effectual help, and not showing the least wish to do so. And they not only pass by the wounded Lord, but they pass by on the other side, to do which is to become translated into their opposites. For love to the Lord, or what deems itself such, is in reality, when so treating the Word, mere unmitigated selfishness-the love of self instead of the love of the Lord. And love of the neighbour, or what flatters itself to be such, is in truth, when having no aid to give to the wounded Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief, sheer undeniable worldliness-the love of the world instead of the love of the neighbour. Such, then, is the picture of the lawyer's deplorable state of mind from the pencil of the Lord Jesus Christ Himself—the picture, too, of the state of any of us, in as far as in these respects we resemble the lawyer.

Reviewing the case, then, the predicament is this: to inherit eternal life we must love the Lord with all our heart, and our neighbour as ourself; and yet we, if like the lawyer, are not doing either the one or the other. Half-eaten up with our selfishness and worldliness, that which is of the Lord in us-the knowledge of heavenly truthwe have allowed to be grievously plundered, abused, half-killed. And what are we to do-what is there we can do to inherit eternal life in such circumstances? We cannot force ourselves to love and worship the Lord in spirit and in truth, and it is all too evident we do not do it at present. We cannot compel ourselves to love our neighbour as ourselves, and it is questionable whether, outside our little circle of family affection, we care a rush for the real use and welfare of our fellow-creatures, except as far as our own worldly interests are concerned in doing so. There is no more genuine love of the Lord or of the neighbour to come out of us, than of wine from a paving-stone or of milk from a deal board. And how can we give ourselves these loves, from what store equip ourselves with them, by what process

obtain them?

When priest and Levite in us, passing by on the other side, have no help to offer to Him who, going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, is more marred than any man, and His form than the sons of men, there remains yet one in us who may and can wait upon and tend Him whom we have suffered to be thus maltreated. For there are not two loves, but three, and therefore not two degrees of goodness, but three, which have in them the inheritance of eternal life. Goodness is only another term for use; and all goodness is love of some degree put to its own use, and so fulfilling itself in life. The noblest, highest goodness is the good of love to the Lord, born of the love of being of use to Him for His sake, and not for ours. An inferior, yet

right noble and lofty goodness is the good of charity or love to the neighbour, the fruit of the love of being of use to our human brothers and sisters for their advantage rather than for ours. Still lower is a third degree of goodness-the good of truth or of obedience; the goodness which comes of the love of obeying the Lord, not for His sake, nor for that of our fellow-creatures, but for our own best use -for the service thereby rendered to ourselves in securing our eternal salvation. In its lower development, the love of obedience is not really a heavenly affection. Subordinated to the higher loves, it becomes heavenly; but at first it is little more than a wisely refined selfishness and a highly-improved worldliness, reaching therefore only to, and not inside, the threshold of heaven. And yet where the priest and the Levite-love to the Lord and to the neighbour-go by on the other side, this love of obedience for our own eternal use is able, and is the only thing that is able, to take up the Divine Man in us, and minister to Him whom we have suffered to fall so miserably among thieves. For this good of truth, or of obedience, in its first inception and action, is the good Samaritan. Not the good Jew, nor the Israelite indeed—not a goodness of the Church or of heaven; but the good Samaritan, a Gentile goodness, outside the Church and outside heaven, as Samaria at that time, being outside Judæa, was in a strict sense alien from the commonwealth of Israel. This goodness, from the love of obeying the truth of the Word, has compassion on the stripped, wounded, and half-slain Lord in the mind of man; binds up His wounds, correcting the false persuasions that have hurt Him; and sets Him on his (the Samaritan's) own beast-that is to say, does the best for Him that external and self-regarding religiousness knows, from its own inferior standpoint, the way to accomplish. For it is, of course, quite beyond the power of this degree of goodness in its first state to set the wounded Traveller, the injured Word of God, on His own feet, which are of finest brass, being of the purest quality of that goodness; all it can do in its present early and inferior condition is to set the Holy Word on such external understanding of doctrine as can be comprehended and obeyed by a goodness in which as yet abides so much that is of self and the world. What continued instruction, what prolonged discipline of heart and life, is still necessary to give the Holy Word in the lawyer's mind and life a perfect restoration to health and strength, is foreshadowed in the parable, in the bringing of the wounded One to the inn, the taking care of Him there, and the committing Him to the hands of the Host. For an inn, for the rest and recuperation of the body in travelling, signifies a state of instruction and discipline for spiritual rest and refreshment on the pilgrimage

to heaven. And as the wounded man is the Lord as to the knowledge of the Word, so the Host, again, is the Lord as to the tender care and skilful discipline of the soul, which, from a higher principle than the first external and imperfect good of obedience, His providence provides. All that that inferior goodness can do for the half-dead Word, in taking care of Him at the inn, is but a partial and provisional assistance. After a while there comes a morrow-the dawn of a new state. On that morrow, when it arrives, the first good of obedience departs, and gives place to a higher ministration. But because to that first goodness it always seems that all spiritual progress and improvement is strictly bought and paid for, by painful and costly self-denials, therefore the departing Samaritan takes out two pence and offers them to the Divine Host of the inn, and says to Him, "Take care of Him, and whatsoever Thou spendest more, when I come again I will repay Thee." It is all a bargain-a mercantile transaction-a buying of salvation-a sheer inability to accept wine and milk without money and without price. Love to the Lord and love to the neighbourgenuine priest and genuine Levite-would know better than this; nothing in their hand would they bring in the spirit of purchase or of self-deserving. But the love of obedience, in its Samaritan stage, is not enough a heavenly love to reach to heights of intelligence like this; and it offers two pence to go on with, and even in its departure holds out an expectation of still more. The number two is to three what six is to seven, and in that relationship it signifies spiritual labour and combat; and the two pence signify the struggle and difficulty, the labour and sorrow, as well as the sense of purchase and merit, which enforced obedience involves. By and by, the good of obedience, which now gives place to the Divine Host, will come again. In its first coming it was labour and sorrow; in its second it is joy and peace. In its first coming it was a ruling love-the highest motive from which religion in that stage of its development could be actuated. In its second coming it will be a love fortified by, and to some extent subordinated dutifully to, the love of the Lord and the love of the neighbour. And then it will no longer dream of repaying the Divine Host for His merciful expenditures; though to the very end of its first coming it could dare to say, in its ignorant selfimportance, "Whatsoever Thou spendest more, I will repay Thee."

Examining ourselves now in the lights of this parable, we have first of all to ask ourselves, Who is our neighbour? Is our neighbour the good of love to the Lord, the good priest, full of help, and not gone by on the other side? Is it indeed our meat and our drink to

do the will of our heavenly Father? Do we delight to run in the way of His commandments? or, is it still a cross and a burden to drag ourselves along on the Christian road?

"Brethren, try the solemn question :

Do we love the Lord supreme?

Wholly and in each affection
Are we given up to Him?"

If so, then it is indeed well with us. But if not-if any of us are conscious, alas! that we are not wholly dedicated to the Lord, again we must ask ourselves, And who is our neighbour? Is it the good of charity, of which our lives are the blessed incarnations and expressions? Does it give us as much pleasure to be of use to others as to be ministering to ourselves? Rather than not be working for others, would we be willing to forego even the wages if it were in our power so to do? If so, it is well with us; but if not, again reverts the solemn question, And who is our neighbour? We have but one more chance. Only one thing more is possible to us if we would inherit eternal life. At least the good of truth, the goodness of obedience, is within our reach. We do not love the Lord, it is true; it is a burden to worship Him, or even to profess and pretend to do it. We do not love the neighbour; we grudge that our masters if we are servants, our servants if we are masters, our customers if we sell, our merchants of whom we buy, should get the slightest advantage in dealing with us, and we have ever a keen-set eye to grasp our own profit at the expense of theirs. Can we force ourselves to love them and so to change all this? No. But we can, for the sake of our own inheritance of eternal life, which otherwise will assuredly be forfeited, compel ourselves to do just those things we should do if we did indeed love the Lord and the neighbour. We can do them because Jesus Christ commands and requires us to do them; we can do them from constrained obedience, if we cannot yet do them from glowing love. And if we do them from the good Samaritan principle, it will be found that there is salvation for us in so doing. For there is carried about ever with that good of obedience, and, as it were, concealed about its person somewhere or other, a little store even of the higher degrees of goodness. These exist at first in the active love of obedience, not as ruling, but as ancillary; not as incarnate living principles, genuine priest and genuine Levite, but yet as a little secret treasure, a phial, it may be, of oil and a phial of wine, which always proves to be in the good Samaritan's possession. For oil, too, is the good of love to the Lord in one of its forms of presentment, as wine also is the good of charity;

and these the good Samaritan feebly, at first, inefficiently to some extent, and yet not altogether unserviceably, is able to produce, and to pour into the gaping wounds of the suffering Word. Does he then depart? It is only that he may return in a purer degree and in more goodly company. For be sure, when he comes again, he will bring with him the reconverted priest and the reconverted Levite-the higher degrees of heavenly love in their own blessed genuineness and efficiency. Meanwhile, let us betake ourselves, for our very life's sake, to the goodness of obedience, that painful and laborious goodness, through which alone we can begin to inherit eternal life. That is to say, whatsoever we should do with joy and gladness, did we indeed love the Lord and the neighbour, let us do earnestly, devoutly, and for our own salvation, and do it to the full. Or, in other words, whatsoever the good Samaritan can do in befriending the man fallen among thieves, let us "go and do likewise."

Behold," said he, "in Bethlehem,

Is born this day a mighty Lord;

Jesus, the Saviour, is His name,"
When suddenly, with sweet accord:
"Glory to God," etc.

The shepherds feared, and prostrate fell,
As round them burst the heavenly light;

But angel voices o'er them swell,

And charm with praise the ear of night:
"Glory to God," etc.

"Fear not," the herald said, "to you,
And all the people of the earth,

I bring from heaven these tidings true
Of Christ, the babe Immanuel's birth: "
"Glory to God," etc.