that his obedience had been kept at the extreme verge of his light.’ I am not sure that I know what the writer means, and I may possibly misunderstand his words; but, if they mean what they seem to mean, I can scarcely imagine anything more delusive. We know very well how the eyes may be blinded, the heart deadened, and the conscience seared by sin; we know that the deeper a man is sunk in sin the less he feels it, and the lower his fall the more profound his want of feeling; and only imagine what must be the result if a deadened, thickened, darkened conscience were to be accepted as the measure of a sinless life. The idea reminds one of these words of St. Paul, 2 Cor. x. 12: ‘They measuring themselves by themselves, and comparing themselves among themselves, are not wise.’ Nay: they go further, and point to the tremendous danger pointed out by our Lord Himself: ‘If the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness.’ (Matt. vi. 23.) No: we must have a standard rising high above either consciousness, conscience, or our own light; a standard that never varies; a standard that does not go up and down with our changes of feeling or opinion; a standard as unchanging as the perfect character of God Himself! This is the standard which we find in the Lord Jesus Christ,—in God manifest in the flesh: and what is more, thanks be to God, this is the standard which we shall one day reach! For, though there are many things still hidden, there is one thing we most assuredly know, and that is, that ‘when He shall appear we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is.’