the highest man in the realm, who had all eyes fastened on him, and many tongues ready to deride and laugh at him, to Jesus, the carpenter's son, Jesus of Nazareth, because he, and he alone, could cure and restore his child.

Our Lord at first seemed to repulse and drive him away; but at the very time that he seemed to reject him, he was preparing to do what he requested. This teaches us another lesson-that we are not to suppose that Christ withholds an answer to our prayer because he does not answer that prayer always in the way that we wish. Christ answered the nobleman's prayer, but not in the way that the nobleman expected. So will he do with us. We hear the noise of what we think an approaching doom, and lo! it is the first tones of that sweet and beautiful voice which rang so musically amid the storm of old, "Be of good cheer; it is I, be not afraid." We see the cloud, dark and black and ominous, and we fancy it is the chariot of the judgments of the Lord; but lo! it is only sweeping past to disclose to us a brighter sun, and to allow us to bathe in the beams of a balmier and a better day. For Christ immediately added, "Go thy way, thy son liveth." What was true then is so now. Christ's word spoken at Cana provoked its echo at Capernaum; sickness recognised in it the healer of diseases, fled from his victim, and left this memorial in its flight, "Truly this was the Son of God." Christ is now in his holy place, and we are upon the earth; but if his word could travel five miles, and heal that nobleman's son on that distant sick-bed, the same word can travel from his throne in the loftiest heaven, cleave its way, unspent in its transit, unweakened by the distance, and go into the sick man's heart, into the dead man's grave, into the guilty man's conscience, and into the sad home's loneliness, and into the matron's agony, and leave on the place that it strikes the first flower of Paradise

regained, and kindle in the heart that it visits the first rays of the everlasting day. His arm is not shortened, that it cannot save; his word is not less mighty, that it cannot still comfort. He is what he was. There is a connecting and transmissive wire between heaven and earth; there is a communication with the skies and with us. Let us rejoice that it is thus; and let us feel that along that electric wire that knits the heart of our Redeemer to us his children, there travel instantly all his sympathies down to sanctify us, and all our prayers up to receive an answer exceedingly abundantly above all that we can ask, or think, or desire.

What adds to the glory of this miracle performed by our Lord is this-the nobleman was brought to Christ by the sickness of his child. We find that the miracle had a double effect. The same word that cured the sickness of the son, cured the skepticism of the father, for it is added, "And the nobleman believed." This teaches us the great lesson, that no man ever interests himself in the welfare of another without receiving a reflex blessing in doing so. I have read of a mother who waited upon a parish minister in Scotland, and who, on sceking admission to the Lord's table, complained that she could not pray. The minister said to her, "You have an only child, who is in delicate health, (which was the fact,) go home and pray for that child, and come to me next week." She went home and prayed as directed, and when she went to the minister the next week, she said, "I have been praying for my child, and in doing so, I have learned to pray for myself." It will be so with you; if you try to do good to others, you will find the good done chiefly to yourself; if you will go and teach in a Sunday-school, you will find you will be taught richly and distinctively yourself; if you will feed the hungry, clothe the naked, minister to the wants and necessities of the poor, you will find a reflex influence that

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will make you feel more happy, and find yourself vastly more rich. It is God's great law, that in watering others we shall be watered ourselves. Who are the happiest men Always the busiest men. We shall find that the reason of all that miserable feeling which people do not know how to get over, and which leads them to play-houses, operas, balls, and all the "broken cisterns" which the world can supply, is just because they are doing nothing good. Begin to do good, and you will begin to be happy. It is God's great ordinance, and man cannot reverse it. I have read of one who in despair and under derangement had resolved to commit suicide by drowning himself—and no man ever does so who is not deranged, and whose responsi bility, therefore, has ceased-and as he went to do so, he met a poor miserable woman in rags, who begged a halfpenny from him. Instead of that, he gave her sixpence. Her face glowed with delight, and she thanked him in such terms that it went to the very depths of the man's heart. "Surely," said he, "if I can be the means of creating such happiness in one human being, God has something more for me to do." And this was the means of saving his life. Learn then to be beneficent men, not merely benevolent men. We have plenty of benevolent people, who wish well; but what we want is beneficent people, who do well, who carry their wishes out into practical operation. I say, God's great law is, that we shall find happiness in doing good. The happiest people are the people who abound most in good works. I think I have told you that all the words in our language that convey happiness, mean coming out of self, doing something for others: transport," to

be carried beyond one's self; "ecstasy," standing out of one's self, and the like: every word denoting the intensest happiness, denotes that which is the most self-sacrificing, doing good for the love of others.

I may notice also one thing remarkable in this miracle; namely, a point of contrast between it and an analogous miracle, related in Matt. viii.: "And when Jesus was entered into Capernaum, there came unto him a centurion beseeching him, and saying, Lord, my servant lieth at home sick of the palsy, grievously tormented. And Jesus saith unto him, I will come and heal him. The centurion answered and said, Lord, I am not worthy that thou shouldest come under my roof: but speak the word only, and my servant shall be healed." Notice here the contrast. The nobleman came and asked Christ to come to his house and heal his son, believing that unless he personally came, his son could not be healed. This centurion, a very much humbler person, came to our Lord, saying, Speak the word only, you need not come, and my servant shall be healed. Jesus in the one case spoke the word where he was asked to come, but did not come; in the other case he came, where he was asked only to speak the word. Is there any lesson taught in this distinction? It may be this perhaps that little faith, as in the case of the nobleman, was invigorated into great faith by Jesus not going as he wanted him; and in the case of the centurion, his humility was deepened by Jesus condescending to come when he only asked him to speak the word. Perhaps also this lesson was to be taught us, that Christ is no accepter of persons; and this is not the least beautiful feature in it. A nobleman asks the Son of God to come and heal his son, his heir; a duke asks him to come and heal a marquis. Our Lord does not go, but speaks the word. A poor sergeant in the army, a non-commissioned officer, asks him to speak only, and heal his domestic servant, and Jesus visits that servant on the sick-bed. This precious lesson is thereby taught, that the house of God ought to be, as I trust it will be, a sequestered nook-sequestered from ambition and conflict, from

frivolity and folly, in which the rich and the poor shall meet together, and feel that the Lord is the Maker of them all. I do not like to see a congregation of aristocrats merely, and I do not like to see a congregation of ragged people merely; I love to see the greatest aristocrat of the land and the humblest beggar from the streets listening to the same gospel, hearing the same truths, and made to feel that they have points of identity lasting like the stars, but points of distinction evanescent as the morning dew. So our Lord taught that in the house of God, as in the grave, there should be no distinction of persons.

We notice next the interesting fact, that the servants rushed forth to tell their master the joyful news that his son was healed. I like this trait; the servants did not feel, as they are too much taught to feel in this commercial capital, that they are hired to do so much work, and when they have done this work to think there is not a point of contact with the family besides. These servants sympathized with the nobleman; they felt that his joy was their joy, his happiness their happiness, and his interest their interest.

The nobleman, not expecting an instant cure, asked the question-and this brings out the exquisite truth of the narrative-at what hour his son began to amend. He expected the cure would be, like all other cures, a gradual and progressive one. When the servants informed him, however, he learned that Christ had answered his prayer far above what he thought. His query was, "When did he begin to amend?" The joyful answer was, "The fever left him." And he found, on comparing notes, that it was at the very same hour at which Jesus said, "Go thy way, thy son liveth." Before, he believed in the possibility of a special act; now, he believes in Christ his glorious Saviour; and not only himself but his whole house believed.