_real_ as the finding of a better situation and as satisfying as
promotion in life, then conviction will be carried with the
announcement. And he who, like Andrew, can do little himself, may, by
his simple testimony and honest life, bring to Christ a Simon who may
become a conspicuous power for good. The mother whose influence is
confined to the four walls of her own house may lodge Christian
principle in the heart of a son, who may give it currency in one form or
other to the remotest corner of the earth.

The language in which Andrew announced to Simon his great fortune was
simple, but, in Jewish lips, most pregnant. "We have found the Christ!"
What his people had lived and longed for through all past ages, "_I_
have found" and known. The perfect deliverance and joy which God was to
bring by dwelling with His people, this at last had come. Taught to
believe that all evil and disappointment and thwarting were but
temporary, the Jew had waited for the true life of man--a life in the
presence and favour and fellowship of the Highest. This was to come in
the Messiah, and Andrew had found this. He had entered into life--all
darkness and shadow were gone; the light shone round him, making all
things bright, and piercing into eternity with clear radiance.

The words with which Jesus welcomes Simon are remarkable: "Thou art
Simon, son of John: thou shalt be called Cephas." This greeting yields
its meaning when we recall the character of the person addressed. Simon
was hot-headed, impulsive, rash, unstable. When his name was mentioned
on the Lake of Galilee there rose before the mind a man of generous
nature, frank and good-hearted, but a man whose uncertainty and
hastiness had brought him and his into many troubles, and with whom,
perhaps, it was well to have no very binding connection in trade or in
the family. What must the thoughts of such a man have been when he was
told that the Messiah was present, and that the Messianic kingdom was
standing with open gates? Must he not have felt that this might concern
others,--decent steady men like Andrew,--but not himself? Must he not
have felt that instead of being a strength to the new kingdom he would
prove a weakness? Would not that happen now which so often before had
happened--that any society he joined he was sure to injure with his
hasty tongue or rash hand? Other men might enter the kingdom and serve
it well, but he must remain without.

Coming in this mood, he is greet