He realised in an uncommon degree the love shown in the coming and death of the Lord Jesus. The thought of it would often melt his soul and overpower him for the time. Now, _such_ love, _so_ realised, will always produce the reality of love. No doubt there was much of tender feeling and deep affection in the natural character. But these were increased a thousand fold by Grace. You could not look at him without being struck by this. His heart looked out at his eyes, and that look was a whole sermon upon love. Nor was it a mere sentiment. Love, to be love, must act, and you know the forms which that action took in his case. He loved and cared much for the bodies of men. Many of you now present can testify to this. Many hereafter will rise up and call him blessed. But he loved and cared for _souls_ more. Nothing could exceed the affectionate desirousness or the overflowing tenderness of his love for sinners. By every means in his power he would labour to bring Christ to them, or them to Christ. I cannot dwell upon all the means he used. His care to appoint godly ministers over the churches for which he was a trustee—his open-handed support of every society which put Christ in His right place—these are as well known to you as to me. I would rather recall his personal efforts to make known the Gospel which was his own life. Many of you, brethren, can bear me witness that by the space of many years he did not shun to declare by lip and life, by word and walk, the whole counsel of God. He was emphatically one of that class who, to use the words of a poor man in London, “carry their religion to other people’s houses.” You know how he exhorted, and comforted, and taught; and that nothing made him an happy as the telling out the story of the Cross, or seeing the change which it could work upon the soul. What a striking instance of the activity of his love was given in one of his dying testimonies:—“Whilst I have power to speak it must be of Salvation for ever and ever!” And this life was as unselfish as it was active. As Christ pleaded not Himself, so did His servant strive to act. There was no living to self. As Jesus was the spring, so Jesus was the aim of the whole life. It was ever, “Lord, what wilt _thou_ have me to do?”—ever—“Lord, not my will but _thine_ be done!” Brethren, _consider this conversation_—so humble, so loving, to unselfish. Look at it. Lay your own lives down by the side of it. Test them—not by what there was of the man, but by what there was of the Master. See what the testing says; and then rise up, sadder possibly by the comparison, yet wiser—humbled, but yet hopeful. For He who wrought here, works still, and loves to work, for all who seek it at His hand. II. Yet one point remains. “_Consider the end of their conversation_.”