heaven as fully as it uncovers hell.

It says

quite as much to render heaven alluring, as to render hell alarming.

It is not, therefore, owing to any defect in bliss or glory, nor to any deficiency of information concerning them, that we meditate so seldom and slightly upon them. The Old Testament saints, who knew far less of these eternal realities than we do, realized them far more than we do. This is no gratuitous compliment to their heavenly-mindedness. God, who cannot lie nor err, has expressly testified that their life and conversation "declare plainly" that they desired "a heavenly country," and "looked for a city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God." Why is it, then, that, in general, we are reluctant to dwell upon the prospects of a glorious immortality; and that we require to plan, and watch, and pray, and resolve, before we can at all enter into the spirit of heavenly contemplation; and, that we do not always succeed, even when we make an effort to pass within the veil? It is very pitiful when this question is answered by the cold remark, "We know too little of

heaven to think much about it. We rather know what it is not, than what it is. It is chiefly described by negatives." Negatives! True; but they are glorious negatives. No night! no death! no sin! no suffering or sorrow! This is what heaven is not. And is all this too little to furnish matter for frequent and profound meditation? Sin cannot be a very oppressive burden to the mind that takes no pleasure in contemplating eternal freedom from the very being, as well as from the love and power of sin. Ignorance and liability to mistake and err, cannot be very irksome to the mind that is not delighted with the prospect of seeing "face to face "all the things which we "now see through a glass darkly." Pain and death cannot be much felt or feared, nor the vicissitudes of life much reckoned on, where the prospect of "no more curse" has little or no attraction. It is, therefore, very pitiful, when the negatives of revelation are appealed to, as reasons for not looking much to the things which are unseen and eternal. Were any of the lowest of these negatives to become true of any place in this world, that place

would soon be attractive and popular. The discovery of a country in which there was no pain, or no sickness, would be the theme of enthusiastic congratulation. Such a place would soon be crowded; and even those who stayed at home would be unable to forbear from thinking of it, although it were described only by negatives. Such a negative as "no suffering," would be held to be a positive good, and be hailed with general gratitude. And, as heaven is the entire and general negation of all evil, natural and moral, they evince little mind, and less conscience, who excuse their inattention to it by the pretence, "that we know what it is not, rather than what it is."

It is also common to put forward a better excuse in a worse form; because an unscriptural form. How often are both speaking and thinking, abruptly broken off, by quoting the words of Paul, "Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him." This too is pitiful, whether it arise from ignorance or inattention; for Paul immediately adds, "But God hath 1e

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vealed them unto us by his Spirit," 1 Cor. ii. 9, 10. This the apostle repeats with triumph : "Now we have received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit which is of God, that we might know the things which are freely given us of God; which things also we speak." So far, therefore, is the apostolic argument from being an apology for not attempting to realize heaven, that it is, in fact and intention, a strong reason for looking much and often to the joy set before us. Well might BAXTER say, "Think on the joys above as boldly as Scripture hath expressed them. To conceive of glory, only as above our conception, will beget little love; or, as above our love, will produce little joy." Baxter, indeed, knew well, and Paul knew perfectly, that "the things which God hath prepared for them that love him" surpass all knowledge and comprehension: but they knew, also, that God had revealed these things as freely and fully as they were utterable by words, or could be made intelligible by images; which is just as far as a revelation of them could go and, therefore, these holy men found in this, inspiring reasons for frequent and

rapturous contemplation of the saints' everlasting rest.

This case is similar to that of the love of Christ. It "passeth knowledge" in its breadth and length, its depth and height; but that is not held to be a valid reason for not trying to "comprehend" it. Accordingly, when we do try, we do comprehend enough of its "breadth," to see room for ourselves; enough of its "length," to see residence for ourselves; enough of its "depth," to see support for ourselves; enough of its "height," to see security for ourselves. Or, if at any time, or even often, we fail to see all this in the dimensions and duration of the love of Christ, we feel that the failure is owing to our own blindness or unbelief, and not to any defect in his love. Besides, its incomprehensibleness is felt to be a part of its glory. We understand and enjoy it most when we are constrained to say, "It passeth knowledge!" When Paul uttered this exclamation, and its emphatic accompaniments, he saw more of the wonders of redeeming love than he had ever seen before. His mind was out amongst its immeasurable glories, as