That is it," said Bolland. "I don't want to make a parade of it, neither do I want to conceal it."

He then told the whole story of his change, and said, "Now I've resolved, by God's help, to live a new life. There's a good deal, besides, that I have to do; but this is one of the first things I must aim at, to keep down my evil temper, and to be gentle and kind.”

From that day every such annoyance as we have mentioned ceased. By his uniform consistency Bolland gained the respect of the whole shop; and though he scarcely succeeded in persuading all his shopmates to follow his example, his influence was not without its power over many of them.

The change which he thus experienced was not without its temporal good. Long before he would have been made a foreman, but his employers rightly judged that one who had so little control over himself, and who, moreover, could not be depended on for sobriety, was scarcely the man to be entrusted with the control of others. It took some time for him to win a character for steadiness and trustworthiness; but he did win it; and now amongst all their foremen there is not one in whom his employers have greater confidence.

THE WELCOME MESSAGE.*

"Then drew near unto him all the publicans and sinners for to hear him. And the Pharisees and scribes murmured, saying, This man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them."-Luke xv. 1, 2.

We never find the Lord in a house of his own. He lived as a stranger in a strange land. Time was nothing to him, except as the season for doing the work which was given him to do. His thoughts were ever fixed upon eternal things-upon the souls of men-upon the terrors, or the glories of the world to come. No events, no society, no sufferings diverted the mind of Jesus from his work. Eternity was his element. Whether transfigured in the midnight glories of Mount Tabor, or overwhelmed by the deadly sorrows of Gethsemane, his mind was equally occupied by that eternal world whence he came, and whither he was soon to return.

Although the Lord is sitting as a guest at the table of *From "Bible Studies for Family Reading." By the Rev. W. B. Mackenzie. Just published by the Religious Tract Society.

some leading Pharisee, he reproves the other guests for their pride in taking the best places at the feast, and the Pharisee himself for his ostentation in gathering such rich, proud people about him. On his leaving the house, great multitudes went with him, so winning were his society and his words. St. Luke tells us, in this text, what a singular concourse of people was there gathered around the Lord. "All the publicans and sinners "—the very refuse and scum of the people-persons who seldom showed themselves in open daylight, except in some time of public disorder. The Pharisees were moved to indignation by seeing the kind welcome which Jesus gave to these people; and in giving vent to their bad feelings, they uttered a sentiment which embodies the marrow and spirit of the gospel: "This man receiveth sinners."

It seems as if Jerusalem had poured forth the lowest of its population, who issued in streams out of their obscure abodes, to hear a preacher whose irresistible appeals to the heart moved the mass of the population-who spake as never man spake," because he felt for sinners as never man felt: "Then drew near to him all the publicans and sinners for to hear him." Probably Jerusalem had never witnessed such a scene as this. The Lord had often attracted a few such characters among his hearers; but here is a congregation of thieves, sabbath-breakers, drunkards, harlots, revellers in all sorts of crime-the very dregs of outcast humanity. Men and women, whose bold, bad faces one shrinks from encountering, are here met together, first in groups standing at a distance, then, one encouraging another, they draw nearer and nearer, to catch the words of mercy which fell from his gracious lips.

This was altogether a very remarkable circumstance. Our Lord had always addressed his preaching mainly to the poor, and at all times they heard him gladly; but here he seems to have produced a marvellous impression upon the class below the poor, called, now-a-days, the dangerous classes, whom no arm but that of a policeman generally reaches. One wonders how they came to be so attracted. No miracle was wrought among them; no message had been sent specially to them; no disciple had gone into their dwellings to invite them. Still, there they are; the very refuse of a metropolitan populace, gathered together, a well-behaved and attentive audience, listening to the words of Jesus.

Consider, now, the reception they met with. The scribes and Pharisees, offended by the presence of such an assemblage, met them with dark looks and scowling brow, and would have driven them back to their miserable dwellings. When we see crowds of such characters about us, it requires an effort to keep down the risings of that pharisaic pride, which makes us thank God that we are not as other men are. We are apt to forget that their souls are as precious as ours, and that ours are by nature as depraved as theirs. If ever we reach a better world, it must be by the same mercy which can pardon, and cleanse, and keep them just as easily as the best of us.

Perhaps no scene in the Bible history displays the character of Jesus in a more striking way than this. It says all that we want to know, when we are told that "this man receiveth sinners;" it embodies the whole gospel. The marvel of the Pharisees was not merely that any man could be found that showed concern for such wretched outcasts, but that this man should do so. "This man

receiveth sinners."

And man he was when upon earth, and man he is and ever will be, now that he is in heaven; but such a man as the world never beheld the like—so loving to his people— so forgiving to his enemies-so full of sympathy towards the unhappy-so savingly compassionate to the lost. See him meeting the funeral at Nain, drying the tears of one who was a widow indeed.* See him leading the blind man by the hand at Bethsaida.† Hear his words of comfort, when he bade his disciples not to let their hearts be troubled at his departure. See his amazing tenderness towards broken-hearted Peter, who denied him, and Thomas who doubted him. Listen to his own parable of the prodigal son, and remember, that in the character of that tender father, he was describing himself. Think of these things, and then say, can you doubt? can you limit the kindness of that heart which did so freely such things as these? Or can you wonder, that if any hand should be stretched out to receive sinners, "this man" should be the one to do it?

But, though man, and such a man, yet was he more than man. His virgin mother knew that before he was born. Aged Simeon received him in the temple as one who was more than man. The wise men brought presents that + Mark viii.

* Luke vii.

John xiv.

betokened his Godhead. The voice at his baptism declared him to be the Son of God. His sovereign control over the earth, the sea, the air, the sky; his unlimited power over the bodies of men-the living, the diseased, the dead; his perfect knowledge of their thoughts, his dominion over their words and wills, hearts and minds; his power over devils, which they felt and acknowledged with dreadsuch things which meet you at every turn, prove that he is God. He was man, perfect man, the tenderest and gentlest, the most loving of men-a man so full of kindness that one could go and unbosom all one's sins and follies and griefs into his ear, and feel sure that he would not say one upbraiding or condemning word. But even all that is not enough kindness wins the heart; but to redeem the soul from death, to put away sin, to deliver the sinner from the power of indwelling evil, and to present him faultless and unreproveable in the great day-none can do this but he who is "the power of God and the wisdom of God."

"This man receiveth sinners." He came for this purpose. It was no afterthought with him; he had given his word that he would receive them. He knew that none else could redeem their souls. If any sacrifice less than the oblation of the Son of God had been sufficient to make it consistent with the moral government of the world to pardon sinners, one must believe that it would have been accepted. If any other arm could have brought salvation, Christ would have been spared. I must think so. But, when I see him surrounded by the miserable, the profligate, the lost; when I hear his kind words, and gentle invitations, I am reminded of the deep love from which all this sprang ; I know that to show this kindness was the very object for which he came into the world. Yea, before he came, his infinite mind was filled with joy at the prospect of receiving sinners. As soon as sin came into the world, he gave a hope to our first parents that he had thoughts of good towards sinners. Though four thousand years must pass away before the world should see him really come in the flesh, yet he spoke about it by prophets and by fathers "at sundry times and in divers manners," more and more plainly, age after age, until the angels announced his birth, and he actually appeared in the world to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself.

It rejoices my heart to know, that in setting such glorious views before you, I cannot make the invitations too free,

nor open the door too wide. The class of persons whom Jesus had gathered around him when these encouraging words were uttered, shows that sinners of every grade in life, and every dye in sin, may find a welcome in his open arms. Had it been said in the presence of a select few, and they of the better sort, that Christ receiveth sinners, then indeed the broken-hearted and desponding would have said that he came to call the righteous, but he had no smile for them. But when we see that "publicans and sinners" stood in listening crowds, weeping with joy to find that there was mercy even for them, there is no man that ever finds his way into our congregations, how heavy soever be the burden of his sin, but we may look him fully in the face, and say, "Come, thou guilty mourner, and he will receive and pardon even thee!" It is the greatest comfort, in preaching in public, or in visiting the broken-hearted in private, that we go with no doubtful message. There is no doubt as to the power of Christ to save; there is no doubt as to the willingness of Christ to receive. The scribes and Pharisees who spake these words, were grieved at heart as they uttered them, and wished they were untrue. They would fain he had not received sinners at all. But though it was an offence to their pride to see his outstretched arms, and hear his tender words, still they could not but feel that his thoughts were not their thoughts, nor could they help bearing their testimony, though with unwilling and envious lips-"This man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them."

But there is this peculiarity in the matter, that until a man is brought to feel himself a sinner, he does not care about Jesus receiving him at all. The constant aim of the self-righteous part of our people is, to make as little as possible of Christ receiving them; nay, to go about to establish their own righteousness in some way or other, so as to do without Christ altogether, and, thus far, to make Christ to have died in vain. But, whenever God is going to bring any one to receive Christ, the first thing is to open the eyes of his understanding to the unseen realities which beset and imperil his soul. They that are whole need not the physician, but they that are sick. They who feel that they need him, seek him eagerly. When the soul is awakened, and the weight of sin is felt, when the wrath of God begins to burn the conscience, and some drops of the gathering tempest fall, the sinner looks out for shelter.