ul in the present enjoyment, and know nothing but
sensual good, are broken down by calamity. The sudden change, like a
thunder-gust, puts out their light, and darkens all their life; and it
is they who are apt to fall from the summit of delight into a morbid
gloom; while the Christian, with his balanced soul, inhabits neither
extreme.

Finally, let us remember that it is not the object of sorrow to
overcome, but to elevate; not to conquer us, but that we, by it, should
conquer. It converts the thorns that wound us into a crown. It makes
us strong by the baptism of tears. The saint is always a hero. This
explains that grand distinction between Heathen and Christian art, of
which I spoke in the commencement; that expression of power blended with
agony,--of celestial beatitude refining itself upon the face of grief.
Christianity has made martyrdom sublime, and sorrow triumphant. Christ
is "the Captain of our salvation,"-the leader of "many sons unto glory;"
for he was "a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief."

CHRISTIAN CONSOLATION IN LONELINESS

"And yet I am not alone, because the Father is with me."
John xvi.32.

These words are found in the farewell address of Jesus to his disciples.
They were uttered in the dark hour of coming agony, and in the face of
ignominious death. Because Christ was divinely empowered, and possessed
the spirit without measure, let us not suppose that to him there was no
pain or sorrow, in that great crisis. With all his supernatural dignity,
he appears to us far more attractive when we consider him as impressible
by circumstances,--as moved by human sympathies. He is thus not merely a
teacher, but a pattern for us. In all our trials he not only enables us
to endure and to triumph, but draws us close to himself by the affinity
of his own experience. We see, too, how the best men, men of the
clearest faith, may still look upon death with a shudder, and shrink
from the dark and narrow valley; not because they fear death as such,
but because of the agony of dissolution, the rupture of all familiar
ties, and the solemn mystery of the last change.

But death and suffering, as Jesus was now to meet them, appeared in no
ordinary forms. He was to bear affliction with no friendly consolations
around him; but alone!--alone in the wrestling of the garden, and amid
the cruel mockery. Not upon the peaceful death-bed, but upon the bare
and rugged cross, torn by nails, pierced wit