terest which these high intelligences have in it, dignifies it in the eyes of men, and rebukes their scorn.

It cannot be difficult, nor need it be unprofitable, to pursue this thought. The statement of fact, which Christ has made, justifies this use of his language. At the same time, it limits the subject, and guards us against all uncertain and unprofitable speculation.

The Jews had a saying, that "the angels weep whenever a Hebrew sins." Whether our Lord had this saying in mind or not, we have no means of knowing. It is, however, certain that it is in fine contrast with the language he has himself employed. If angels weep whenever a Hebrew sins, they rejoice with singing when a sinner, whoever he may be, Publican, Pharisee, or Gentile, repents; yea, more than over ninety and nine just persons who need no repentance. The Pharisees held that a genuine Hebrew rarely transgressed the law of God, and that when he did the angels wept in sorrow as at a brother's fall. Christ passes at once above all that is false in the thought. He rejects whatever is narrow and selfish, and all that is falsely sentimental. He teaches that these pure and benevolent beings not only take the liveliest interest in our welfare, but that they are in perfect sympathy with his principles and practice. Their sympathies are atrracted wherever his are, so that while he, their Lord and Master, is on the earth, welcoming to his open arms the most despised penitent, they, in their seats of bliss, celebrate the event in notes of loudest praise.

In endeavoring to set before our minds the event of a sinner's conversion, as it would be presented to a mind in all respects superior to our own, I have no wish to make any unnatural use of the doctrines of Christianity. I wish to borrow no aid from what is uncertain or merely probable. I desire to speak soberly of what I am fully persuaded must be true.

The interest with which angels regard a sinner's repentance is, in kind, the same as the joy of all good men. But it is surer and greater, as their natures are superior to ours. I remark, then,

I. In the first place, that they rejoice in each transition from sin to holiness, as an event which they could not have foretold. The language of Christ seems to imply that it is the joy of good news which they feel. This is explained by remembering that no such pleasure as this is anywhere ascribed to God. Love, compassion, forgiveness, complacency, these are his; but not the joy of discovery.

"To Thee, there's nothing old appears;

Great God, there's nothing new."

His infinite nature embraces the future, with the present and

the past. It is not, therefore, said of him that he rejoices more over one penitent than over ninety and nine just persons. With reverence we may say that he cannot do it. Were his holiness, in which is all his delight, not infinite, could it measure and compare its delights, it would rejoice rather in the ripened. character of the many, than in the birth of the new one.

But the angels are not like their Creator in this respect. Like us they measure time. They know not the future; at least, not as God does. It is expressly said that they know not when the day of judgment will be. So that when they see a child of sin turn to God, and put on the garments of righteousness, they feel, as holy men on earth would feel, more lively joy in 'that event than they do over many who are already righteous. It is the event which thrills them. The tide of joy then rises and overflows. God's nature, however, is ever full; and as it knows no abatement of his, alone, infinite bliss, so it knows no rise.

The justness of the facts of the Scriptures to the nature of the beings whom they describe, whether God, angels, or men, is admirably illustrated in this instance, and is worthy of our most serious regard. Impostors never could have risen to so high a thought. Heathen Mythology, although corrected and refined by the most exalted human genius, never represented an unimpassioned God. And this distinguished superiority we claim, not for the Christian Scriptures only, but for the entire revelation. Thus we find it recorded in the first chapters of Genesis, that when God had, by a word, made the world; when he had set the sun and the moon in the firmament, and the stars in their courses; when he had made the sea, and filled it with its inhabitants; when he had covered the earth with verdure, and had made the birds to fly in the air, and beasts and every creeping thing upon the ground; and, lastly, had made man in his own image, to have dominion over all the works of his hand, he but looked upon his marvelous creation, and simply saw that it was "good." What satisfaction is here expressed; calm only because God's nature forbids his pleasure ever to be less!

But when this same new creation burst upon the view of angels, and they beheld it fresh from the hands of the Creator, it was theirs to feel the full inspiration of the sight. "The morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy.'

So in the instance of the Scripture now before us. God's welcome to the repenting sinner is not the less because it is expressed in terms consistent with his most exalted character. His estimate of such an event we gather from what he does; angels', from what they feel and say. To them, who see the reality and nature of the change, it is an event of the highest importance. The only instances in which these superior beings

are represented as rejoicing, are at the creation of the universe, the birth of Jesus Christ, and the conversion of a sinner. II. But this is not all. Great though this event be, it is not its novelty in the sinner's history, nor is it his sudden transition from darkness to light, which alone gives joy in heaven. The representations of our Saviour are inconsistent with the supposition that the event the angels celebrate is in itself trivial, much less that it is irrational and vain. I remark, then, in the second place, that they view it as a moral change, in which their holy natures necessarily take delight.

It is remarkable, that in this passage conversion is represented by that element in it which it is not possible for us to mistake, viz., repentance. Had Christ said that they rejoice when one believes, some would claim the character for themselves, because their faith is sound. Had he said, when one is renewed, some would have referred it to their baptism, when all their sins were washed away in the laver of regeneration. But there is no mistaking the terms he has employed: "when a sinner REPENTS." That determines his meaning. That fixes the character of the individual referred to, and the moral nature of his act. The case is that of one who, to the just view of holy angels, repents of the sins he has actually committed against his God and theirs, who sorrows for them after a godly sort, and breaks off from them with a godly hate. This is the point of immediate interest, and the one from which to view every other fact we have to present.

Were one from the ranks of those beings, who, we are told, are but a little above us, to visit our world; were he to come free from our long familiarity with the forms and fruits of sin, unprejudiced, in his estimate of human things, by habit or inclination; and could he see, not only what is said and done, but what is in the hearts of men, how certain would be his eye to fasten chiefly upon the moral aspect in which mankind would be presented to his view. And were he to visit the most culti vated community on earth, everywhere there would be spread before him the ruin which sin has wrought. He might see much which we call propriety and goodness; but save those few who have been "justified by the blood of the everlasting covenant," and are kept by the power of God through faith unto salvation," our good ones would be Hebrew sinners all, and the angel well might weep. There, in that unrenewed heart, he would see no love to God, no equal love to man; there, pride and ambition; there, lust of gold or of pleasure, or at least for independence of the Maker's will. There he would see one who dares to make light of that holiest thing there is on earth-a broken and a contrite heart. There, one who holds the truth in unrighteousness-who takes it as the Word of God, but is firmly

set never to bow his will to the Divine standard, though he die the death. Everywhere he would see those who misinterpret the oracles of God at the suggestions of their unbelieving hearts; and worse than all, men unaffected by the obedience and death of Christ, neglecting so great salvation, and resisting the Holy Ghost. More than we have imagined is doubtless true. Such visitations are made. Such sights are witnessed. Such reports are made in heaven, and perhaps are made, beloved, of you; made, it may be, in circles where the departed you once loved on earth-the mother who prayed for you, the father, the tender, sympathizing friend, the young companion who was called to heaven because too good for earth-wait to hear tidings of that repentance you promised them when they were dying, and which often you have promised to your God.

Now, I say of such a being, thus elevated and just in all bis views, thus holy towards God, but swayed by sympathies, and subject to the lights and shades of feeling which belong to him as a finite soul, how keenly must he feel the folly and the sin which he beholds. How dark the picture which is everywhere open to his view. There is nothing improbable in this supposition, when we remember the language which the unerring Scriptures have employed respecting these heavenly visitors; nothing unlikely, save that which is too imperfect in our conception, and in our statement of the case.

The reverse of this, however, is the particular case given us in the text. With such a state of things open to the celestial "watchers;" with so dark a picture before them when they look upon the fairest spot-a picture which shades into the deepest darkness when they look away over the vast tracts of heathenism-how must they hail the return of one prodigal, and withess his penitence and prayers! No other event could equal it in importance. Nothing human could approach it in the interest of the scene. Besides, the love which one always must have for another of like tastes and dispositions, the striking contrast in which this moral event would stand with all else an angel could discover, would, and it ought, to have its effect. And it ought to instruct us, my brethren, to know that beings who are fellow-servants with our fathers the prophets, and from whom we are not necessarily cut off in sympathy, look upon this world, and look upon us in it, with far different and with more just eyes than ours. They behold the things in which men trust and glory, as well as the sinner who repents. They see the breadth, and they gauge the depth of our pride. They view the wealth at which we grasp, and the means we take to secure it. They behold the sails which whiten our seas, and the cities, and temples, and palaces we build. They observe and understand the objects of our admiration. But such things move them not.

Let us suppose a case. Again imagine such a being to be approaching some chosen spot. Let it be where science has built and enriched her temples, and where art displays her choicest productions. Besides the treasures of knowledge, imagine that there were gathered there all the choicest works of every age, in literature, in architecture, in sculpture and painting. Let everything which is sublime and beautiful in the productions of human genius be realized again, and let the city be peopled only by minds the most acute, the most sensitive, the most thoughtful and profound. Let every house be the home of the most tasteful luxuries, and of the most refined manners. And would they charm an angel's eye, and move an angel's heart? Would the lofty temple awe him, or the finished picture please him? Would eloquence rouse his passions, or would music calm them? But if, in some neglected place, one poor, it may be an ignorant and vulgar man, too dull to see the glories of art, or too indigent to possess one of its luxuries, was seen to kneel on the boards of a garret, or on the cold ground at night, to pray-that would be a sight to kindle an angel's joy. Such a broken and contrite heart would seem wiser, and holier, and fairer than all that was wise and fair in the scenes and persons around it. Such a sight would make a quick appeal to the best sympathies of a just and holy mind. One would then be seen, who has long been the slave of sin, awakening to a freedom which the worldly never know. One, who has long been ignorant of God, is coming into the possession of the divinest knowledge. He who has trembled at the thought of death, is learning how to conquer it. He who has lived only for the present and for sense, begins to live wisely for immortality. The friendless, the homeless, the forsaken of the God he had rejected, is now taken to the arms of a forgiving Father.

"A transport glows in all he looks and speaks,
And the first thankful tears bedew his cheeks.
Joy, far superior joy, that much outweighs
The comfort of a few poor added days,
Invades, possesses, and o'erwhelms the soul
Of him whom hope has with a touch made whole.
'Tis heaven, all heaven, descending on the wings
Of the glad legions of the King of Kings.

'Tis more -'tis God diffused through every part;
'Tis God himself triumphant in his heart."

III. But it is not merely a change of character over which the angels rejoice in lively sympathy. They rejoice over the change in the sinner's prospects for the future.

Although they are unable to foretell future events, they must have a much better knowledge than any we possess of the connection between a life of sin and the misery to which it leads.