to yourselves such just consolation and assurance, and let your life manifest them, as if CHRIST, Who cannot lie and cannot fail, had audibly declared to you, “Go thy way; and as thou hast believed, so be it done unto thee.” SERMON XI. CHRIST STILLING THE STORM. ST. MATTHEW, VIII., 26. _And He saith unto them_, _Why are ye fearful_, _O ye of little faith_? _Then He arose_, _and rebuked the winds and the sea_; _and there was a great calm_. IT was after a day of laborious teaching, that our LORD to escape for a time from the crowds that thronged Him, to obtain rest and quiet, perhaps to exercise His ministry in other places, commanded the disciples to steer the ship, in which He had been teaching, across the sea of Galilee, and to convey Him to the other side. Immediately, it would appear, that they set out, He laid Himself down and fell asleep. Partaking of human nature in its infirmity, though not in its sin, He was worn out with labour, and absolutely required, yea, hastened to rest. He sunk into a deep sleep, then, as soon as He assumed the posture of repose. But anon, a storm arose. One of those squalls (which so often come down upon lakes surrounded by mountains) suddenly filled the air with boisterous wind, and so upraised and agitated the waves, that they dashed over the ship, and threatened it with destruction. The disciples, many of whom were fishermen, and others accustomed to occupy their business upon or beside the water, must have been too familiar with storms to be easily frightened. The darkening clouds, the howling wind, the troubled water, would, of course, arouse them to energy, warning them that they were in danger, and requiring them to watch and labour to save themselves; and so we can well imagine them running hither and thither, with anxious looks, loosing or furling the sails, as might be necessary; avoiding quicksands, and rocks, and shallow places; lightening the ship of dangerous burthens; directing their course by the safest way, to the haven where they would be. But either they must have been sorry sailors, with coward hearts, which we are not willing to believe, or their courage must have been overcome by very unusual and imminent danger, ere they would have rushed to their Master, and cried to Him, in terror, “LORD, save us, we perish!” or, in rash reproach, “Carest thou not, that we perish?” Yes! I say, there must have been unusual and imminent danger, and even something more—some supernatural portent—thus to strike with terror, thus to fill with despair.