and alleys, the dim recesses of the Liberties, haunts along the quays, purlieus of ancient churches. Here, dwellings, cellars, that reeked with every polluting abomination: swarms of dirt-stained children-children, O God, that had never heard the birds sing, seen the flowers blow, the brooks leap, or the grass green! Here, too, I had to learn that there was a deeper misery than that which met the day misery that shunned exposure; and withal, midst this infamous destitution, sacrifices to the dearest charities of life-sacrifices no tongue could tell, no pen recount-sacrifices unheeded, unknown, and that never should be known, till declared by the trump of angels in eternity!

-

THE SERMON.

I WAS to deliver my first sermon; the lady Cornelia and her sweet daughter were there, the noble Cornelius also. They would honour their friend by being among his auditors.

The text on which I had chosen to dilate, was from John, "A new commandment give I

unto you, t that you love one another."

Brothers, friends, you hear these words! Ere eighteen hundred years, they fell from holy lips in that beautiful and still unforgotten tongue, and yet so glorious vehicle of immortal truth. Love one another: even so, O Lord! The parent was not to love her child merely; the child, the mother that bore him; brother to love brother; sister, sister; friend, friend; no, each was to love the other; each, all; and all, each. We were to be as brothers, indeed, as dear friends!

Yet, O God, just and merciful! Ye who

pause with me a moment on this perishing earth, how have we sustained this commandment? Do we love the poor indeed, the outcast,

for they too are brethren? Is it to love when we suffer little children, scant of food, shelter, raiment, to herd shivering, wretched, on the highways and byeways of the world? Is it love to tear each other with the iron implements of war to be as demons of destruction in place of messengers of peace, representatives of the infinite mercies of God?

Does the inmate of yonder gaol know of love; or he who expiates to-morrow a miserable career by a still more miserable close? Does the harlot know of love she, whose young existence is steeped in impurities, brutalities for which there is no name?

Brothers, there is not enough love. The mercies and charities of existence fall with unequal shower. Ah no, every child must be

cared for, every sufferer comforted, ere we can be said to love. No, we do not sufficiently heed our fellows; our hearts are not steeped in affection's precious dew; we do not act up to the bidding that has been given us in a word,

we do not love!

Of a surety, love affords the highest, best of all impulses. Truly uncalculating, it seeks but the welfare, the unconditional welfare, of its object. It is love, but in no limited, unworthy sense. It is not even the sacred preference of the sexes. It is a boundless, an unsparing regard, submitting to every sacrifice, obeying every call for the sake of the regeneration and salvation of the redeemable soul of man - that

seeks the food, not of mortal, but immortal life

not the food which perishes, but that which endures for ever-undying hope, purity infinite, even love eternal!

Let us thrust aside the narrow boundaries of

sect and party; it is humanity we are to honour, not the creed of the hour. We are to love our neighbour as ourselves— that neighbour whether rich or poor, of good report or ill, whatever his calling or profession of faith; for love soars beyond human distinctions, or place or space. It seeks the universal, the infinite; it would help its object over the bridge of time and through the valley of tears, to emerge a denizen at last of blessed eternity.

God of mercy, why do we pause? What is asked of us? Is it gold - our precious, and yet why precious, lives? Can life be fitlier spent than in doing well, in the acquisition of noblest hopes, priceless aspirings? These are the possessions that perish not-for, O friends, brothers, it is not as we live alone, but as we die, that we are to be measured. Let us turn then unto life, to a loftier hope; let us cease to be of the body merely, but of the spirit, for we carry