When I speak of conversion, I mean, not only the change which comes in after-life upon the sinful and the careless, when they begin to turn with tardy steps towards God; but also the whole life-long penetrating change of heart which must pass on every regenerate soul. Every fallen spirit needs a conversion to God; for flesh and blood cannot inherit His kingdom. And whether that change or conversion be in after-life, begun too late, and with greater obstructions, or whether it begin with our earliest consciousness, as dawn lightens into noon, it is all one. Time is nothing: sudden or gradual are but properties of time. The change of the soul from sin to God is an universal law; and every baptised soul needs a perfect conversion to God. Now, the only true motive of this change is a sense of the love of Christ.

We see its power even from the very font. What is it that draws the hearts of children to the service of Christ? Not the great white throne; not the face from which heaven and earth shall flee away; but the love of Jesus Christ revealed in His words and deeds, and believed by them as the atmosphere in which they live. This is about them everywhere, drawing them with a calm, even, steadfast motion to Himself. From earliest childhood sin is hateful to them, because it is hateful to Him; holiness lovely, because Christ loves it. To

do or to leave any thing undone, it is enough for them to know that so He wills. Above the love of brother, sister, or mother, is the love of Him of whom the Gospels speak, suffering and dying for love of them. There is not a purer or heavenlier sight on earth than a child listening to the life and words, the passion and love of Jesus Christ. The life of such is a perpetual conversion, a daily, hourly turning of the whole heart to Him. The mind of the flesh dies down in them, as the mind of the spirit enlarges its power and fulness, and the darkened face of the soul is converted more and more towards Him, until it is filled with His brightness, as the moon at the full.

What so

And this we see also in after-life. binds to the cross the heart of those who are entering upon the perils of life as the consciousness of the love which from the cross descends upon them? The love of Christ is the purity and safety of youth. It is their shield in temptation, their strength in obedience, their spur in lingering, their measure in devotion and service. With what resolved and confiding hearts do such renew the vows of their baptism in confirmation; with how firm a will do they answer in the words "I do!" With what ardent and intent devotion do they come to their first communion; and with what ever-increasing desire do they await every return of the holy Sacrament.

All these are true and perfect examples of conversion. Indeed, the life-long conversion of the regenerate is the best and most perfect form of this great spiritual law. Late conversions are imperfect imitations, as "the shooting up of the latter growth;" "the latter growth after the king's mowings:" for the bloom and the freshness are His. Nature has its tardy and scantier compensations, its after-fruits, and gleanings when the harvest is done. Such are most conversions of which the world takes note, because contrasts are objects of sense, while changes are objects of faith alone.

But let us take examples of such later and commoner conversions. What is it but the power of this constraining love which bends the will of those who, after baptism, fall, and yet repent? What is it that most deeply moves and changes the sinful, worldly, and wasted heart? What turned Saul from his career of blood, recalled Peter from his denials, drew sinners to wash His feet with tears? The tenderness, the look, the voice of love. The shame, sorrow, indignation, revenge of penitents spring from the too late awakened consciousness of the love against which they have been sinning. The greater the love, the greater their offending the more deeply it is perceived, the more fervent their repentance.

1 Amos vii. 1.

But there is another effect of this love when it is felt in the heart. It is the only source of unreserved devotion, and of perfect sacrifice of self. Many other motives draw us to partial obedience and to lesser self-denials. I need not speak of false and spurious motives, such as fanaticism, vain-glory, self-exaltation, which will lead men into great undertakings and perils under the plea of religion; much less need I speak of baser and earthlier motives. There is always a glare, heat, and noise about such characters, a restless, eager sharpness in their tone and way, which betrays the source of the fire from which they are kindled to be not in heaven but earth. We are now speaking of such motives as act upon sincere and religious hearts. In such persons we often see, with much of seriousness, goodness, and high aspiration, something which always keeps them down. They are at peace with the world, are esteemed by the majority, trusted by those who will not trust each other. They are esteemed prudent, discreet, and safe. Their life ruffles no one; is in keeping with the ways, hours, comfort, ease, enjoyment of society. And yet they are often charitable, earnest, and on the right side. But there is one visible defect. They want range, force, freedom, and a fearless spirit. In religious duties they take counsel of men less religious than themselves. They use the weights and measures

of civilisation, refinement, and what the world calls possible. The one thing they lack is boldness to be fools for Christ's sake." Such was not the spirit of those who in all ages have done and suffered great things for the kingdom of God. They knew no motive but the love of Christ. All other motives ran up into this, and were lost, as lesser forces are united in a greater. With what unreserved and generous affections did they give themselves to His service. It was not a cold conviction of truth, or a mere sentiment of its beauty, or a rule of conscience, or the encouragement of human esteem, or a passing fervour, or a fear of pains beyond the grave, or even a hope of eternal peace; none of these sufficed to set on fire those who have converted nations, planted churches, founded religious orders, kindled and moulded a spiritual lineage to tend the sick, instruct the ignorant, educate little children, reclaim sinners, redeem captives, pluck brands from the burning. For this there was needed a higher, deeper, mightier impulse, in which all hopes and fears are extinguished; a motive which breaks down the measures of self and of the world on every side, and can be meted only by a measure which is divine. The love of Christ constrained them. His love to them was the measure of their self-sacrifice for Him. Therefore they gladly forsook friends, home, and