin of all the things we are so mad to possess.  But the last enemy, with all his malice and all his resistless power, cannot touch our moral character—­unless it be in some way utterly mysterious to us that he is made under God to refine and perfect it.  The Express Image carried up to His Father’s House, not only the divine life He had brought hither with Him when He came to obey and submit and suffer among us; He carried back more than He brought, for He carried back a human heart, a human life, a human character, which was and is a new wonder in heaven.  He carried up to heaven all the love to God and angels and men He had learned and practised on earth, with all the earthly fruits of it.  He carried back His humility, His meekness, His humanity, His approachableness, and His sympathy.  And we see to our salvation some of the uses to which those parts of His moral character are at this moment being put in His Father’s House; and what we see not now of all the ends and uses and employments of our Lord’s glorified humanity we shall, mayhap, see hereafter.  And we also shall carry our moral character to heaven; it is the only thing we have worth carrying so far.  But, then, moral character is well worth achieving here and then carrying there, for it is nothing else and nothing less than the divine nature itself; it is the divine nature incarnate, incorporate, and made manifest in man.  And it is, therefore, immortal with the immortality of God, and blessed for ever with the blessedness of God.

EVANGELIST

   ’Do the work of an evangelist.’—­Paul to Timothy.

On the 1st of June 1648 a very bitter fight was fought at Maidstone, in Kent, between the Parliamentary forces under Fairfax and the Royalists.  Till Cromwell rose to all his military and administrative greatness, Fairfax was generalissimo of the Puritan army, and that able soldier never executed a more brilliant exploit than he did that memorable night at Maidstone.  In one night the Royalist insurrection was stamped out and extinguished in its own blood.  Hundreds of dead bodies filled the streets of the town, hundreds of the enemy were taken prisoners, while hundreds more, who were hiding in the hop-fields and forests around the town, fell into Fairfax’s hands next morning.

Among the prisoners so taken was a Royalist major who had had a deep hand in the Maidstone insurrection, named John Gifford, a man who was destined in the time to come to run a remarkable career.  Only, to-day, the day after the battle, he has no prospect before him but the gallows.  On the night before his execution, by the courtesy of Fairfax, Gifford’s sister was permitted to visit her brother in his prison.