The purifying of the flesh by the sprinkling of the ashes of an heifer was of exactly the same character. The clearest account of it is given in Num. xix., the passage to which the Apostle apparently refers. There you find the description of certain persons who were accounted unclean: as, _e.g._, those who had touched a dead body. And those persons, being unclean, were cut off from the sanctuary. But when, after seven days, they were sprinkled with the ashes of the heifer, their legal uncleanness was removed, and they were restored to the congregation as clean persons. They were not really more pure than they were before, but they were no longer accounted as defiled, and thus they were reinstated into all their privileges. The sprinkling of blood and of the ashes, therefore, did produce a real result. It did not change the inward state of the heart, but it did alter the position. It was God’s appointed ordinance for the removal of legal guilt; and it did remove it. It was effectual for its purpose, and after it had taken place the uncleanness was no more: it might soon accumulate again, and become possibly worse than ever; but the past defilement was gone, and the unclean man was clean. But it did not touch the heart or conscience. It was an outward act affecting the outward person, and restoring a man to the sanctuary and congregation; but, if his heart was broken by the bitter sense of indwelling sin, it could not restore him to God: if his conscience was grieved by the bitter memory of sad sin, the ashes of the heifer could not heal that. Suppose a man had something weighing on his conscience: he might bring his kid to the altar; but unless he was able in that sacrifice to see the coming Christ, he would have the bitter pain of past transgression still festering in his heart. He might be sprinkled with the ashes of the heifer, and take his place in the sanctuary of God as if all was right; but that would not take away his burden. If that were all he would go back from the sanctuary with a heavy heart. He would be just like thousands amongst ourselves who have experienced the utter failure of any external remedy for the wounded conscience. They have been through the whole outward routine of a correct Christianity,—prayers, Bible reading, Church services, sacraments,—and you may truly say they are sanctified according to the flesh. But there is a heartache still within the soul; there is an uncleanness there too deep to be touched by anything external,—so deep that it baffles every effort to cleanse it, and appears to rise with fresh power at the very time that they endeavour to apply their remedy. It is this that has always been the great difficulty in our endeavours to serve the living God, for till this burden is removed it is sure to keep us in a position of bondage and inability. I once saw some poor prisoners driven to their work with a long and heavy chain riveted on their ankles; and what heart or power