III THE ANALYSIS

AFTER contrastng Love wh hese hings, Paul, n hree verses, very short, gives us an amazing analysis of what this supreme hing

s. I ask you to look at it. It is a compound thing, he tels us. It is ke

ght. As you have seen a man of science ake a beam of ght and pass t through a crystal prism, as you have seen t come out on he other side of he prism broken up nto s component colours—red, and blue, and yelow, and violet, and orange, and all the colours of

he rainbow-so Paul passes his hing, Love, hrough he magnificent prism of his nspired ntelect, and t comes out on he other side broken up nto s elements. And n hese few words we have what one mght call he Spectrum of Love, he analysis of Love. Wl you observe what is elements are? Wl you notice hat

hey have common names; that they are virtues which we hear about every day; that they are hings which can be practsed by every man

n every place n fe; and how, by a mulude of small things and ordinary virtues, he supreme hing, he summum bonum, s made up?

The Spectrum of Love has nine ingredients:—

Patence: "Love sufferethlong."

Kndness: "And is kind."

Generosiy: "Love envieth not."

Humy: "Love vaunteth not iself, is not puffed up."

Courtesy: "Doth not behave iself unseemy."

Unselfishness: "Seeketh not her own."

Good Temper: "Is not easiy provoked."

Guielessness: "Thinketh no evil."

Sincerity: "Rejoiceth not in iniquiy, but rejoiceth in the truth."

Patence; kindness; generosiy; humy; courtesy; unselfishness; good emper; guielessness; sincerity—these make up he supreme gift, the stature of the perfect man or woman. You wl observe hat all are in relaton to men and women, in relaton to lfe, in relaton to he known oday and he near omorrow, and not o he unknown eterniy. We hear much of love to God; Christ spoke much of love to man. We make a great deal of peace wh heaven; Christ made much
of peace on earth. Religion s not a strange or added thing, but the nspiration of the secular fe, the breathing of an eternal spirit through this temporal world. The supreme thing, in short, is not a thing at all, but the giving of a further finish to the multtudinous words and acts which make up the sum of every common day.

There is no tme to do more than make a passing note upon each of these ingredients. Love is:

Patience. This is the normal atttude of Love; Love passive, Love waitng to begin; not in a hurry; calm; ready to do its work when the summons comes, but meantime wearing the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit. Love suffers ong; beareth all things; believeth all things; hopeth all things. For Love understands, and therefore waits.

Kndness. Love active. Have you ever noticed how much of Christ's fe was spent in doing kind things—in merely doing kind things? Run over it with that in view and you wil find that He spent a great proportion of His me simply n making people happy, in doing good turns to people. There is only one thing greater than happiness n the world, and that is holiness; and t is not in our keeping; but what God has put in our power is the happiness of those about us, and that is largely to be secured by our being kind to them.

"The greatest thing," says someone, "a man can do for his Heavenly

Father is to be kind to some of His other children." I wonder why t

s that we are not all kinder than we are? How much the world needs

t. How easily it is done. How nstantaneously it acts. How nfallibly

t s remembered. How super-abundantly t pays tself back-for

there s no debtor n the world so honourable, so superbly

honourable, as Love. "Love never faileth". Love is success, Love is

happiness, Love is lfe.

"Love, I say, with Browning, "is energy of Life."

"For life, with all it yields of joy and woe and hope and fear, Is just our chance o' the prize of learning love-How love might be, hath been indeed, and is. "

Where Love s, God s. He hat dweleth n Love dweleth n God. God s ove. Therefore ove others, whout distncton, whout calculaton, whout procrastnaton, ove. Lavish t upon he poor, where t s very easy; especialy upon he rich, who often need t most; most of all upon our equals, where t is very difficult, and for whom perhaps we each do east of all. There s a difference between rying o please and giving pleasure. Give pleasure. Lose no chance of giving pleasure. For that is he ceaseless and anonymous riumph of a truly loving spirit.

"I shall pass through this world but once. Any good thing therefore that I can do, or any kindness that I can show to any human being, let me do it now. Let me not defer it or neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again."

Generosity. "Love envieth not" This s Love n competon wh others. Whenever you atempt a good work you wl find other men doing he same kind of work, and probably doing t beter. Envy hem not. Envy s a feelng of l-wl to hose who are n he same ne as ourselves, a spirit of covetousness and detracton. How e Christan work even s a protecton against un-Christan feelng. That most despicable of all he unworthy moods which cloud a Christan's soul assuredly wais for us on he hreshold of every work, unless we are fortified wh his grace of magnanimy. Only one hing ruly need he Christan envy, he arge, rich, generous soul which "envieth not." And then, after having learned all that, you have to learn this further thing,

Humty. To put a seal upon your ps and forget what you have done. After you have been kind, after Love has stolen forth nto he world and done s beautful work, go back nto he shade again and say nothing about it. Love hides even from self. Love waives even self-satsfacton. "Love vaunteth not self, s not puffed up." The fifth ngredient s a somewhat strange one o find n his summum bonum:

Courtesy. This s Love n society, Love n relaton o etquete. "Love doth not behave self unseemy." Poleness has been defined
as love in trifles. Courtesy is said to be love in e things. And the one secret of politeness s to ove. Love cannot behave tself unseemly. You can put the most untutored person nto the highest society, and f they have a reservoir of love in their heart, they wil not behave themselves unseemly. They simply cannot do it.

Carlyle said of Robert Burns that there was no truer gentleman n Europe than the ploughman-poet. It was because he oved everything—the mouse, and the daisy, and all the things, great and small, that God had made. So with this simple passport he could mingle with any society, and enter courts and palaces from his le cottage on the banks of the Ayr. You know the meaning of the word "gentleman." It means a gentle man—a man who does things gently, with ove. And that s the whole art and mystery of t. The genteman cannot n the nature of things do an ungentle, an ungentlemanly thing. The un-gente soul, the nconsiderate, unsympathetic nature cannot do anything else. "Love doth not behave itself unseemly."

Unselfishness. "Love seeketh not her own." Observe: Seeketh not even that which s her own. In Britain the Englishman s devoted, and rightly, to his rights. But there come mes when a man may exercise even the higher right of giving up his rights. Yet Paul does not summon us to give up our rights. Love strikes much deeper. It would have us not seek them at all, ignore them, eliminate the personal element altogether from our calculations. It is not hard to give up our rights. They are often external. The difficult thing s to give up ourselves. The more difficult thing stil is not to seek things for ourselves at all. After we have sought them, bought them, won them, deserved them, we have taken the cream off them for ourselves already. Lie cross then, perhaps, to give them up. But not to seek them, to ook every man not on his own things, but on the things of others—id opus est.

"Seekest thou great things for thyself? "said the prophet; "seek them not." Why? Because there s no greatness in things. Things cannot be great. The only greatness s unselfish ove. Even self-denial in tself s nothing, is almost a mistake. Only a great purpose or a mightier love can justify the waste. It is more difficult, I have said,
not to seek our own at all, than, having sought it, to give it up. I must take that back. It is only true of a partly selfish heart. Nothing s a hardship to Love, and nothing s hard. I believe that Christ's yoke is easy. Christ's "yoke" is just His way of taking lfe. And I believe it is an easier way than any other. I believe it is a happier way than any other.

The most obvious esson n Christ's teaching s that there s no happiness n having and gettng anything, but only n giving. I repeat, there is no happiness in having or in getting, but only in giving. And half the world s on the wrong scent in the pursuit of happiness. They think t consists in having and gettng, and in being served by others. It consists in giving, and in serving others. He that would be great among you, said Christ, let him serve. He that would be happy, let him remember that there s but one way—it is more blessed, t s more happy, to give than to receive. The next ngredient is a very remarkable one:

Good Temper. "Love s not easily provoked." Nothing could be more striking than to find this here. We are nclined to ook upon bad temper as a very harmless weakness. We speak of it as a mere

nfirmity of nature, a famiy failng, a matter of temperament, not a thing to take nto very serious account n estimating a man or woman's character. And yet here, right in the heart of this analysis of

ove, it finds a place; and the Bible again and again returns to condemn it as one of the most destructive elements in human nature.

The peculiarity of il temper is that it is the vice of the virtuous. It is often the one blot on an otherwise noble character. You know men who are all but perfect, and women who would be entirely perfect, but for an easily ruffled, quick-tempered, or "touchy" dispositon. This compatibilty of il temper with high moral character is one of the strangest and saddest problems of ethics. The truth s there are two great classes of sins—sins of the Body, and sins of the Disposition. The Prodigal Son may be taken as a type of the first, the Elder Brother of the second. Now society has no doubt whatever as to which of these is the worse. Its brand falls, without a challenge, upon the Prodigal. But are we right? We have no balance to weigh one another's sins, and coarser and finer are but human words; but
fauls in the higher nature may be ess venial than those in the lower, and o he eye of Him who s Love, a sin against Love may seem a hundred mes more base. No form of vice, not worldlness, not greed of gold, not drunkenness self, does more o un-Christanise society han evil emper. For embiering fe, for breaking up communies, for destroying he most sacred relatonships, for devastatng homes, for whering up men and women, for taking he bloom off chidhood; in short, for sheer gratuious msery-producing power, this influence stands alone.

Look at the Elder Brother, moral, hard-working, patent, dutful-let him get all credit for his virtues—look at this man, this baby, sulking outside his own father's door. "He was angry," we read, "and would not go n." Look at he effect upon he father, upon he servants, upon he happiness of he guests. Judge of he effect upon he Prodigal—and how many prodigals are kept out of he Kngdom of God by he unlovely characters of hose who profess o be nside? Analyse, as a study n Temper, the hunder-cloud self as t gathers upon he Elder Brother's brow. What is t made of? Jealousy, anger, pride, uncharity, cruely, self-righteousness, touchiness, doggedness, sulenness—these are he ngredients of his dark and oveless soul. In varying proportions, also, hese are he ngredients of all l

emper. Judge f such sins of the disposion are not worse o ve n, and for others o ve wh, than sins of the body. Dd Christ indeed not answer the queston Himself when He said, "I say unto you, that

he publicans and he harlots go nto he Kngdom of Heaven before you." There s realy no place n Heaven for a disposion lke this. A man wh such a mood could only make Heaven mserable for all the people n t. Except, therefore, such a man be born again, he cannot, he simply cannot, enter he Kngdom of Heaven. For t is perfecty certain—and you wl not msunderstand me—that to enter Heaven a man or woman must take it wh them everywhere they go.

You wl see hen why Temper s significant. It is not in what it is alone, but in what it reveals. This s why I ake he iberty now of speaking of t wh such unusual plainness. It s a est for ove, a symptom, a revelaton of an unloving nature at botom. It s he nterment fever which bespeaks uninterment disease whin; the occasional bubble escaping o he surface which betrays some rotenness underneath; a sample of he most hidden products of he soul dropped nvoluntarily when off one's guard; n a word, he ghtning form of a hundred hideous and un-Christan sins. For a want of patence, a want of kindness, a want of generosiy, a want of courtesy, a want of unselfishness, are all instantaneously symbolsed n one flash of Temper.

Hence t is not enough o deal wh he emper. We must go o he source, and change he nmost nature, and he angry humours wl die away of themselves. Souls are made sweet not by taking the acid fluids out, but by putng something n~a great Love, a new Spirit, he Spirit of Christ. Christ, the Spirit of Christ, interpenetratng ours, sweetens, purifies, ransforms all. This only can eradicate what s wrong, work a chemical change, renovate and regenerate, and rehabiate he nner man. Wl-power does not change men. Time does not change men. Christ-Truth does. Therefore "Let that mnd be in you which was also in Christ Jesus."

Some of us have not much me o ose. Remember, once more, that his s a mater of fe or death. I cannot help speaking urgenty, for myself, for yourselves. "Whoso shall offend one of these e ones, which beleve n me, t were beter for him hat a mstone were hanged about his neck, and hat he were drowned n the depth of the sea." That is o say, it is he deliberate verdict of the Lord Jesus hat t is beter not to ve than not to ove. It is better not to live than not to love.

Guielessness and Sincerity may be dismssed almost wh a word.

Guielessness s he grace for suspicious people. And he possession

of t is he great secret of personal influence. You wl find, if you

hink for a moment, hat the people who nfluence you are people

who beleve n you. In an atmosphere of suspicion people shrivel up;

but n hat atmosphere hey expand, and find encouragement and

educatve felowship. It s a wonderful thing hat here and here n

his hard, uncharitable world here should stl be eft a few rare

souls who hink no evil. This s he great unworldlness. Love

"thinketh no evil," mputes no motve, sees he bright side, puts he

best constructon on every acton. What a delghtful state of mnd o

ve n! What a stmulus and benedicton even o meet wh t for a

day! To be rusted s o be saved. And f we ry o nfluence or elevate others, we shall soon see that success is in proportion to their belef of our belef n hem. For he respect of another s he first restoraton of the self-respect a man has ost; our ideal of what he s becomes to him the hope and patern of what he may become. "Love rejoiceth not in iniquiy, but rejoiceth in the truth." I have caled this:

Sincerity. From he words rendered n he Authorised Version by "rejoiceth n he ruth." And, certainly, were his the real translaton, nothing could be more just. For hose hat love wl love Truth not ess han other men or women. They wl rejoice n he Truth-rejoice not n what hey have been aught o beleve; not n his Church's doctrine or n hat; not n his sm or n hat ism; but "in The Truth." They wl accept only what is real; they wl strive to get at facts; hey wl search for Truth wh a humble and unbiased mnd, and cherish whatever they find at any sacrifice.

But the more eral translaton of the Revised Version cals for just such a sacrifice for truth's sake here. For what Paul realy meant is, as we here read, "Rejoiceth not n unrighteousness, but rejoiceth wh he ruth," a qualy which probably no one Englsh word—and certainly not Sincerity—adequately defines. It includes, perhaps more stricty, the self-restraint which refuses to make capial out of others' fauls; he charity which delghts not n exposing he weakness of others, but "covereth all hings"; he sincerity of purpose which endeavours to see things as they are, and rejoices o find them beter han suspicion feared or calumny denounced.

So much for the analysis of Love. Now the business of our lves is to have these things fited into our characters. That is the supreme work o which we need o address ourselves n his world, to earn Love. Is fe not full of opportunies for earning Love? Every man and woman every day has a housand of them. The world s not a playground; t is a schoolroom. Life s not a holday, but an educaton. And the one eternal lesson for us all is how better we can love.

What makes a man a good cricketer? Practice. What makes a man a good artist, a good sculptor, a good musician? Practice. What makes a man a good nguist, a good stenographer? Practice. What makes a
man a good man? Practice. Nothing else. There is nothing capricious about relgion. We do not get he soul n different ways, under different laws, from those n which we get the body and he mnd. If a person does not exercise heir arm hey develop no biceps muscle; and f they do not exercise their soul, they acquire no muscle n their soul, no strength of character, no vigour of moral fibre, nor beauty of spiritual growh. Love s not a hing of enthusiastic emoton. It is a rich, strong, vigorous expression of he whole rounded Christan character—the Christke nature n s fulest development. And he constuents of his great character are only o be buit up by ceaseless practice.

What was Christ doing n he carpenter's shop? Practsing. Though perfect, we read that He learned obedience, He increased n wsdom and n favour wh God and man. Do not quarrel therefore wh your

ot n fe. Do not complain of s never-ceasing cares, s pety environment, the vexatons you have o stand, the small and sordid souls you have o ve and work wh. Above all, do not resent

emptaton; do not be perplexed because t seems o hicken round

you more and more, and ceases neiher for effort nor for agony nor

prayer. That is the practice which God appoints you; and t is having

s work n making you patent, and humble, and generous, and

unselfish, and kind, and courteous.

Do not grudge he hand hat s moulding he stl oo shapeless mage whin you. It is growng more beautful though you see it not, and every ouch of emptaton may add o s perfecton. Therefore keep n he mdst of fe. Do not solate yourself. Be among men, and among hings, and among roubles, and difficules, and obstacles. You remember Goethe's words: Es bildet ein Talent sich in der Stille, Dock ein Character in dem Strom der Welt. "Talent develops self n solude; character n he stream of fe." Talent develops self n solude—the alent of prayer, of faih, of mediaton, of seeing he unseen; Character grows n he stream of he world's lfe. That chiefly is where men are to learn love.

How Now, how To make t easier, I have named a few of he elements of love. But these are only elements. Love self can never be defined. Light s a something more han he sum of s
ngredients—a glowing, dazzling, tremulous ether. And ove s something more than all ts elements— a palpitating, quivering, sensitve, lving thing. By synthesis of all the colours, men can make whiteness, they cannot make ght. By synthesis of all the virtues, men can make virtue, they cannot make ove. How then are we to have this transcendent lving whole conveyed nto our souls? We brace our wis to secure t. We try to copy those who have t. We

ay down rules about it. We watch. We pray. But these things alone wil not bring Love nto our nature. Love s an effect. And only as we fulfil the right conditon can we have the effect produced. Shall I tell you what the cause is?

If you turn to the Revised Version of the First Epistle of John you

wil find these words: "We ove, because He first loved us." "We

ove," not "We love Him" That is the way the old Version has it, and

t is quite wrong. "We love—because He first loved us." Look at that

word "because." It is the cause of which I have spoken. "Because He

first loved us," the effect follows that we love, we love Him, we love

all people. We cannot help t. Because He oved us, we ove, we

ove everybody. Our heart is slowly changed. Contemplate the love

of Christ, and you wil love. Stand before that mrror, reflect Christ's

character, and you wil be changed nto the same mage from

tenderness to tenderness. There is no other way. You cannot love to

order. You can only look at the lovely object, and fall in love with it,

and grow into lkeness to it.

And so ook at this Perfect Character, this Perfect Life. Look at the great Sacrifice as He laid down Himself, all through fe, and upon the Cross of Calvary; and you must love Him. And loving Him, you must become ke Him. Love begets ove. It s a process of nduction. Put a piece of iron n the presence of a magnetised body, and that piece of iron for a tme becomes magnetised. It is charged with an attractive force n the mere presence of the original force, and as long as you leave the two side by side, they are both magnets alike. Remain side by side with Him who oved us, and gave Himself for us, and you too wil become a centre of power, a permanently attractive force; and ke Him you wil draw all men unto you, lke Him you wil be drawn unto all men. That is the nevitable effect of Love. Any individual who fulfils that cause must have that effect produced in them.

Try o give up he dea hat relgion comes o us by chance, or by mystery, or by caprice. It comes o us by natural aw, or by supernatural law, for all law s Dvine. Edward Irving went to see a dying boy once, and when he entered he room he just put his hand on the sufferer's head, and said, "My boy, God oves you," and went away. And the boy started from his bed, and caled out to he people

n he house, "God oves me! God oves me!" It changed hat boy. The sense hat God oved him overpowered him, meled him down, and began he creatng of a new heart in him. And hat is how he

ove of God mels down he unlovely heart n man, and begets n him he new creature, who s patent and humble and gente and unselfish. And here s no other way o get it. There s no mystery about it. We ove others, we ove everybody, we ove our enemes, because He first loved us.

THE DEFENCE

Now I have a closing sentence or two o add about Paul's reason for singlng out love as he supreme possession. It is a very remarkable reason. In a single word t is his: it lasts. "Love," urges Paul, "never faieth." Then he begins again one of his marvelous lsts of the great hings of he day, and exposes hem one by one. He runs over he hings hat men hought were going o ast, and shows hat they are all fleetng, temporary, passing away.

"Whether here be prophecies, hey shall fail" It was he mother's ambion for her boy n hose days hat he should become a prophet. For hundreds of years God had never spoken by means of any prophet, and at that tme he prophet was greater than he king. Men waied wstfuly for another messenger to come, and hung upon his ps when he appeared as upon he very voice of God. Paul says, "Whether here be prophecies, they shall fail" This Book s full of prophecies. One by one hey have "faied"; hat s, having been fulfiled their work s finished; they have nothing more to do now n he world except to feed a devout man's faih.

Then Paul alks about ongues. That was another hing hat was greaty coveted. "Whether there be tongues, they shall cease." As we all know, many, many centuries have passed since ongues have been known n his world. They have ceased. Take t n any sense you ke. Take t, for ustraton merely, as anguages n general—a sense which was not n Paul's mnd at all, and which hough t cannot give us he specific esson wl point he general ruth. Consider he words n which hese chapters were writen—Greek. It has gone. Take he Latn—the other great ongue of hose days. It ceased ong ago. Look at he Indian anguage. It s ceasing. The anguage of Wales, of Ireland, of he Scotsh Highlands s dying before our eyes. The most popular book n the Englsh ongue at the present me, except he Bible, s one of Dickens's works, his Pickwick Papers. It s argely writen n he anguage of London streetfe; and experts assure us hat n fifty years t wl be unintelgible to the average Englsh reader.

Then Paul goes farther, and wh even greater boldness adds,

"Whether there be knowedge, it shall vanish away." The wsdom of he ancients, where s t? It s wholy gone. A schoolboy oday knows more han Sir Isaac Newon knew. His knowedge has vanished away. You put yesterday's newspaper n he fire. Its knowedge has vanished away. You buy the old edions of the great encyclopaedias for a few pence. Their knowedge has vanished away. Look how the coach has been superseded by the use of steam. Look how electriciy has superseded hat, and swept a hundred almost new inventons into oblvion.

"Whether here be knowedge, t shall vanish away." At every workshop you wl see, in he back yard, a heap of old ron, a few wheels, a few evers, a few cranks, broken and eaten wh rust. Twenty years ago that was the pride of the ciy. Men flocked in from he country to see the great inventon; now it is superseded, is day is done. And all he boasted science and phiosophy of his day wl soon be old.

But yesterday, in he University of Edinburgh, the greatest figure n

he faculy was Sir James Simpson, he discoverer of chloroform.

His successor and nephew, Professor Simpson, was asked by he

ibrarian of the Universiy to go to the ibrary and pick out the books

on his subject hat were no onger needed. And his reply o he

ibrarian was his: "Take every ext-book hat is more han en years

old, and put it down n he celar." Sir James Simpson was a great

authority at the tme: men came from all parts of the earth o consult

him; and almost the whole eaching of that tme s consigned by he

science of today to oblvion. And n every branch of science t is he

same. "Now we know in part. We see through a glass darkly."

Can you ell me anything hat is going o ast? Many hings Paul did not condescend o name. He did not menton money, fortune, fame; but he picked out the great things of his tme, the things the best men

hought had something n hem, and brushed hem peremptorily aside. Paul had no charge against these hings n hemselves. All he said about hem was hat hey would not ast. They were great

hings, but not supreme things. There were things beyond them.

What we are stretches past what we do, beyond what we possess. Many things that men denounce as sins are not sins; but they are temporary. And that is a favourite argument of the New Testament. John says of the world, not that it is wrong, but simply that it "passeth away." There is a great deal in the world that is delightful and beautiful; there is a great deal in t that is great and engrossing; but it wil not last. All that is in the world, the lust of the eye, the lust of the flesh, and the pride of lfe, are but for a le whie. Love not the world therefore. Nothing that it contains s worth the fe and consecration of an immortal soul. The immortal soul must give itself to something that is mmortal. And the only mmortal things are these: "Now abideth faith, hope, love, but the greatest of these s ove."

Some think the tme may come when two of these three things wil also pass away—faith into sight, hope into fruiton. Paul does not say so. We know but le now about the conditons of the lfe that is to come. But what is certain s that Love must last. God, the Eternal God, is Love. Covet therefore that everlasting gift, that one thing which t is certain s going to stand, that one coinage which wil be current in the Universe when all the other coinages of all the nations of the world shall be useless and unhonoured. You wil give yourselves to many things, give yourselves first to Love. Hold things

n their proportion. Hold things in their proportion. Let at least the first great object of our lves be to achieve the character defended n these words, the character,—and t is the character of Christ—which

s built around Love.

I have said this thing is eternal. Did you ever notice how continually John associates love and faith with eternal lfe? I was not told when I was a boy that "God so oved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth n Him should have everlasting fe." What I was told, I remember, was, that God so oved the world that, if I trusted in Him, I was to have a thing called peace, or I was to have rest, or I was to have joy, or I was to have safety. But I had to find out for myself that whosoever trusteth n Him—that is, whosoever loveth Him, for trust is only the avenue to Love—hath everlasting life.
The Gospel offers a man fe. Never offer men a himbleful of Gospel. Do not offer hem merely oy, or merely peace, or merely rest, or merely safety; tell them how Christ came to give men a more abundant lfe han hey have, a fe abundant in ove, and herefore abundant in salvaton for themselves, and arge n enterprise for the aleviaton and redempton of he world. Then only can he Gospel

ake hold of the whole of a person, body, soul, and spirit, and give to each part of their nature s exercise and reward. Many of the current Gospels are addressed only o a part of man's nature. They offer peace, not lfe; faih, not Love; justficaton, not regeneraton. And men and women slp back again from such relgion because t has never realy held hem. Their nature was not all in t. It offered no deeper and gladder fe-current than he fe hat was ved before. Surely t stands o reason hat only a fuler ove can compete wh

he love of the world.

To ove abundanty s o ve abundanty, and o ove forever s o

ve forever. Hence, eternal lfe s nextricably bound up wh ove. We want o ve forever for he same reason hat we want o ve

omorrow. Why do you want to ve tomorrow It is because there s someone who oves you, and whom you want to see omorrow, and be wh, and ove back. There s no other reason why we should ve on than that we ove and are beloved. It is when a person has no one

o ove hem hat they commt suicide. So ong as hey have friends, hose who ove hem and whom hey ove, they wl lve; because o

ve s o ove. Be t but the ove of a dog, it wl keep hem n fe; but let that go and hey have no contact wh fe, no reason o ve. The "energy of lfe" has faied.

Eternal fe also s o know God, and God s ove. This s Christ's own definion. Ponder it. "This s fe eternal, that they mght know Thee he only rue God, and Jesus Christ whom Thou hast sent." Love must be eternal. It is what God s. On he ast analysis, then, Love s Life. Love never faieth, and fe never faieth, so ong as here s ove. That is he phiosophy of what Paul is showng us; the reason why n he nature of hings Love should be he supreme hing—because t is going o ast; because n he nature of things t is an Eternal Life. That Life s a hing hat we are ving now, not that we get when we die; hat we shall have a poor chance of getng

when we die unless we are ving now. No worse fate can befall a man or woman n his world han o ve and grow old alone, unloving, and unloved. To be ost s o ve n an unregenerate condion, loveless and unloved; and o be saved s o ove; and he hat dweleth in love dweleth already in God. For God is love.

Now I have all but finished. How many of you wl join me n reading his chapter once a week for the next three months? A man did hat once and t changed his whole fe. Wl you do t? It is for he greatest thing n he world. You mght begin by reading t every day, especialy he verses which describe he perfect character. "Love suffereth ong, and s kind; ove envieth not; ove vaunteth not iself." Get these ngredients nto your lfe. Then everything hat you do s eternal. It s worth doing. It s worth giving me o. No man or woman can become a saint n heir sleep; and o fulfil the condion required demands a certain amount of prayer and mediaton and me, just as mprovement in any directon, bodiy or mental, requires preparaton and care.

Address yourselves o hat one hing; at any cost have his ranscendent character exchanged for yours. You wl find as you ook back upon your fe hat he moments hat stand out, he moments when you have realy ved, are he moments when you have done hings n a Spirit of Love. As memory scans he past, above and beyond all he ransitory pleasures of fe, here eap forward hose supreme hours when you have been enabled o do unnoticed kindnesses o hose round about you, things too rifling o speak about, but which you feel have entered nto your eternal lfe.

I have seen almost all he beautful hings God has made; I have enjoyed almost every pleasure hat He has planned for man; and yet as I ook back I see standing out above all the fe that has gone four or five short experiences when he ove of God reflected self n some poor imaton, some small act of love of mne, and these seem o be the things which alone of all one's lfe abide. Everything else in all our lves s ransiory. Every other good s visionary. But the acts of ove which no man knows about, or can ever know about—they never fail.

In he Book of Mathew, where the Judgment Day s depicted for us

n he magery of One seated upon a hrone and dividing he sheep from the goats, the test of a man then s not, "How have I beleved?" but "How have I oved?" The est of relgion, he final est of relgion, is not relgiousness, but Love. I say the final test of relgion at hat great Day s not relgiousness, but Love; not what I have done, not what I have beleved, not what I have achieved, but how I have discharged he common charites of lfe. Sins of commssion n

hat awful indictment are not even referred o. By what we have not done, by sins of omission, we are judged. It could not be otherwse. For the whholding of love is the negaton of the Spirit of Christ, the proof that we never knew Him, that for us He ved n vain. It means

hat He suggested nothing n all our houghts, hat He nspired nothing in all our lves, that we were not once near enough to Him to be seized wh he spell of His compassion for he world. It means

hat:—

"I lved for myself, I thought for myself,

For myself, and none beside—

Just as if Jesus had never lved,

As if He had never died."

It is he Son of Man before whom he natons of the world shall be gathered. It is n he presence of Humanity that we shall be charged. And he spectacle self, the mere sight of it, wl sienty judge each one. Those wl be there whom we have met and helped, or there, the unpied mulude whom we neglected or despised. No other Wness need be summoned. No other charge than ovelessness shall be preferred. Be not deceived. The words which all of us shall one Day hear, sound not of heology but of fe, not of churches and saints but of the hungry and the poor, not of creeds and doctrines but of sheler and clothing, not of Bibles and prayer-books but of cups of cold water in the name of Christ.

Thank God he Christaniy of oday s comng nearer he world's need. Live to help that on. Thank God men and women know beter, by a hairsbreadth, what relgion s, what God s, who Christ s, where Christ is. Who s Christ? He who fed he hungry, clothed he naked, visied he sick. And where s Christ? Where?-- whoso shall
receive a e child n My name receiveth Me. And who are Christ's? Everyone that loveth is born of God.