ate.

It was a way of holiness, where no unclean or leprous person was
permitted to travel. Neither can we avail ourselves of the gracious
help of Christ, so long as we are harboring what He disapproves, or
doing what He forbids.

It was so plain and straight, that wayfaring men though fools could not
mistake it. And the Master said, that whilst the wise and prudent
might miss His salvation, babes would find it. "Hidden from the wise
and prudent, but revealed to babes."

It afforded perfect immunity from harm. The wild beasts of the forest
might roar around it, but they were kept off that thoroughfare by an
invisible and impassable fence. Who is he that can harm us whilst we
follow that which is good? The special Divine permission was
necessary, before Satan could tempt Job, whose heart was perfect with
his God.

It was trodden with song. And who can describe the waves of joy that
sometimes roll in on the believing, loving soul. There is always
peace, but sometimes there is joy unspeakable and full of glory. The
hands of Jesus shed the oil of gladness on our heads, whilst the
lamentation and regret that haunt the lives of others are abashed, as
the spectres of the night before the roseate touch of morn.

What further thought did Christ mean to convey, when He said, "I am the
Way"? We cannot see the other side of the moon. The full import of
these words, as they touch His wonderful nature, as it lies between Him
and His Father, is beyond us; but we may at least study the face they
turn toward our lives.

The true value of a way is never realized until we are following it
through an unknown country, or groping along it in almost absolute
darkness. I remember, during a tour in Switzerland, on starting for a
long day's march, the comfort of the assurance that I had only to keep
to one road which was clearly defined, and it would inevitably bring me
to my destination. How different this to another experience of making
my way, as I might, across the hillsides in the direction which I
fancied was the right one! All that had to be done in the first
instance was to follow the roadway, to obey its sinuous windings, to
climb the hills where it climbed, to descend the valleys where it
descended, to cross the rivers and torrents at the precise point with
it. It seemed responsible for me as long as I kept to it. Whenever I
thought to better myself by wandering right or left, I found myself
landed in some diffi