The True Church

Psalm xlvi. 3 — 5.

Though the waters thereof roar and be troubled, though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof, yet* there is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God, the holy place of the tabernacles of the Most High. God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved: God shall bless her, and that right early.

Ottr Psalm is a leap with God over the wall; soaring above the heights of the earth; a joyful dance before the Ark of the Covenant. No tone of complaint, no trace of anxiety, is to be found in this song of triumph; though it may have been sung in a time of distress and affliction. The song breathes only the joyfulness of faith, and confidence is the soul of it. “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble;” so the Psalm begins. “The Lord of hosts is with us, the God of Jacob is our refuge j” thus it ends. It boasts of the secure condition of the people of God; and of this we will speak, according to the indication of

* The word yet, only implied in the English version, is expressed in the German.

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our text, in this last morning of the ecclesiastical year. We consider the true church, according to

its form: - - - - a city.

its situation: - - in the sea.

its consolation: she shall be glad.’

its safety: - - - God is in the midst of her.

I.

There is nothing more vexatious and intolerable to unbelievers, than that we draw so marked a line between the children of God and the children of the world, and are accustomed to represent the number of the former as so very small and inconsiderable. But we cannot help it. We do not make the difference; it is made by God himself; and is deeply rooted in the nature and essence of the two parties: and the Mouth of Truth itself says, in several places, that the number of those who are saved is small. Truly, all that are called are not chosen; and not every one belongs to the true church who bears its colours. Even you, our enemies, are used to say that of those who would be Christians, — but few are sincere. And you may be in the right. After deducting the Canaanites, the false brethren, the foolish Virgins, who have lamps but not oil; clouds without water; and the Issachars, who are their own product, and not that of the Spirit; there remains, in truth, but a small seed — a twinkling star in the vast clouded firmament; a cottage in a garden of cucumbers. That which makes a true Christian is not a decent conduct and the ornament of a regular observance of the outward forms of religion: it is not the retiring from the diversions of the men of the world, and the language of Canaan: it is not the bowed head and the sullen look. Even correct belief is not sufficient. “There are many persons,” says somebody, “who with a little heavenly light go to hell.” The absence of sinfulness of the heart, and to have no wish, to desire nothing, but Jesus, and Jesus alone — the man on the Cross; his blood and his grace — and that from the bottom of the soul: this is the stamp on God’s coin. Do not then mingle chaff and wheat together; do not attempt to unite what God has separated.

The flock of lambs of the chief Shepherd, that rose among thorns, that grain of salt amidst corruption, is called in our text a “city;” and that a city of God. The figure is familiar, and I would only say a few words by way of exhortation.

Truly, it is a strange city; little and insignificant; and yet of an extent equal to that of the world in which we live; stretching from pole to pole. But it will be one day gathered together from the dispersion, and be seen in one spot, in all its beauty and splendour. Every thing belonging to a city is found in this city of God. If you inquire after her foundation, it is a Rock that cannot be moved. If you ask after her walls, the Lord is a wall of fire round about her: — “the Angel of the Lord encamps round them that fear him.” If you ask for her bastions, fences, and pallisades, they are the perfections of our God that are around us: his wisdom, to guide us; his omnipotence, to protect us; his longanimity to bear us; and his grace, to justify and save us. Only one gate has the city, and that is strait; only one way that leads to it, and that is narrow. Whoever attempts to enter by another way, by stealth or by violence, over the walls or through the roof, is a thief and a robber. When we look out of our windows our eyes fall on beloved mountains, on holy places. Here lies Golgotha, there the Mount of Olives, here Gethsemane, there Bethlehem-Ephrata — all much-loved spots, that lie close about us: our city, therefore, is Jerusalem.

The city has its festivals, for instance, when a poor sinner repents; its assemblies, when the brethren live together in unity, and Jesus is in the midst of them; its concerts, when they speak together in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, and Jesus touches the strings of their hearts: and its spectacles, when they sit at the foot of the Cross, beholding the Man with the crown of thorns, and his holy blood, as, making an atonement for sin, it flows from his wounds.

The city has likewise its market-place: there it is proclaimed, “Come, ye that have no money: come, buy and eat; yea, come, buy wine and milk without money and without price.” It has also its council-chamber, where one presides who knows how to give good counsel. Its police too: this every citizen has in his heart, — the controlling power of the Spirit. Has it also its watchmen? Surely it has: they stand on the walls and blow the trumpet, and cry aloud when they see the Bridegroom coming. And here and there stand guards upon the watch-towers, placed there by God, to see what hour the great clock of time has struck. And what do the guards announce in our days % “Past midnight,” they proclaim from the house-tops, and the whole city is in anxious expectation of things that are to come.

In this city now, as the text says, is “the holy place of the tabernacles of the Most High.” Now indeed, every house in which a child of God dwells, is a house of God: for the Lord dwells with his own, under one roof. Nay, every believer is a living temple. It is written, UI live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me.” By the holy tabernacles we are to understand the various conditions and states of the soul, in which the saints are placed by the ordinances of God. There is one well lodged in the lofty rock of pure faith, where, regardless of the ebb and flow of the feelings of his heart, and raised far above all the alternations of spiritual ternperature in his soul, he sings, with Asaph, “Whom have I in heaven but Thee! and there is none upon earth that I desire besides Thee.” Another must make shift in the cave of Adullam, and from year’s end to year’s end eat his bread with tears, and not be able to find comfort. Some dwell in the pleasant abode of a sweet, heartfelt communion wTith the Lord, basking in the sunshine of his love, and deeply feeling the refreshing beams of his countenance shining into their souls; so that they can only exclaim, “It is good for us to be here — here let us make tabernacles.” Others, on the contrary, are confined in narrow, gloomy cells, and must dwell amidst darkness and doubts: their daily task is combat and conflict, labour and pains; and their breath but an effusion of sighs: so that they must be heartily glad when a faint ray of hope shines upon their gloom.

Oh, various are the dwellings in the city of God. One sits under the juniper, another under the apple-tree; one in the desert, another in the garden of roses; one in the cool arbour, another like a fugitive trembling dove, in the cleft of the rock; one in the tent, another in the vineyard; and so on. But all have their windows turned towards the East; and wherever each happens to dwell with his soul, in whatever condition or situation, he is content. God has placed him there; and therefore his dwelling is holy — a dwelling of God; and this even were it a narrow cell, or a dark pit, if only the pit be in the city of God. For we know whither we are going: our stay on earth is but a short sojourn •’ beyond Jordan, better tabernacles are erected for us.

Lastly: our text speaks of “streams” that now into the city of God: and we know that the house of David and the citizens of Jerusalem have one main fountain, which is free and open, against al * impurity and sin, and its name is Immanuel. Four nails and a spear have opened it: now it flows with exceeding abundance j and though people have bathed in it, and drunk of it, for thousands of years, yet its waters have not diminished. Around this fountain of health the city is continually assembled, with buckets and bowls consecrated by faith and prayer j and every cripple and beggar is at liberty to draw from it as much as he pleases for his daily use. Our fountain never dries up, never freezes; and if it now and then seems as if our buckets find, instead of water a hard crust of ice, yet it only seems so; our thirst is notwithstanding quenched, and the water only flows secretly and covertly into our souls.

This well of Jacob nourishes and refreshes us as it pleases; sometimes sensibly, sometimes secretly; now in immediate influxes, now through various indirect channels — as, by the word or sacrament, by the mouth of the brethren, or by their experience and course of life; — sometimes by a sign or image of nature, as Noah by the rainbow; — sometimes by the direction of some event in our lives, or other means. In a thousand streams it pours its balsamic waves through the holy city; in such a manner that almost every citizen of Jerusalem, besides the general fountain, has a spring of his own at his house-door to refresh him. One experiences the hearing of a prayer; in which he possesses as long as he lives a private treasure and a fountain in his chamber, which every day revives and invigorates his courage. Another feels some promise singularly established and sealed in his heart; so that to the end of his days it is to him bread and water and a pilgrim’s staff in his right hand. One has a consoling verse, which is his daily music, and is more to him than the harp of David to Saul. Another sees a vision, or hears a noise, or what else he may internally see and hear, perceive and experience; and this is a fountain in his house and chamber, which raises his head and keeps his leaves fresh and green, when the drought is come. In a word, hunger and thirst are not to be thought of on the Rock of Zion. Bread is g-iven to all, and of water they have a never-failing supply.

II. After having taken a view of the city, we now inquire after its situation j and we learn from the text that it lies in a roaring sea, and that the waves beat against the walls. So has it always lain; and at all times has it been compared with the ship on the sea of Galilee in which the disciples cry, “Lord, save us; we perish!” But the Lord commanded the storm and the waves, so that they passed over in safety. At one time the sea has beaten more furiously against the city than at others: nay, there have been times when it really appeared as if the city were entirely swallowed up, and buried in the deep: but in a moment it rose again above the waters, like a verdant and lovely island, and defied the winds and waves.

In our days the city of God still lies in the sea, and in the very midst of it, as it never lay before, God knows! The enemies of the Cross all around are this sea. Who can discern the bounds of this ocean, which has cast us up 1 who can fathom the depth of their enmity, rancour, perfidy, and malice 1 Here and there the sea is already agitated by furious storms. Hearken, how the waves of false philosophy, and ungodly knowledge, beat more and more audaciously against the sacred wall! See how the floods of hatred to Christ roll more and more madly and violently over the face of the earth! Behold how the enemies more and more eagerly exert all the powers of intellect, all arts, to wage a war of extermination against the kingdom of the Lord, against the poor troop of

Israel, and his cause! Already we see here and there a foaming of rage, and hear a gnashing of teeth, against the fold of Christ j as if the complete outburst of their fury could no longer be restrained. Invention is at a loss to find new terms of abuse and reprobation to heap upon them: they are already spoken of as plague-spots, which afflict mankind, and which, if no other means can be found, must be extirpated with fire and sword.

A frightful and incessant cry of “Crucify, crucify!” sounds through the world against Jesus and his people. Crucify! cries Fashion, which is already almost ashamed of the Christian name, and has raised Anti-christianity to the rank of the religion of the polite world. Crucify! cries Etiquette, in the assemblies and circles of the great, whence Christ has long since been banished, and where no Christian word can enter duty free, and without ridicule and contempt. Crucify! cry a thousand priests of Baal, who will have nothing but morality; no Christ, no cross, no blood, no grace. Crucify! cry almost all the journals, incessantly directing their batteries against true Christianity. Nay, to whatever side we turn our ears, to books and writings, to companies and circles, to the assemblies of the great and the polished, or the drinking-rooms of the vulgar and the low, to the workshops of the mechanics or to the cabinets of men in office, and the counting-houses of the merchants — nay, even to lectures of professors, or the sermons of preachers — wherever we turn, before we hear but only one “Hosannah to the Son of David,” the fatal Crucify, crucify, rudely or politely, covertly or unreservedly expressed, a hundred or a thousand times assaults your ears. Thus do matters stand: so rage the waves of that sea whose breakers roar around the city of God.

But, my brethren, it will yet be worse. God’s watchmen proclaim it from the battlements, and more than one sign of these times indicates that the prophecy is hastening to its accomplishment. The passive waves will one day become billows of fire, and the murmur of the sea be converted into roaring and bellowing. Vast tracts of the ocean around Zion lie even now still and motionless: only in the depths below it boils, and storms, and rages. A fearful mass of rage and rancour has gradually collected against the Cross and its followers, and this powder-magazine waits but for the match, to blow up with a fearful explosion. The thousands that have already become Anti-christians, must still devour their gall and bitterness. The waves of Babel, which lie round Jerusalem like a calm, deep, treacherous sea, still lurk behind the dams; their fury is yet stayed. But who can tell how much longer 1 Every thing indicates that the time of a universal breach of the dams and bars is at hand, and that the great hour of temptation is no longer distant. The sea is already prepared for a dreadful commotion: birds of ill omen, the precursors of the storm, already fly about with piercing cries that forebode nothing good. I will not name the blood-thirsty Inquisition in the West; how it rises with renewed vigour from its tomb, and is exerting itself to the utmost to re-establish the tribunals against heretics. I will not name those missionaries, who with mad fanaticism rage through the neighbouring kingdom of France. I will not name Jesuitism, which is again carrying on its intrigues, and in some parts is aiming at such a degree of power and influence that there is but too much foundation for the alarm with which the church looks upon its efforts. I will not speak of the blood-red sky in the South, of which no politician can calculate what it may bring forth, or how it may yet spread the glare of its fires. I will not dwell on the notes of alarm sounded by the trumpet of God, which in this time of agitation announces serious events. Enough! There is no want of indications of the most alarming kind, of screaming storm-birds on the ocean of our times; and tokens of the most various kinds unite to presage to the city of God a day which shall burn like an oven, and glow like a furnace.

It is true, that many mountains still stand around us, to break the fury of the waves j and many a hill to protect the city of God. Thus, in

THE TRUE CHURCH. Ill

our country we have as a bulwark against the invasions of Babel, and against Anti-christian attacks, an Evangelical king, who is steadfastly attached to the true faith; and against the false prophet without, and his fanatical operations, we have horses and horsemen from many quarters. As a dam against the floods of false doctrine, we have the Bible Society, with its far-spreading branches; and for the enlargement and fortifying of our city of God, we have the invaluable mission, and hosts of Evangelical teachers. To nourish, strengthen, and refresh us, we have our beautiful Divine Service, and the preaching of the unadulterated Gospel. For our encouragement, we have beloved men of God, who zealously blow the trumpet around us, and encouragingly take us by the hand. But who will be our security, that, before we are aware, those mountains shall not also fall, those hills also give way, and all our supports sink into the breach 1 Then the waves of the sea might have their free course, and the city of God might be destroyed. Destroyed 1 No! not so; that can never be.

III. Hear what the sweet Singer says in our Psalm: “Though the waters thereof roar and be troubled, and though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof; [yet] there is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God, the holy place of the tabernacles of the Most High.” Oh, what words of comfort! Are they not like a golden rainbow in the clouds, and like a float to the net, to keep it above water 1 They are sufficient at once to overcome all faint-heartedness, and to put to flight a whole host of timid thoughts. It is not the word of man, but the word of God, delivered by the mouth of man; and hence the power with which it is endowed. “Yet!” Oh, a precious yet! This Yet of our God, is more than those mountains and hills, which it, in fact, renders unnecessary. If we have this Yet in the hand of faith, what should alarm and make us uneasy 1 With this Yet we deprive the storms and the fiery waves of their terrors. With this Yet, we may stand with confidence on our walls; and, however gloomy the prospect, however the thunder-clouds may lower and the deep roar, we proclaim this Yet of our Lord: and though the storm were ever so great and awful, so that voices should call to us on all sides, “You are all fools, to hope where no hope is,” we will not be confounded: our watchword is “Yet, Yet;” and we answer, ‘What is impossible must become possible, sooner than that the city of God shall not be glad with its streams.’ He has spoken the word. Amen.

And now, consider what unheard-of things are here promised to the congregation of God. Not only that they shall abide in the hour of temptation, and be preserved from despondency and back-sliding: they shall even be glad with their streams, and blossom more fair than in times of peace. There are but few rejoicing Christians, yet we learn that it is no sin to be joyful in God. He who has no occasion to mourn, may lift up his head, and need not bow it down like a bulrush. We have cause and reason enough to be glad in the Lord, and to pass through life with a joyful spirit. For what do we yet want, we who are in Christ, and in Him have all that heart can desire; we who go clothed in the purple of our King, and in his robe are glorious before the eyes of God; we who know that our names are written in the book of life, and that our souls are in hands from which nothing and nobody can pluck them away; we who have the assurance that He always loves us, and that He will preserve our treasure till the last day; we who are certain that all our enemies already lie vanquished under our feet, and that one day, adorned with the crown of victory of our Surety, we shall cast anchor on the golden coast of the promised Land 1 Nay, if we could, we might sit from morning till evening at the harp, and none could justly reproach us for being so glad. If we could, our whole life might be a dance, like that of David before the Ark of the Covenant; and we might be drunk with the wine of the house of God, and, as the Prophet says, “make a noise as through wine, and be filled like bowls, and as the corners of the cellar.” God would have nothing against it; He would have pleasure in it. But the eye of our faith is so dim, and the hand of our confidence takes such loose hold; we look more to ourselves than to Christ, and will not seek in Him alone, but would also find something in ourselves: and hence it comes, that, with all our riches, we are so poor in joy, and that our treasure, which we have through grace, is like a talent buried in the earth, from which we do not even get the interest; and our life is miserable, like that of a poor beggar, and yet we are told, “All is yours.”

This wretched life, however, shall one day cease in the city of God on earth; and, wonderful! just at the moment when it should seem to be only beginning in earnest — namely, when the sea around foams and rages in the height of its fury, and the mountains shake with the swelling thereof. But thus, too, it often fares with the individual Christian. When fierce temptations assail him, so that all his supports give way, and all the mountains and hills of his own power and will, and of his own righteousness, are overthrown, so that he must wholly lean on Christ, and be content with his grace; then, and not before, he becomes glad. And so it has fared with the Church of God on earth up to this very day. Never has she blossomed more fair, never has she shone in the night with brighter splendour, than in evil days, in the time of persecution. Read the history of the Church; it is even so. The most glorious stars in the firmament of the church, the most joyful confessors of the faith, became great amidst storms and tempests; and never was the Bride of the Lamb on earth more gloriously adorned, than in the times of martyrdom, and of the martyrs whose path still shines up to this day. Their souls were naturally weak; and when we are weak, then we are strong: then nothing remained to them but to go out of themselves, and to hide themselves in Christ; and in Christ we can do everything. And, indeed, if the Lord is ever with his people by his Spirit and his gifts, it is in such days of distress and affliction, when the sea roars and rages, and the mountains shake. Then he opens more wide the floodgates of his Divine power, and his refreshing streams flow more abundantly, and keep equal course with the sea of troubles and afflictions: the more violent the latter, the richer are the former, for the city of God shall be “glad with its streams.”

And so, probably, matters will not change with the city of God in our vale; which, on the whole, now really looks very mean, poor, and miserable, and is closely covered and hidden. Yes, truly: so long as the good days last, so long ye may go about languid and faint; so long ye may be so full of complaints with your riches, and so bowed down with your treasures, so cold in the embraces of your Bridegroom, so lukewarm and indifferent in the confession of His name; so long you are permitted to continue your disputes and dissensions, to carry on your petty wars of opinion, and to indulge in idle speculations. But, I answer for it, at the final sound of the trumpet that shall announce to you the approach of the hour of temptation; at the first deluge of the waves of the great struggle, which shall break in upon our valley: every thing will be suddenly changed, and the city be glad with her streams. That which was faint will become lively, and that which was weak vigorous. Dissension will cease, and there will be a holding together and unity in love, to astonish the world. There will be no more disputing about the restoration of all things; or whether there be a third place, &c 5 but all will regard one place only, Jesus! Jesus! — and be anxious only about complete restoration to His favour, His blood, and His wounds; and in this strong-hold that which was separated will be again united. Then the covering will be removed, and the tender dove in the clefts of the rock will be seen to soar as with the eagles’ wings, and sucklings shall be as the goodly horses in the battle; and, as the Prophet says, they shall devour and subdue with slingstone. For “though the sea roars and is troubled, and the mountains shake, there is a river, the streams whereof make glad the city of God l”

IV.

Oh, what a glorious prospect for the city of God, though the sky is darkened, and the clouds lower and threaten! How secure does the fair city lie, though in the midst of the sea, whose waves dash furiously against her walls! Her security, however, is not in herself, but in that Rock on which she is founded. “God is in the midst of her,” and “helps her early:” “God is in the midst of her,” as he is in each individual member; always working, not always felt; always active, not always to be traced; incessantly bearing, frequently without our knowledge; constantly blessing and fructifying, not always according to our wish, and often in secret. But he is always at hand. “This is my rest for ever; here will I dwell.”

Blessed, my brethren, are the eyes that see what we see. Behold, one star sings to the other, and from one end of the heavens to the other it is proclaimed, “God is in the midst of her.” Oh, how majestic is the step with which he now again passes through the world — not that he may judge the world, but that he may surround it with the wall of his city of God, and stretch forth the curtains of her habitation over the hills and over the sea! The prince of this world is cast out, and we see with rejoicing how the strong, pressed by the Stronger, is forced to abandon one province after another. Not a hoof remains behind of what the 10*

Father has given to the Son. How does the faithful Shepherd call his sheep; and they hasten from every desert, and every rock, to fall on his breast, and repose in his bosom. How diligently does the great Reaper ply his sickle in the field of his harvest, and bring in the sheaves in abundance, as if winter were at hand, and haste were necessary that the last fruits might be brought home! Islands, that for thousands of years have awaited his coming, tremble with bliss at the sound of his feet; and dark heathen deserts grow light, because their Light comes and salutes with Hosannahs and Hallelujahs the day-spring from on high. The Hottentot sees the golden bark of the dearest of all guests land on his shores, and with bended knees welcomes the Lord of Glory. The man at the North Pole grows warm, on the heart of the most faithful Shepherd, and his ice-bound world blooms like a paradise after the Prince of Peace has entered. Yes; his footsteps are bright and glorious; and mighty voices proclaim from land to land, “God is in the midst of her.” Nor has he either forgotten us — and though he may have latterly trodden less audibly among us, and less in the noonday than in former times, yet his footsteps are still in the valley, and we hear the tinkling of the bells that hang to his priestly garment. If but a few were added to his flock during the past year — and you well know, my beloved, that in this point we must not prescribe to him, but leave him to take his own course; for herein he faithfully follows a plan delivered to him in a holy Council before the beginning of the world — yet he has given manifold evidences of his presence in other ways. He has strengthened the weary hands of one, and upheld the sinking knees of another. The weak in spirit he has borne in the arms of his love, and counselled in due season those who struggled in doubt. He has brought one from the night of temptation into his light, and has bestowed upon another the crown of victory, after the fight was won. One he has made to hear his glad voice, saying, “Be of good cheer, thy sins are forgiven thee!” so that being now healed, he goes on his way rejoicing; while by another providence he has relieved the heart of a second from its heavy burden. Thus there are, doubtless, many in the midst of us to-day, with cheerful, yet penitent countenances, who acknowledge with joy and humility, “The Lord hath done great things for me. Yea, the Lord is in the midst of us — therefore have I not been removed.” And truly, my beloved brethren, is not it an irrefragable proof that Immanuel was in the midst of us, that we have not been removed, that we still remain together on Jesus’ bosom and under Jesus’ standard, though the Devil daily roars around as if he would devour us? And see! how many a bed of pain is in the midst of us, where the bush of thorns has burnt the whole year through, and yet has not been consumed; how many a miserable family, where all was wanting, and yet the barrel of meal did not waste, nor the cruse of oil fail; how many a pilgrim, who knew not what way to take, and yet now has passed Jordan; how many a Jonah, who was about to sink into the deep, and now stands joyful and glorifying God on the shore! For the prosperity of our Christian Institutions; the happy success, far beyond all expectation, of our efforts in the cause of God, behold monument on monument, witness upon witness, praising His mercyr, and loudly proclaiming, in the triumphant language of our Psalm, “God is in the midst of her!”

And so long as a tent of Kedar shall stand in our valley, He will not depart from our valley. Jerusalem is his habitation and his rest for ever. Therefore let us not fear, since the Rock of Jacob is with us, and such a bulwark raised around us. He who bears arms against us, fights with God; and it is dangerous to take the field against Him. Sooner shall the thorns overcome the fire, and the chaff resist the storm, than hell shall triumph over us, who have such a Defender.

“He helps her early,” says the sacred minstrel: and truly this is the manner of our God. His help generally appears as the dawn of the morning after the night. His light, says the Prophet, breaks forth as the morning: and “weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.” After the gloom of penance he gave us the kiss of love; after the night of combat, he crowned us with victory: his glory shone upon us in the cave of Adullam ‘, and after wrestling till break of day, Jacob received his blessing. Therefore, let us not be afraid if a day of clouds and darkness should come over us; He helps us early; and so often as our sky is overcast, it is only that the sun may afterwards shine on us with more welcome and vivifying splendour. And in the darkness itself there is a blessing, a salutary seed in affliction. The church of God is like a palm-tree, which flourishes the more vigorously the more it is pressed down. Every embarrassment is to her but as the weight to the clock, which keeps it going; and the most violent storms are to the church but a brisk wind in the sails, which impels the vessel more rapidly towards the harbour. And beyond her strength she is never tried — beyond her own, indeed, she may, but not beyond that which he lends us — and the desolation of Zion is not to be thought of to all eternity. The city stands fast and immovable, like the Mercy on which it is founded, and the Faithfulness which bears it up. “Not a bone of him shall be broken,” it is written of our Immanuel. This word is in force even unto this day.” We are bone of his bone: who shall hurt us V’ May the Lord strengthen us in the faith, that we may walk cheerfully under the dark sky of this world, looking up to the glorious stars of promise that he has placed amidst the clouds! In this faith may he enclose us as in a fortress, so long as we weep in this vale of fogs and storms! In this faith we repose amidst the waves of temptation, like Noah in his Ark. In this faith we are secure, like a hero in his armour. Who will venture to attack us 1

A ship by winds and waves in vain assail’d; Adventurer bold, whose courage ne’er has faii’d; Gold in the fiery furnace made more bright; A shield of adamant the foes to fright j Hero of God, that ne’er has lost the field; A child of grace, by foreign power upheld; Born where hell:s sad and dreary confines lie, — Such is our faith, in which we live and die,