We are in the first place, confronted by the fact of the permanent and inextinguishable life of the Bible. No engrossment of the general mind with secularities, no change in the methods of thought, no discovery of science, and no achievement of literature puts the Bible out of court. It and it alone ministers to the permanent and universal cravings of our being. Sir Thomas Browne puts it well: "Men's works have an age like themselves, and though they outlive their authors, yet have they a stint and period to their duration. This only is a work too hard for the teeth of time, and cannot perish but in the general flames when all things will confess their ashes." The words are as true as when they were written, and they will be as true at any future period, however long this frame of things may last. We will not even quarrel with the thought that the Bible itself will come to be no longer needed, for we shall in the end be content to have no Scripture but the Living Word Himself. Now it is this which sharply distinguishes the Bible from every other book. There are, said one, three classes of books. There is the book you read once, the book you read twice, and the book you read every year. There is besides the Book which you read constantly, which morning by morning, evening by evening, brings its message of help. Other books, even the greatest, exhaust their message. Take, for example, the sermons of Frederick Robertson. What startling freshness there was in them on a first reading! Go back to them now, and you find that very much of their message has passed into the substance of contemporary thought. The Bible has been and ever is yielding messages, and yet returning to it you ever find, and the generations ever find, that it has more to say. We may, indeed, read it heedlessly and find it old. But who that reads it with a wistful heart will ever have this experience? "I sometimes look back," said one, "to those simple days when my spiritual life was commencing, when I used to go forth to my labours with the New Testament in my pocket, that I might glance over its pages at the next leisure moment. I read it with fresh, unworn, unspeakable interest. It was like Adam's first walk in Paradise." It has been told of some saints whose minds had in their day roamed over the field of knowledge, that as life drew up to the end they read almost nothing except the Bible, feeling every time that they were only beginning to understand it.