ets of Baal having been settled, they cried, "The Lord He is God."

Was the voice of the people the voice of God when, in Moses's absence, they required Aaron to make them a golden calf for a god? Or when, led on by the demagogue Demetrius, they shouted, " Great is Diana of the Ephesians ?" Or when, at the instigation of the priests, led blindfold by them they cried, "Crucify Him?”

The politicians of this world eagerly debate the question, how best to secure a fair representation of the people's voice, whether by individuals or by interests fairly balanced ?—a question, doubtless, not to be put aside. But the Christian sees a question deeper far than thes-not how to obtain most fairly an expression of the people's will, but how that will shall truly represent the will of God. There is no other question at last than this.

And we shall attain this, not by nicely balancing interest against interest, much less by manoeuvring or by cunningly devised expedient, to defeat the cause which we believe the wrong one; but by each doing all that in him lies to rouse himself and others to a high sense of responsibility.

It is a noble thought, that of every elector going to vote, as these men did, for the Church, for the people, for God, and for the right, earnestly anxious that he and others should do right.

Else-to speak humanly-this was an appeal to chance. and not to God; and every election, by ballot or by suf frage, is else an appeal to chance.

All, therefore, depends upon the spirit in which the election is conducted.

What constitutes the difference between an appeal to God and an appeal to chance?

III. The Spirit.

1. A religious spirit. "They prayed and said, Thou, Lord, which knowest the hearts of all men, show whether of these two Thou hast chosen." Now, we shall be met here at once by an objection. This was a religious work-the selection of an apostle; but the choice of a representative is not a religious work, only a secular one.

Here we come, therefore, to the very pith and marrow of the whole question. The distinction between religious and secular is true in a sense, but as we make it, it is false. It is not the occupation, but the spirit which makes the difference. The election of a bishop may be a most secular thing. The election of a representative may be a religious thing St.

Paul taught that nothing is profane. Sanctified by the Word of God and prayer, St. Peter learned that nothing is common or unclean.

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[Many relics remain to us from our religious forefathers indicative of this truth: Grace before meals; Dei gratia or coins of the realms; "In the name of God," at the commence ment of wills, oaths in court of justice; prayers in universi‹ ties before election of scholars all proclaim that the sim plest acts of our domestic and political life are sacred or profane according to the spirit in which they are performed; not in the question whether they are done for the State or the Church, but whether with God or without God.]

Observe: it is not the preluding such an election with public prayer that would make it a religious act. It is religious so far as each man discharges his part as a duty and solemn responsibility.

If looked on in this spirit by the higher classes, would the debauchery and the drunkenness which are fostered by rich men of all parties among the poor for their own purposes, be possible? Would they, for the sake of one vote, or a hundred votes, brutalize their fellow-creatures?

2. It is implied in this, that it must be done conscientiously.

Each Christian found himself in possession of a new right -that of giving a vote or casting a lot.

Like all rights, it was a duty. He had not a right to do what he liked. His right was only the duty of doing right. And if any one had swayed him to support the cause of Barnabas or that of Matthias on any motives except this one "You ought "-he had so far injured his conscience.

The conscience of man is a holy, sacred thing. The worst of crimes is to injure a human conscience. Better kill the body. Remember how strongly St. Paul speaks, "When ye sin so against the brethren, and wound their weak conscience, ye sin against Christ." And that sin, remember, consisted in leading them to do a thing which, though right in itself, they thought wrong.

Now there is an offense against the laws of the State which all men agree in treating with a smile.

My brethren, bribery is a sin-a sin against God. because a particular law has been made against it, but because it lowers the sense of personal responsibility, blunts the conscience, dethrones the God within the man's soul, and erects selfishness, and greed, and interest, in His stead. And

whether you do it directly or indirectly-directly by giving, indirectly by withdrawing, assistance or patronage-you sin against Christ.

3. It was not done from personal interest.

There were two candidates, Barnabas and Matthias. Now if the supporters of these two had been influenced chiefly by such considerations as blood-relationship, or the chance of favor and promotion, manifestly a high function would have been degraded.

In secular matters, howeyer, we do not judge so. A man generally decides according to his professional or his personal interests. You know almost to a certainty beforehand which way a man will vote, if you know his profession. If a man be a farmer, or a clergyman, or a merchant, you can pretty surely guess on which side he will range himself.

Partly, no doubt, this is involuntary-the result of those prejudices which attach to us all from association. But it is partly voluntary. We know that we are thinking not of the general good, but of our own interests. And thus a farmer would think himself justified in looking at a question simply as it affected his class, and a noble as it affected his caste, and a working-man as it bore upon the workingclasses.

Brethren, we are Christians. Something of a principle higher than this ought to be ours. What is the law of the cross of Christ? The sacrifice of the One for the whole, the cheerful surrender of the few for the many. Else, what do we more than others?

These are fine words-patriotism, public principle, purity. Be sure these words are but sentimental expressions, except as they spring out of the cross of Christ.

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Application.

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I have endeavored to keep entirely unseen my own politi cal views. I may have failed, but not voluntarily.

Remember, in conclusion, the matter of paramount importance to be decided this week is, not whether a preponderance shall be insured for one of the great parties which divide the country or the other. That is important, but it is secondary. The important thing to be devoutly wished is, that each man shall give his vote as these men did-conscientiously, religiously, unselfishly, lovingly.

Better that he should support the wrong cause conscientiously than the right one insincerely. Better be a truc man on the side of wrong, than a false man on the side of right.

XIII.

ISAAC BLESSING HIS SONS.

"And it came to pass, that when Isaac was old, and his eyes were dim, so that he could not see, he called Esau his eldest son, and said unto him, My son and he said unto him, Behold, here am I. And he said, Behold now, I am old, I know not the day of my death: now therefore take, I pray thee, thy weapons, thy quiver and thy bow, and go out to the field, and take me some venison; and make me savory meat, such as I love, and bring it to me, that I may eat; that my soul may bless thee before I die."-Gen. xxvii. 1-4.

IN chapter XXV. we find Abraham preparing for death by a last will making Isaac his heir, and providing for his other children by giving them gifts while he yet lived, and so sending them out into the world. In this chapter, the heir himself is preparing to die. The rapidity with which these chapters epitomize life, bringing its few salient points together, is valuable as illustrative of what human existence is. It is a series of circles intersecting each other, but going on in a line. A few facts comprise man's life. A birth-a marriage-another birth-a baptism-a will-and then a funeral: and the old circle begins again.

Isaac is about to declare his last will. It is a solemn act, in whatever light we view it, if it were only for the thought that we are writing words which will not be read till we are gone. But it is solemn, too, because it is one of those acts which tell of the immortal. First, in the way of prophetic prescience. Is it not affecting to think of a human being, not sick, nor in pain, with his natural force unabated, calmly sitting down to make arrangements for what shall be when he is in his last long sleep? But the act of an immortal is visible also in that a dead man rules the world, as it were, long after his decease. Being dead, in a sense he yet speaketh. He is yet present with the living. His existence is protracted beyond its natural span. His will is law. This is a kind of evidence of his immortality: for the obedience of men to what he has willed is a sort of recognition of his present being.

Isaac was not left without warnings of his coming end. These warnings came in the shape of dimness of eyes and failing of sight. You can conceive a state in which man should have no warnings: and instead of gradual decay, should drop suddenly, without any intimation, into eternity. Such an arrangement might have been. But God has in

mercy provided reminders. For we sleep in this life of ours a charmed sleep, which it is hard to break. And if the road were of unbroken smoothness, with no jolt or shock, or unevenness in the journey, we should move swiftly on, nothing breaking the dead slumber till we awake suddenly, like the rich man in the parable, lifting up our eyes in heaven or in hell. Therefore God has given these reminders. Some of them regular-such as failing of sight, falling out of hair, decay of strength, loss of memory-which are as stations in the journey, telling us how far we have travelled: others irregular such as come in the form of sickness, bereavement, pain-like sudden shocks which jolt, arouse, and awaken. Then the man considers, and like Isaac, says, "Behold, I am old, I know not the day of my death." We will considerI. Isaac's preparation for death.

II. The united treachery of Jacob and Rebekah.

The re

I. Isaac's preparation for death. First, he longed for the performance of Esau's filial kindness as for a last time. Esau was his favorite son: not on account of any similarity between them, but just because they were dissimilar. pose, and contemplativeness, and inactivity of Isaac found a contrast in which it rested, in the energy and even the recklessness of his first-born. It was natural to yearn for the feast of his son's affection for the last time. For there is something peculiarly impressive in whatever is done for the last time. Then the simplest acts contract a kind of sacredness. The last walk in the country we are leaving. The last time a dying man sees the sun set. The last words of those from whom we have parted, which we treasure up as more than accidental, almost prophetic. The winding up of a watch, as the last act at night. The signature of a will. In the life of Him in whom we find every feeling which belongs to unperverted humanity, the same desire is found: a trait, therefore, of the heart which is universal, natural, and right. "With desire I have desired to eat this passover with you before I suffer. For I say unto you, I will not drink henceforth of the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father's kingdom." It was the Last Supper.

2. By making his last testamentary dispositions. Appar ently they were premature, but he did not defer them: partly because of the frailty of life, and the uncertainty whether there may be any to-morrow for that which is put off to-day: partly, perhaps, because he desired to have all earthly thoughts done with and put away. Isaac lived thirty or forty years