on.'

Then we come to the name in my text, built perhaps on the other two,
or at least reminiscent of them, and recalling them, 'the God of
peace,' who, through patience and consolation, through hope, and
through many another gift, breathes the benediction of His own great
tranquillity and unruffled calm over our agitated, distracted, sinful
hearts. In connection with one of those previous designations to
which I have referred, the Apostle has a prayer very different in
form from this, but identical in substance, when he says 'the God of
hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing.' Is not that
closely allied to the promise of my text, 'The God of peace shall
bruise Satan under your feet shortly'? Is there any surer way of
'bruising Satan' under a man's feet than filling him 'with joy and
peace in believing'? What can the Devil do to that man? If his soul
is saturated, and his capacities filled, with that pure honey of
divine joy, will he have any taste for the coarse dainties, the leeks
and the garlic, that the Devil offers him? Is there any surer way of
delivering a man from the temptations of his own baser nature, and
the solicitations of this busy intrusive world round about him, than
to make him satisfied with the goodness of the Lord, and conscious in
his daily experience of 'all joy and peace'? Fill the vessel with
wine, and there is no room for baser liquors or for poison. I suppose
that the way by which you and I, dear friends, will most effectually
conquer any temptations, is by falling back on the superior sweetness
of divine joys. When we live upon manna we do not crave onions. So He
'will bruise Satan under your feet' by giving that which will arm
your hearts against all his temptations and all his weapons. Blessed
be God for the way of conquest, which is the possession of a supremer
good!

But then, notice how beautifully too this name, 'the God of peace,'
comes in to suggest that even in the strife there may be
tranquillity. I remember in an old church in Italy a painting of an
Archangel with his foot on the dragon's neck, and his sword thrust
through its scaly armour. It is perhaps the feebleness of the
artist's hand, but I think rather it is the clearness of his insight,
which has led him to represent the victorious angel, in the moment in
which he is slaying the dragon, as with a smile on his face, and not
the least trace of effort in the arm, which is so easily smiting the
fatal blow. Perhaps