We have a striking illustration of the distinguishing glory of the gospel—its mercy—in the parable of the prodigal son. The young man, having received his portion from his Father, went into a far country, and spent all his substance in drunkenness and debauchery. Reduced to the last extremity of want, the proud young nobleman hired himself to a citizen of that country, and became a feeder of swine—the meanest employment to which a Jew could be degraded. On the very verge of starvation, we see him snatching the husks from the mouths of the detested animals to satisfy his hunger. Now he contrasts the present with the past. “My father’s house! O, my father’s house!” A trembling hope springs up in his bosom, “I will arise and go!” I see him coming, full of guilt and shame—halting—trembling—ready to turn back, or lie down by the wayside and die. While yet a great way off, the father beholds him—O, not with an eye of anger and revenge! and runs to meet him—O, not with a drawn sword, or an uplifted rod! He feels within him the yearning of a father’s heart, leaps to embrace the prodigal, and pours upon him a mingled shower of kisses and tears. Not a reproachful word is uttered—not the slightest censure—nothing but love. “Father, I have sinned! I am not worthy to be”—“Peace, my son! Servants, bring a robe, a ring, a pair of shoes; and haste to kill the fatted calf; and let us eat and be merry; for this my son was dead and is alive, was lost and is found!” “And they began to be merry.” Such, my brethren, is the unspeakable mercy of the gospel, which constitutes its distinguishing glory. It is the law that creates the famine in the “far country” of sin. The poor prodigal goes about, begging for bread; but none will give him a crust, or a crumb. The desert of Mount Sinai is a poor country for a starving soul. There is no bread in all that region, and no toleration for beggars. If the sinner offers to work for any of the citizens—either for Mr. Holiness, or Mr. Justice, or Mr. Truth—he is sent into the fields to feed swine, till he is thoroughly convinced of the nakedness of the land, and the misery of his lot; and if he faints through famine or fatigue, and fails to perform his task, he is thrust into the house of correction, and placed upon the tread-wheel of remorse, till the ministers of mercy come to his relief. It is the gospel that whispers—“Return to thy father!” It is the gospel that inspires the hope of acceptance. It is the gospel that meets him with more than paternal welcome, and rains upon him the baptism of blessings and tears. It is the gospel that brings its robe of righteousness, and its ring of favour, and spreads its feast of joy, and calls the angels to merry-making “over one sinner that repenteth.”