behind, because it is borne onward by the all-sufficient breeze of love, and sings with the poet:

Then why, O blessed Jesus Christ!
Should I not love thee well?

Not for the hope of winning heaven,
Nor of escaping hell.

Not with the hope of gaining aught;

Not seeking a reward;

But as thyself hast loved me,
O ever-loving Lord!

E'en so I love thee, and will love,
And in thy praise will sing;
Solely because thou art my God,
And my eternal King.

Such is the possible and proper and normal condition of the believer. Why, then, does the Christian ever fear? Simply because he leaves Christ and comes down to the low ground of unbelief and sin. Fear is the shadow of sin. As sin grows less, so will fear grow less; when sin comes to an end, fear will come to an end also. As Christ is the Saviour from sin then, so he is the Saviour from fear. Fear is meant all through our experience to show us our need of Christ and to drive us to Christ, the refuge of sinners. When we first come to Christ and renounce our sins the dominion of fear is broken. But it resumes its power whenever we go back to sin, and warns us, then, that we must return to Christ in new submission, or have our portion with the hypocrites. But, on the other hand, the nearer we are to Christ and the farther from sin, the farther we are from fear. As we merge our lives more and more by faith in the all-conquering life

of the Redeemer, fear gradually dies away and love takes its place. And when at last we see Christ as he is and are prefectly like him, the last possibility of sin and the last possibility of fear will die together. May our gracious Lord lead you all along this happy path of a growing Christian experience! Be willing to let him draw you even by fear, if need be, for when fear has served its purpose, he will break its power, and delivering you from it more and more as he delivers you from sin, will lead you onward step by step to that blessed state where "perfect love casts out all fear."

Thirty-eight years ago a student of Yale College was roused to see the worthlessness and wickedness of his past life and to cherish poignant fears for the future. Fear led him to break away from his sins, to seek the counsel of religious friends, to announce his determination to live as a Christian. God blessed his decision, and made it the means of changing his own life and the lives of many others. That young man is older now, but he has never ceased to be thankful that God sent fear to arrest him in his course and to

bring him to repentance and faith. And he urges upon all college men who have not yet begun to live for God a like fear, a like decision, a like faith. Would to God that I might induce some of you, my friends, this very day, to renounce all evil and to enter upon the service of Christ! If you will not be moved by love, be moved by fear, for the fear of the Lord, if it is not the end, is at least the beginning, of wisdom!

XXXII

PAUL'S THORN IN THE FLESH1

And by reason of the exceeding greatness of the revelations, wherefore, that I should not be exalted overmuch, there was given to me a thorn in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to buffet me, that I should not be exalted overmuch. Concerning this thing I besought the Lord thrice, that it might depart from me. And he hath said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my power is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. (2 Cor. 12:7-9.)

PAUL'S life, like Christ's, was one of great contrasts— Jesus went up to the Mount of Transfiguration, but he also went down to the Garden of Gethsemane; Paul had visions and revelations of the Lord, but he also had a messenger of Satan to buffet him.

The vision of which the apostle here speaks is not recorded in the book of Acts. He himself tells us that it was more than fourteen years before the time when he wrote this epistle to the Corinthians. This would place it during his sojourn in Antioch, before his first missionary journey began. The vision indeed was a sort of divine preparation for his missionary activity, as the transfiguration of Christ was a preparation for his redemptive suffering upon the cross. For once Paul was caught up into the third heaven

1 A sermon preached in the First Baptist Church, New Britain, Conn., June 27, 1897.

and heard unspeakable words, words that it would be wrong to speak on account of their sacredness. For once he who was to be a marvel of independent activity became the object of another's activity, was carried out of himself, was played upon as a passive instrument, was merged in the life and power of his Lord. Was it to show him that his seeming independence was after all only another manifestation of Christ, and that Christ was his only source of strength?

However this may be, the contrast quickly came. That the revelation might not unduly exalt him, there was given to him a thorn in the flesh. It is Paul's Thorn in the Flesh that I take for my theme. The first question that arises is with regard to the nature of this thorn. What was the thorn in the flesh of which Paul speaks? Interpreters have widely differed here. Some have believed that spiritual assaults must be meant, such as blasphemous thoughts or pangs of conscience on account of his past persecutions of the church. Others have referred it to the assaults of enemies who served Satan, or to the general afflictions and hardships of the apostolic office. Neither of these explanations seems satisfactory, because the thorn in the flesh. was, on the one hand, a thorn-some definite trouble that could be compared only to the continual piercing of a thorn; and, on the other hand, a thorn in the flesh -some bodily trouble that greatly hindered the apostle's comfort and usefulness. But granting that it was a physical infirmity to which Paul alluded, there is still a great variety of opinions as to what that physical infirmity was. Was it melancholy arising from an imperfectly nourished brain, such as possibly caused the

flight of Elijah from the threats of Jezebel? Was it headache, hemorrhage, fainting, epilepsy? Was it a constant tendency to malarial fever, as Professor Ramsay supposes? No one of these views finds corroboration in Paul's life or writings. The trial was something local, it did not weaken his general system, since his labors continued in spite of it. It was something continuous, that was always threatening his usefulness; it was something conspicuous, so that all could see it; it was something humiliating, so that it was a source of constant suffering to the apostle. Let us see whether we cannot find some clue to the nature of the malady in what Paul says of himself, and in what others say of him.

His opponents at Corinth declared of him that his bodily presence was weak. There was something about his appearance which suggested weakness. He himself felt that this ill-looking peculiarity interfered with the success of his preaching. Not only did his Corinthian enemies say that his speech was of no account, but he told them that he was with them in weakness and fear and much trembling. In his letter to the Galatians he seems to intimate that this source of weakness in his public address was a disease of the eyes. He gratefully remembers that when he first preached to them, though this infirmity of his tempted them to despise and reject his gospel, they still received him as if he had been an angel of God, nay, as if he had been Jesus Christ himself. Instead of ridiculing him, they were moved to pity. "I bear you witness," he says, "that, if possible, you would have plucked out your eyes and given them to me." It