ptism; as He rose,
so we rise again to newness of life; He ascended to sit on the throne
of the Father, and we are seated with Him in heavenly places. He is
the very soil in which this life grows, and the atmosphere which it
breathes; a Christian is "a man in Christ," and all the functions of
his interior and even of his exterior life are performed in this
element: he speaks in Christ, he marries in Christ, he dies in Christ,
and in the resurrection he will rise in Christ.

This is what would be called the mysticism of St. Paul; and doctrines
resembling this have sometimes been associated in religion with
fantastic speculation and unpractical dreaming. In St. Paul, however,
mysticism had no such results. If there was any part of his life on
which the influence of Christ was more conspicuous than another, it
was the practical part. To him any pretended connection or intercourse
with Christ in secret had no meaning unless its outcome was visible in
a Christlike life--"If any man have not the spirit of Christ, he is
none of His."

To his own person he applied this principle in the most rigorous
manner. Christ, he is fond of saying, lives in him; he almost speaks
as if in his flesh the Son of God had experienced a second
incarnation; but he relentlessly draws the practical conclusion. When
Christ lived in His own earthly tabernacle, what did He live for? It
was for the salvation of men; He went about continually doing good; He
lived to seek and save the lost. If so, then, living in St. Paul, He
must have the same purpose--to make use of his powers of mind and body
for the salvation of the world. In this way Christ was really still
carrying on the work which had been interrupted by His death. St. Paul
dares to say that he is filling up that which was lacking of Christ's
sufferings for the sake of His body, the Church. He says that the
heart of Christ is yearning after men in his heart; that the mind of
Christ is scheming for the kingdom of God in his brain; he even
compares the marks of persecution on his body to the wounds of Christ.

There is nowhere else on record--at least there was not till St. Paul
had taught it to the Christian world--such a merging of one life in
another. And it is all the more remarkable when it is considered how
big and strong a nature St. Paul's was. If any other man might have
coveted an original and independent life, surely he was entitled to
be something in the world; but he had utterly sunk