[1] Preached at a convocation, Illinois, 1874. XX. THE FRUITLESS FIG-TREE.[1] How soon is the fig-tree withered away!--Matt. xxi. 20. Next Friday we follow our Saviour to the cross. The last few days before his death are crowded with some of the most significant acts of his ministry. One of these we are now called to contemplate--the withering of the fruitless fig-tree by his word. To-day being the anniversary of that event, it is appropriately chosen as the theme of our discourse. Like all the other miracles of our Lord, this is a parable in action. The fruitless tree represents the Jewish people, and its fate foreshadows their terrible doom. In this interpretation we are warranted by a parable of the divine Teacher uttered a few days earlier--that of the barren fig-tree in the vineyard, for which the vine-dresser intercedes with the proprietor and obtains a further probation. The apostles, who had heard the parable and now saw the miracle, could scarcely fail to connect the one with the other, and to refer both to the infidelity and fearful punishment of the chosen people, as they exclaimed--"How soon is the fig-tree withered away!" Fifteen hundred years before, God had brought a goodly shoot out of Egypt, and planted it in a very fruitful hill, and hedged it about with wondrous providences, and watered it with constant dews and seasonable rains, and enriched the soil around it with a thousand gracious appliances, and waited on it patiently with a careful and diligent husbandry. And it sent down its roots deep into the earth, and threw up its leafy branches high toward heaven, and gave good promise of abundant fruit. Then he sent his prophets to prune it, and stir the soil around it, and watch over it night and day. And the wild beast that gnawed its bark was pierced by the arrow of the Almighty, and the hand that raised an axe against it fell smitten by the lightning of heaven. But, instead of producing figs, it wasted its luxuriant life in leaves. Then came the Proprietor in person, hungering for the fruit of his labor; and, finding none, he tarried and toiled with it three years, and watered with frequent tears its deceitful foliage. But all was in vain, and he was forced at last to pronounce its doom, and leave it blasted and decaying upon its fruitful hill.