because thy way is perverse before me." While to the close of his fourfold prophecy his warning trumpet, even if reluctant, gives no uncertain sound.

Thank God, the ghastly fate of a renegade does not befall every one whose heart is not all along right in the sight of God; many repent and are forgiven, though for a while the "gall of bitterness" has poisoned their being, and turned their very prayer into sin. Neither Balaam's gifts nor his trial are likely ever to be ours; but sadly likely is it that we shall work with more or less of his ill will, unless we take heed to purify our hearts by love, as well as to cleanse our hands through fear; and not by a tepid love, but by a self-kindling, self-devouring love. "What lack I yet?” (St. Matt. xix. 20) were the very words of that gracious Young Ruler, who after all went away sorrowful. Nevertheless, the Gospel narrative leaves us in doubt as to the outcome of his sorrow: we may hope that he whom beholding "Jesus loved" may, although sorrowfully, still have relinquished all, taken up

his cross, and followed Him Who loved him. Tradition has combined into one personage this Young Ruler, Lazarus of Bethany (St. John xi. I, 14, 44), the young man wrapped in a linen cloth (St. Mark xiv. 51, 52), and Lazarus the Beggar (St. Luke xvi. 19–25).

Balaam sets before us, in startling horror, the calculable issue of an indulged distaste for the Divine Will. Elsewhere we apprehend hints of the same sin and its penalty. Hand in hand with an Angel, Lot's wife started on the road to safety, but a backward look towards Sodom undid her (Gen. xix. 15, 16, 26). Moses raised difficulties in the way of obedience, till "the anger of the Lord was kindled against" him (Ex. iv. 10-14). Barak made terms with Deborah, and forthwith the terms of his Divine commission seem correspondingly to have changed: "I will deliver him into thine hand... The journey that thou takest shall not be for thine honour; for the Lord shall sell Sisera into the hand of a woman" (Judges iv. 6-9). Orpah, no less than Ruth and Naomi, set out for the land

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of promise; but as they journeyed she kissed her mother-in-law and turned back (Ruth i. 615). So also in the New Testament; Herod was impressed by St. John Baptist, and Pilate by Christ Himself, and Felix by St. Paul; yet all three stopping short at the impression, lapsed from bad to worse (St. Mark vi. 20, 26, 27; St. John xviii. 33-40, xix. 1-16; Acts xxiv. 25-27).

Conscientious, and more especially scrupulous, persons seem characteristically open to this sin of Disinclination, even while they toil persistently along the narrow path; Disinclination makes them (so to say) graze the hedge on one side or other at every step; thorns catch them, stones half trip them up, a perpetual dust attends their footsteps, grace and comeliness of aspect vanish. Though they dare not shut themselves up comfortably indoors with the slothful man (Prov. xxii. 13), they are haunted by the "lion without," and dwell on the probability of his catching them at every corner. They observe the wind even while they sow,

and study the clouds while they reap; thus combining into one unseemly whole the discomforts of obedience and of disobedience.

The Bible records for our encouragement instances of persons who needed to overcome themselves in the first place: that done, their circumstances turned out favourable. Gideon had recourse to an offered omen before unsheathing the victorious "sword of the Lord, and of Gideon" (Judges vii. 9-25). Nehemiah nerved himself by prayer before risking a manifestation of sorrow in the King's presence, and thereby moving him to acts of grace (Neh. i. 3-11, ii. 1-8). Esther, trembling amid her fellow exiles, solemnized a three days' national fast before she faced her husband and won him to her will (Esther iv. 8-17, V. 1–3).

When all due weight has been conceded to secondary motives, the paramount motive for what we do or leave undone-if, that is, we aim at either acting or forbearing worthily—is love: not fear, or self-interest, or even hatred of sin, or sense of duty, but direct filial love to God.

Without this, they who shout for the battle and go forth one way will, in the end, flee five ways. Let us trace a parable in the adventure of a shepherd lost in a valley mist. No effort of his could beat that mist away: but by mounting a hill he rose above it, and discerned his path home. Our hill is communion with God. "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, Who hath blessed us with all spiritual blessings in heavenly places in Christ .... And hath raised us up together, and made us sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus" (Eph. i. 3, ii. 6).

If we may thus consider the First Commandment of the Decalogue as forming the essence and basis of the "First and Great” Commandment, we may, I think, similarly view the Fifth as occupying the corresponding position in regard to the "Second and like" Commandment; and this, whether we insert the Fifth at the foot of the First table or at the head of the Second. St. Paul attests its dignity when by hope rather than by fear he commends its fulfilment to his