The imperial Constantine, robed in the purple of nearly universal empire, in the gorgeous palace of Nicomedia, surrounded with all the pomp and splendor of an Oriental monarch, finds his heart yearn for those consolations which the religion of Jesus alone can give. He bows his head to the water of baptism; he partakes of the sacred bread and wine of the Lord’s Supper, solemnly, devoutly, tearfully; and finally, when sinking away in death, he breathes the prayer, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” A few centuries rolled away, and there was another monarch, the Emperor Charles V., whose sceptre ruled almost the whole known world. Weary of life, and oppressed with the sense of sin, he sought a religious retreat in the solitary Vale of Estremadura. In the cloisters of the Convent of St. Justus the abdicated emperor wept over his sins, and sought forgiveness through the atoning Saviour. He announced to the whole world his penitence, and his trust in Jesus. The regal mind, which had proudly stood untottering beneath the cares of universal empire, bowed in humble submission to the religion of Jesus, which alone can meet the yearnings of the humble and contrite soul. A few centuries pass, and another emperor arises who attracts the gaze of the world. Neither Constantine nor Charles V. wielded a sceptre, which, in the elements of grandeur and power, surpassed that of Napoleon I. Look at the dethroned monarch, as, through the long agony of St. Helena, he sinks into the grave. He, before whose imperial will all Europe had bowed, was dying upon his miserable pallet at Longwood. That eagle eye was dimmed with tears, as, bolstered up in his bed, with penitence for sin, and avowed trust in the atoning Saviour, he received the emblems of that body which was broken, and that blood which was shed, for our sins: then, a peaceful penitent, surrendering himself to the arms of that Saviour who has said, “Whoso cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out,” he fell asleep; we trust, “Asleep in Jesus!――blessed sleep! From which none ever wake to weep.” How signal are these triumphs of Christianity!――triumphs which fill so many pages of history and biography. How beautiful is this religion of Jesus in its adaptation to every conceivable condition and want of life! The Emperor Constantine, master of the world, with almost limitless power in his hand and boundless wealth in his lap, needs this religion just as much as the humblest slave or the feeblest child in his realms. There is no royal road to heaven. Constantine, like all others, could only find peace by penitence for sin, the public acknowledgment of his faith in an atoning Saviour, and the prayerful consecration of himself to God. You and I, my readers, can find salvation only where Constantine found it. There is but one door through which we can enter the heavenly kingdom: that door is Christ. CHAPTER XVII.