friendly fidelity and reproof may give mental pain,-acute, severe pain. But the wounds, like those of the surgeon, are necessary, for spiritual health and strength and life, -or, it may be, according to the nature of the case, for temporal comfort and benefit. We have already remarked, that such is the design of our heavenly Father's corrections. His wounds are faithful. They are all in perfect harmony with the promises of His covenant, which are assurances of love. Faithfulness is an attribute of love, and love is an attribute of faithfulness. We can neither be faithful without loving; nor can we love without being faithful. And if we would be affectionately and truly faithful, we must at times wound;—always when there is sin to be reproved.

The antithesis to the faithful wounds of a friend is—“But the kisses of an enemy are deceitful." These are the kisses of one who feigns friendship. We had the character drawn at length in the preceding chapter:-verses 23-26.

Seek you an evidence of the wounds of a friend? You have it in Nathan's faithful execution of his commission to David, when, after his sin in the matter of Uriah, he delivered to him the parable of the ewe-lamb, and then came home upon his slumbering conscience with the emphatic and pointed charge, "Thou art the man!" Would you know how deep and painful the wound which was thus inflicted? Read the fifty-first Psalm. See him there offering to the God whom he had offended the sacrifice of a broken spirit; —and hear him pleading for mercy, and deprecating divine rejection. Ah! the wound went deep. It inflamed and rankled. But how salutary! It was the faithful wounds of the Lord and his prophet that restored his soul, and brought him back to God and to the "joy of his salvation."

And for the kisses of an enemy, look at the conduct of Joab and of Judas-of Joab, when, taking Amasa by the beard to kiss him, he said, "Art thou in health, my brother?" and "smote him under the fifth rib: "—of Judas, when he said to Jesus, "Hail, Master! and kissed him ;" and with the same breath of faithless treachery, turning to the ruffian band-"Take him, and lead him away safely!"

Verse 7. 'The full soul loatheth an honey-comb: but to the hungry soul every bitter thing is sweet." Who has not experienced the truth of these words? When the appetite is fully satisfied, that which otherwise would be most relished. becomes nauseous, and is ordered away. An appetite too that has been pampered,-vitiated and cloyed by luxury and delicacy, is seldom a good one. It has no taste for plain, wholesome, nourishing food; and even the dainties and factitious stimulants to which it has been accustomed lose their effect and leave it craving for something new.-Hunger, on the contrary, gives relish to every thing,—to the plainest, the most homely, and even the most unpleasant fare. What the nice and dainty epicure, or the man of self-indulgence, would turn away from with disgust, is to the poor toil-worn labourer a meal of high enjoyment.

The manna in the wilderness was sweet; "like wafers mixed with honey:"-but the Israelites had plenty of it, and they got dissatisfied with it, and longed for variety,“Our soul," said they, “loatheth this light bread—who will give us flesh to eat?" How different the feelings of the poor, starving prodigal, when "no man gave unto him," and “he was fain to fill his belly with the husks which the swine did eat!"

There is a general principle evidently involved in the proverb. It is this:-that value will be set upon any object, in proportion as the want of it is felt. And this principle applies, with full force, to spiritual as well as to temporal concerns. The proud and self-sufficient, who are full of themselves, and who feed on their self-flatteries, and feel no want, loathe even the rich provision of the gospel feast,"the feast of fat things and wines on the lees, of wines on the lees well refined." They turn away from this heavenfurnished table. There is no spiritual appetite. But when a poor sinner comes to be sensible of his own emptiness— his utter destitution of all that is good, of all that can satisfy his conscience and recommend him to God,-and begins to "hunger and thirst after righteousness," a righteousness which he has not in himself, then nothing but the provision made

by the gospel can satisfy his longing soul. And when he has accepted the free invitation to that feast, to that open table, he finds there the fulfilment of the assurance—“ he shall be filled." And yet he comes to the experience that the viands there provided are such as never cloy the appetite; but only, the more abundantly they are taken, whet it the more. The fuller, the hungrier.

At the same time, in another sense, abundance is apt to engender nicety. We are in danger of thinking lightly of our spiritual enjoyments, and spiritual privileges, because we have them in so great plenty and variety, and of becoming very particular and very nice as to the manner of their being prepared and served up to us. O the difference between this state of things and the eagerness with which little portions of the word of God are received, and occasional passing opportunities of hearing it valued, by those whose means are more stinted than ours! The man who has long fasted, and is starving of hunger, will not think much about the cooking, the seasoning, the dish, or the garnish. Let us "take heed to ourselves," that we do not cherish any such squeamish nicety,―any such spiritual epicurism,—as would blunt our relish for the plain and wholesome truths of the simple gospel. It is on this, after all, that the soul, in its spiritual powers and affections, must become strong; and by these must its vigour be maintained, and its growth in the divine life advanced.

LECTURE LXXXIII.

PROV. XXVII. 8-10.

"As a bird that wandereth from her nest, so is a man that wandereth from his place. Ointment and perfume rejoice the heart; so doth the sweetness of a man's friend by hearty counsel. Thine own friend, and thy father's friend, forsake not; neither go into thy brother's house in the day of thy calamity: for better is a neighbour that is near than a brother far off."

On the first reading of the eighth verse it appears a mere truism. Here are two wanderers. The bird is a wanderer; the man is a wanderer. But surely this cannot be all that is meant. Whatever be understood as meant by a man's "place," the comparison cannot, most assuredly, consist in the mere fact of wandering. There is a manifestly intended reference to the pernicious results in the two cases respectively; of the straying of the bird "from its nest," and the absence of the man 66 from his place."

And again: the "nest" might be regarded as, to the bird itself, the place of rest, repose, tranquillity, comfort, safety. But, although, in this view, there might be points of comparison instituted perfectly just and sufficiently appropriate; it is not, I apprehend, to considerations of this description -considerations of personal ease and convenience and security to the man himself, that the comparison is intended to apply. The nest is, no doubt, a place of warmth, and retirement, of comfort, and safety to the bird, yet it should be borne in mind that these are not the ends for which the nest is built. No bird sets about constructing a nest, as a mere dwelling for itself, to which it may retire, when fatigued

by flight, and lie upon down, and enjoy itself in peaceful and luxurious ease. The nest is built, on the impulse of the wonderful instincts of nature,-instincts implanted by Him, of whom the simple bird knows nothing, but whom those instincts should teach us to adore,-for very different purposes. The nest is the place where the eggs are to be laid; where they are to be warmed and quickened into life; and where the young unfledged progeny are to be lodged, and fed, and protected, and trained to their maturity. Now, in such a comparison as this, we cannot but suppose there is a reference to the purposes for which the nest is constructed. The allusion is doubtless to the period of incubation—to the hatching of the eggs, and the rearing of the young. If the bird "wanders from her nest" during that period, what is the consequence? Why, that the process is frustrated: the eggs lose their vital warmth; they become cold, addled, and unproductive. Absence, even for a very short time, will produce this effect; and produce it to such a degree, that no subsequent sitting, however constant and prolonged, can ever vivify again the extinct principle of vitality. And then, during the period of early training, when the young are dependent on the brooding breast and wing of the parent bird for their warmth, and on the active quickness of the parent bird, as their purveyor, for their sustenance,-desertion is death. If the mother then "wanders from her nest," forsaking for any length of time her callow brood-they perish, the hapless victims of a mother's neglect. They are starved of cold, or they are starved of hunger; or, it may be, their secret retreat is found out by some devouring foe. Such appears to be the apt allusion. Let us now consider to what cases it may with truth and profit be applied.

1. In the first place then, I apply it to a man's HOME. Home may surely be regarded as most appropriately designated "his place." It is there he ought to be; not merely enjoying comfort, but imparting it ;-not the place of selfish ease and indulgence, but of dutiful and useful occupation. He has a charge there,-committed to him, not by the in