eace of mind has come; then surely, if he
be worthy of the name of man, he will forget himself, and his own petty
sorrows; and look up to God, to God Himself, and say within his
heart--This great awful Being, eternal, infinite, omnipotent, who yet
condescends to take care of a tiny creature like me, who am, in
comparison with Him, less than the worm which crawls upon the ground,
less than the fly which lives but for an hour--This God, so mighty and
yet so merciful: who is He? What is He like? He is good to me. Is He
not good to all? He is merciful to me. Is not His mercy over all His
works? Nay, is he not good in Himself? The One Good? Must not God be
The One Good, who is the cause and the fountain of all other goodness in
man, in angels, in all heaven and earth? But if so--what a glorious
Being He must be. Not merely a powerful, not merely a wise, but a
glorious, because perfect, God. Then will he cry, as David cries in this
very psalm--"Oh that men could see that. Oh that men could understand
that. Oh that they would do God justice; and confess His glorious Name.
Oh that He would teach them His Name, and shew them His glory, that they
might be dazzled by the beauty of it, awed by the splendour of it. Oh
that He would gladden their souls by the beatific vision of Himself, till
they loved Him, worshipped Him, obeyed Him, for His own sake; not for
anything which they might obtain from Him, but solely because He is The
perfectly Good. Oh that God would set up Himself above the heavens, and
His glory above all the earth; and that men would lift up their eyes
above the earth, and above the heavens likewise, to God who made heaven
and earth; and would cry--Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory and
honour and power; for Thou hast made all things, and for Thy pleasure
they are and were created; and Thy pleasure is, Peace on Earth, and
Goodwill toward men. Thou art the High and Holy One, who inhabitest
eternity. Yet Thou dwellest with him that is of a contrite spirit, to
revive the heart of the feeble, and to comfort the heart of the contrite.
We adore the glory of Thy power; we adore the glory of Thy wisdom: but
most of all we adore the glory of Thy justice, the glory of Thy
condescension, the glory of Thy love."

And now, friends--almost all friends unknown--and alas! never to be known
by me--you who are to me as people floating down a river; while I the
preacher stand upon the bank, and call, in hope that