IN this passage we are introduced to two other opposing forces; first, the opposition of the false king Herod, which was threatened; secondly, that of the multitudes, which did not seem to be opposition, but which Christ treated as hindrance rather than help.

To see this division of our paragraph is to understand the place of these narratives in the history of the King.

Let us, then, carefully notice its structure. First observe the connection between verses one and two, and verse thirteen. "At that season Herod the tetrarch heard the report concerning Jesus, and said unto his servants, This is John the Baptist; he is risen from the dead; and therefore do these powers work in him." "Now when Jesus heard it, He withdrew." That is the true connection. Verse thirteen should be read, as to the continuity of the story, in immediate connection with verses one and two. It was not when He heard the story of the death of John. That had taken place before, and is introduced here for a special purpose, as we shall see. It was when Jesus heard what Herod the tetrarch was saying concerning Him that "He withdrew from thence in a boat, to a desert place apart."

In verses three to twelve we have the story of the murder of John, told here because of the light it throws upon the character of Herod, and because it explains Herod's attitude at that time toward Jesus. Herod heard of the fame of Jesus, of the mighty works that were manifesting themselves wherever He went, and he said, "This is John the Baptist risen from the dead." We do not understand that opinion, until we have read the story that follows of how Herod had rid himself of John, and until we begin to enter into the feelings of Herod, and remember how a guilty conscience makes cowards of us all. It was the cry of a terror-stricken conscience, but it created his attitude toward the Christ. When, presently, he pulled himself together, he in all probability said: Of course it is not John the Baptist, but it is another who is saying similar things; I must be rid of him. Opposition threatened the King therefore from that quarter. When Jesus heard that His claim had reached the Herodian dwelling, and that Herod was at first afraid, He withdrew thus in a boat, and departed to a desert place, for Herod's case was utterly hopeless. It is at this act of Jesus, that we must look very carefully.

In John's Gospel we have an explanation of the action of Jesus, when He withdrew from the multitude. It was when He found they would take Him by force and make Him King, that He withdrew. Our King is seen therefore withdrawing Himself from the fear and opposition of the false king; and He is seen moreover withdrawing Himself from the desire of the multitude to crown Him under certain clearly denned conditions.

First, the attitude of Herod. The story of Herod is the most terrible in the whole of the New Testament. We will only touch upon certain points which are necessary to our understanding of his relation to our King. Herod was a tetrarch-that is, the ruler of a fourth part-who claimed the title of king. That sentence should be enough to give us an insight to one side of his character. He was not a king in the true sense of the word, but one who held rule under authority; and yet he was a man who was rebellious against the authority under - which he held sway, and had, as far as possible, established for himself the full courtly life and regime. He was ambitious, aspiring, and rebellious politically. Think again of the man himself. It is an astonishing fact, and one revealing the condition of the age, that he was a descendant of Esau, reigning over a portion of the children of Jacob. He was a dissolute man, giving himself over to all excesses, yet he was a man troubled with a conscience, and perpetually refusing to obey its call. If we trace the story of Herod, we find there was a day when he heard John gladly. In all probability, setting aside for some brief hour the purple of his royalty, he found his way to the prophet to listen to him, and he had come very near the Kingdom which John had proclaimed. Even in that hour of drunken and shameless debauch, in which he ordered the murder of John, there are the evidences of the pain of his conscience. He did not desire to kill John; and yet he did so. It was an hour of drunken and shameless revelry, an hour in which the central attraction was something sprung upon a half-drunken crowd, the dancing of a shameless wanton. It was an hour that becomes most tragic and awful, when we look carefully at this man Herod; an hour when he felt himself bound by the maudlin honour of an evil oath to violate every principle of right and truth. "For the sake of his oaths." Notice the plural in the Revised. He had repeated his oath more than once, as a drunken man will, the oath that had come out of his diabolic animalism, that had come under the false inspiration of drink. When shall we be rid of the idea that because we have said a thing, it must be done? If we have taken an oath that violates righteousness, let us break it before the sun sinks. If under some stress we have sworn an oath, let us not think we save our conscience by keeping it; if the oath be evil, then we sear our conscience and spoil it, and wrong ourselves in the keeping of it.

The reports of Jesus reached this man. There came, through the crowds of men about him, the sycophants who had helped him in his baseness, news of some new Power working through the district, doing mighty deeds, speaking wondrous words; and the king, shaking in his purple, said, " This is John the Baptist, he is risen from the dead; and therefore do these powers work in him." There is hardly any doubt that Herod was of the sect of the Sadducees. It has been said he could not be a Sadducee, because he spoke of John's rising from the dead. But that is to forget that in a moment .when conscience troubles, a man's false philosophy generally breaks down. Herod's Sadducean philosophy was forgotten as he said, "This is John the Baptist, he is risen from the dead." He was nearer accuracy than he knew, or would have acknowledged, perhaps five minutes after. You cannot murder truth, though you may silence the voice that utters it. It filled him with alarm, and the issue of it must inevitably be a new antagonism to Jesus Christ, for it is a remarkable fact that frenzy born of fear will do the most foolhardy things. Even if he really did believe that this was John the Baptist risen from the dead, that there was a reincarnation of the prophet, under whom he had been almost persuaded; that would not hinder the man who had violated his conscience and refused the claim of truth, from attempting to lay unholy hands upon him.

That is a very graphic picture which Jesus once drew of a man who had passed the borderline, and was lost, and who said, "Father Abraham, have mercy on me-I have five brethren," send Lazarus to them. And the answer was startling and strange, Christ's own interpretation of Heaven's estimate, however we may account for it; "They have Moses and the prophets, let them hear them if they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded, if one rise from the dead." And if Herod would not listen to John, living, he would not listen to him risen from the dead. If Herod would not listen to John ere he murdered him, he would attempt to murder him again, though he came back from the dead. There was a frenzy in his soul as well as a terror; there was a determined opposition to that which he once rejected in the fear that paralyzed him; and, "When Jesus heard it, He withdrew from thence in a boat."

This withdrawal of Christ was final. Herod never saw Jesus until Pilate sent Him to him, a few hours before His death. He had long wanted to see Him, and he had been intensely curious about Him; and it is an awful fact that he and Pilate were made friends over the death of Jesus. Herod never heard a single accent of the voice of Jesus. Though he cross-questioned Him, gathered his soldiers about Him, laughed at Him, mocked Him, made sport of Him, and put Him to shame, through the whole process Christ never opened His mouth. There are men for whom Christ has no word. But what a fearful revelation it is of Herod's condition! How far this man must have gone in his determined opposition to truth, before Jesus would be silenced! Upon the very cross, in the midst of all the mystery of His dying pain, a malefactor who demanded His attention, received His pity, and before His glazing eyes the dying Christ flung open the pearly gates of God's own Kingdom to let him in. Yet He had not a word for Herod.

Why did Jesus withdraw Himself? It was the attitude of the true King towards the false. He once sent Herod a message; "Go and say to that fox, Behold, I cast out demons and perform cures to-day and to-morrow, and the third day I am perfected. Nevertheless I must go on My way to-day and tomorrow, and the day following; for it cannot be that a prophet perish out of Jerusalem" (Luk 13:32-33). Mark the pathetic majesty of this word of Jesus to Herod. It is reported that Herod would kill Thee, said the Pharisees, and with the only touch of contempt we ever find in the words of Jesus, He said, "Go and say to that fox," go tell him that he is helpless, there is no fear in My heart of him, he cannot kill Me until I have done My day's work. I have three days' work to do-this was figurative, poetic-two of them will be for works of wonder wrought in the sight of men, the third will be a day of mystery and darkness and passion, the perfecting day. So that when He withdrew, it was not for fear of Herod, but it was because the two days' work was not yet finished. The hour had not yet come for the third day's mystery and perfecting; and He passed with quiet dignity out of the reach of the man, left him to his terror, his fear, and his frenzy; abandoned him.

There are occasions when it seems as though men are rejecting Jesus; when as a matter of fact, He is rejecting them. He never rejects a man until the man rejects Him; but there is a moment when the line is crossed. We often speak of Jerusalem's rejection of Christ. Never forget that we have not told all the story until we remember that there came a day when He went back to Jerusalem officially, with Kingly dignity, and rejected it. There were tears in His voice, there was pain in His heart when He did it, for God's act of judgment is always a strange act. There was a day when He looked out over Jerusalem and said, "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem-how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her own brood tinder her wings, and ye would not!

Then the scene strangely changes. Christ, escaping to a desert place, there found the ubiquitous crowd waiting for Him. One never reads these stories without noticing how the multitudes flocked after Him. Then follows the story of the feeding, a beautiful story in itself, which we must pass over now so far as making any application of it to our own condition is concerned. He had fed the multitudes, and again He withdrew. In John's Gospel we find an explanation of Christ's withdrawal in this case. "When therefore the people saw the sign which He did, they said, This is of a truth the prophet that cometh into the world. Jesus therefore perceiving that they were about to come and take Him by force, to make Him King, withdrew again into the mountain Himself alone" (Joh 6:14-15). There Jesus is seen withdrawing from Kingship. He had just fed five thousand men, besides women and children; and they were gathering around Him, most likely consulting in crowds, and He saw the popular will and wish to compel Him to become their King. It was one of those tense moments when a man may do anything with a crowd. Jesus Christ might at that moment have been crowned King, He might have gathered that five thousand men about Him and led them up against Jerusalem, not to victory perhaps, but He might have roused them. It was an electric moment. They were determined to have Him for their King. It was His chance, His opportunity, even the disciples might have said. But what was the motive behind the popular acclaim? Their motive was that of the material benefit they found He was able to bestow. If this Man can feed us as He has done, with five loaves and two fishes, let us crown Hun; we can have perpetual spring-time, perpetual harvest, perpetual plenty. There will be no more sighing or material discomfort; let us crown Him. The motive was material.

And then mark the method; Let us take Him by force, and make Him King; which may mean, either let us compel Him to the Kingship, or let Him claim His Kingdom by force. What was Jesus' answer to this attitude? Refusal. He refused the motive, He refused the method. He would not be made King upon any such basis. It is well to remember to-day that Jesus Christ declines to be made King upon the basis of His ability to feed hungry men with material bread. If we will make Him King as He ought to be made King, He will take care of all the things that follow; but He will not begin there. We cannot make Jesus King of the social order, until we have made Him King of the spiritual fact at the centre of our being. He refused the method of force, He dismissed the multitude, first sending His disciples away. Perhaps there was a touch of sweet art and high policy in the sending of the disciples away, knowing they would side with the multitude. They were always attempting to force Him. There are some who believe that Judas's action in betraying Him, was an attempt to force Him to take up His Kingdom. After He was risen they came back with the same old question, "Dost Thou at this time restore the kingdom to Israel?" Art Thou not going to do something?

So He sent them away first, very tenderly and beautifully, over the lake out of the way of the crisis, for He alone was equal to it. Alone He dismissed the multitudes, and went to the mountain. We have no account of what He said or did in the mountain when He was alone. One feels one would have liked to go with Him. But it is only permitted for us reverently to see Him as He turned His back upon the false king Herod, and upon the false thinking of the multitudes to look into the face of Him from Whom He should receive the Kingdom, the One Whose Throne He was here to establish and defend, and bring men into relationship with, as He turned from the clamour of the crowd that fain would have... crowned-Him.'' The real meaning of this act of Jesus is to be gathered from a study of the discourse chronicled by John wherein, on the next day, coming back to the crowds, Jesus reopened the question of that feeding of the multitude, and rebuked them because they were still materialized, seeking Him not because they saw signs, not even because of the wonder of what He did, but because they ate of the loaves, and were filled. In that discourse, following His action of turning His back upon the crowds, is contained the rebuke of all material ideals, and His enforcement of the fact of the supremacy of the spiritual.

And now, in conclusion, let us take these two movements in our study, and ask, What have they to say to us? Very solemnly one looks back at Christ's attitude toward Herod, and remembers that Christ's victories over corrupt rule were gained by withdrawal from that rule. There are things which are self-destructive. To such He makes no appearance. To such He utters no word. He leaves all the false rule and authority to work out its own inevitable destruction. Herod's curiosity was for ever unsatisfied. Herod's opposition was always eluded. Herod's doom was sealed by his own choice; and all that Jesus did for the ensuring of his doom was, when he had chosen, to let him alone. Oh, is there not in that some voice for us also? Is there not in it more than the message to kings and those in authority? How often have we put Him away when He has come to us? Remember if He goes, He abides by our decision; and that is our unutterable undoing. He has nothing to do save to leave us alone.

But turn to the other side. What are we to learn from Christ's attitude to the crowd? That Christ fed the multitudes despite their sin and despite their folly. Christ did not even ask that they should bring a recommendation from the synagogue, before He gave them a meal. He took them just as they were, the hungry crowd; and we cannot gather together five thousand men, beside women and children, without having a strange assortment. He never asked a question about character. He fed them because they were hungry, and a hungry man, if he is the worst in the city, touches the heart of God with pity, and it is for us to feed him. Jesus did not begin by saying to a man, If you will enter My Kingdom, I will feed you. He fed him. But then He will not let a man say, Now, because You have fed me I will come into Thy Kingdom. No, a man must begin somewhere else. I will feed you, I will care for you, My pity will manifest itself in benevolent activity toward you, even though you are going to crucify Me. But I will not be crowned King upon the basis of that feeding. He will not ascend the throne of our life on that basis. He does not begin in .the accidentals but in the essential. He does not base His throne upon the shifting sand of a man's material needs; He must establish it upon the rock of a man's spiritual recognition and spiritual life. He begins in the realm of spirit, but having begun there He proceeds through all the life, and the man who crowns Him honestly in the depth of his spiritual nature, may rest assured that He will take under His care and guidance and provision all his -material life, and all his mental life.

It may be He will make poorer instead of richer; one of the most beneficent things that could happen to some. To crown Christ in the spiritual, and to obey Him, is sometimes to have to disgorge in the material. Jesus Christ will only be crowned upon the basis of Deity, the spiritual in us finding essential Deity in Him and bowing to it. When we do that He comes to us as King, and when He comes, He comes to break oppression, to set the prisoner free! May God help us to crown Him there, and so to find His gifts extending through all our lives.

THE picture at which we are now to look stands in remarkable contrast to three which have immediately preceded it. All the outstanding facts noticed in them are revealed by contrast more clearly in this story. The first picture ended with the words, "He did not many mighty works there because of their unbelief;" but in this picture we see Him working one of His mightiest works. In the second picture we saw Him hiding Himself from a man who was afraid of Him, imagining that He was an apparition; in this picture the disciples also said, "It is a ghost;" they also being filled with fear; but instead of hiding Himself from them, He came nearer, and said, "Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid." In the third case we saw that He declined to be crowned upon the conditions which men desired; but in this picture we see Him holding the reins, and swaying the sceptre, and manipulating all events. Here we see Him the crowned Lord, in the midst of His own Kingdom. It was a poor Kingdom, measured by all the standards of men, just a frail fisherman's rowing boat, in the midst of a storm-tossed sea; a boat that the men who knew it best were absolutely failing to manage. Nevertheless, that little boat in the midst of the sea, that handful of men, that One Lord and Master; constituted God's established Kingdom in the world at that moment. His own had refused Him at Nazareth. The reigning authority, Herod, was seeking to find Him, probably that he might deal with Him as he had dealt with John. The multitudes would have been glad to have Him if He would have come to the throne on the basis of feeding them without work. He had left Nazareth, He had turned His back on Herod, and He had declined the Kingdom; and here He was in the midst of His Kingdom in that little boat, in which all God's enterprises were embarked. If we had known it at the moment, and had stood on the seashore, and had looked, we should have been as much afraid about God's Kingdom in the world as we are sometimes still. We should have imagined that the next wave would have engulfed the little boat, as we sometimes still think the next wave will destroy God's programme and God's purpose. So it is well for us to look back at the actual picture of Christ's Kingdom at that moment; and then to see how far it has spread, and to observe it in contrast with other things, that we may learn lessons of permanent value for our own help.

Notice first, then, the contrast between this picture and the other three a little more fully. First, "He did not many mighty works there because of their unbelief." Why was it that here He could do such a mighty work? Because here faith reposed in Him. You say that it was frail faith, and faulty faith, and failing faith. Yes, but it was simple faith, and convinced faith. Faith may often falter, and yet never finally fail. Faith may often tremble, and yet still continue to be faith. Faith does not always mean the fully instructed intellect grasping the whole fact. The faith that saves is a personal confidence in Christ. And that is what these men on the boat possessed. He came from the loneliness of the mountain, and prayer, to men who believed in Him. And again we have a revelation of uttermost importance-that we sterilize the power of the Christ when we are merely critical in His presence, but we create an atmosphere in which He can do His mighty works, when our faith simply and quietly takes hold upon Him. It is the difference between the Nazareth picture, and the sea picture. In the one case, we see men who thought they knew all about Him and refused to accept the things that astonished them; and because of their criticism He could do nothing. But He came to these be wildered, blundering men who had come to Him, and stilled the sea, and hushed the wind and made His power manifest.

Now look again at the next contrast; and notice the difference between the case of His hiding and the case of His revelation. On both occasions men took Him for something supernatural, strange, or, to use that very expressive Scotch word, uncanny. In the one case we see a. man who was afraid of the mystic, who expressed himself imperfectly, hardly believing what he said for-we cannot really think Herod believed it was John the Baptist; it was just an exclamation of a panic-stricken conscience;-from that man He hid Himself, because he had deliberately and positively shut his eyes in the presence of light, and stopped his ears in the presence of truth, and sold his soul to keep a false oath made to a dancing wanton.

But on the other hand we see men who, in spite of all their failure, in spite of all their faltering, in spite of all their shortcoming, were true to the light they had received, and to them He revealed Himself. At that very moment they were doing a difficult thing. He had sent them in a boat to the other side of the sea. Matthew tells the story with artless simplicity. "The boat was now in the midst of the sea, distressed by the waves; for the wind was contrary." Think of it for a moment, and what it reveals. What should we have done under like circumstances? The probability is that, being as these men were, accustomed to the storms on Galilee, well able to manage the boat, "we should have turned the boat round and run with the wind, for all the difficulty came out of the fact that the wind was contrary. It is not easy to turn a boat against the wind, but even that is easier than continuing to proceed against the wind. Why did they not do that? Because He had said, Cross to the other side; and it was their loyalty to Him which kept them in the place of peril. He had pointed to the other shore, and those blundering, frail, faulty men; men so much like ourselves that we are bound to love them when we read of them, were at any rate true enough to what they knew, to keep the prow pointing to the shore He indicated for them. Consequently He came to them, and when their hearts were sick with fear in the presence of the apparition, with splendid cheerfulness He spoke out of the mystery and said, "Be of good cheer; It is I; be not afraid."

Finally notice the contrast between this story, and the story of His refusal to be crowned. We have dwelt at length with His refusal to be crowned as indicating the perpetual principle that He will never be crowned upon the basis of supplying material things. He will supply material things, but we must crown Him for other reasons. Now here were men over whom He exercised the sway of a great Kingship. Where is the contrast? First, they were obedient men. Nay, we may go further back, they were, first, surrendered men. They were the men who constituted His Kingdom up to that moment, not the crowds that He fed. They were obedient men; they had set the prow of their vessel in the direction He had indicated. They were distressed men, distressed by the waves and the contrary wind. As the story goes forward, we see them to be men strangely perplexed by His coming, by this apparition. And yet as we watch them a little longer, we see they were men who out of the midst of their perplexity, when suddenly light broke upon them, were venturesome. Peter was the spokesman again; just a little in front of the others in the matter; he said, "Lord, if it be Thou, bid me come unto Thee upon the waters." In the next place they were men who were liable to fail even in their venture of faith. Peter came and walked upon the water. Some men criticize Peter and say he had no right to do it, that it was presumption. Christ said, "Come," and He never invites us to do anything that is presumptuous. Some pictures represent Peter as leaving the boat and beginning to sink at once. No. "Peter . . . walked upon the waters to come to Jesus." He did the thing he wanted to do; he made the venture of faith, and achieved the victory of faith. And yet we see that he failed also. There was a moment when he took his eyes off his Lord and fixed them upon the surrounding circumstances, and he went down. To do that is always to sink.

And yet what is the last thing recorded? They worshipped Jesus. "And they that were in the boat worshipped Him, saying, Of a truth Thou art the Son of God." It was not a Kingdom of perfect souls, but it was a Kingdom of souls that had put their trust in Him, and over whom He was reigning in order to make them perfect, patiently leading them on, waiting for them, halting by them, attempting to lead them by rapid stages, for " He would have passed by them," says one of the Evangelists. He tried their faith, but when faith was unequal to the strain He turned to them and delivered them. It is a perfect picture of His Kingdom as it is to-day. These were the men who had crowned Him upon the basis of the essential truth He had presented to them, who had crowned Him upon the basis of the spiritual within them. And He delivered them in the hour of material difficulty.

Let us look at this story from another standpoint. If in its setting it is a revelation of essential truth concerning His Kingdom by a contrast with the other pictures, then it remains for evermore a picture of Jesus in relation to His Church. There may be many applications, but we will confine ourselves to one. Here we have the revelation of our Lord's relation to His people in the times of difficulty and trouble and peril, which come to them because of their loyalty to His supreme, will. One would not wish to take this story away from any tempest-tossed soul whatever may be the nature of the tempest; and yet it would not appear that this message is to those who may be in sorrow or in difficulty or in the midst of tempest as the result of their own disobedience. It seems to exclude them from this story, but it does not exclude them from the Christ. Whatever difficulty we have found our way into-and we have found our way into more difficulties through disobedience than obedience He is always there to help us out. Peter got into difficulty when he sank, through failure, and the Lord was there "immediately." It is one of those words which ought to be printed in gold, and hung up in view of all faltering souls-"IMMEDIATELY!" He then said to him, " O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?" One would rather have missed the touch of His hand, and have missed the rebuke. But if we fall as Peter "fell, and sink, thank God for the quick hand of our Lord, which is always there.

But the essential values of this are for obedient souls in difficulty. First we see the perfect picture of the relationship of Christ to His people to-day. When this story opens He was on the mountain alone with God. It was one of those rare and beautiful and brief occasions in which He broke away from the pressure of the crowd and was alone with God. It was His place of rest, of joy, of quietness, of perfect peace. His disciples were on the sea, where He put them, in the place of peril. He was in lie place of calm restfulness; they were in the place where the storm might sweep at any moment. Such is the contrast between the attitude of Jesus our Master now, and ourselves. He has reached the right hand of His Father. All of us are on the sea. There are some who know nothing of storms. Thank God for every sunshiny day, with blue sky and sea; but the storm may come. That is the first contrast, He in the place of rest, we in the place of toil; He in the place of perfect calm, we in the place where the hurricanes may sweep at any moment.

What next? The storm which came to Gennesaret was one of those hurricanes about which we know so little, sweeping down upon the men ere they knew it, tossing wave upon wave, the whole sky black with a sudden blackness, and they, in imminent peril of their lives. Where was their Lord? First, notice that He had never lost sight of them, though He was on the mountain and they were on the sea. So now, He will have even His rest and communion broken in upon if His own people are in trouble, and He will never rest perfectly in high heaven so long as His own are tempest-tossed upon the sea of the little while. He turned His back upon the mountain, and treading its slopes, and crossing the intervening space, He put His feet upon the waters, and mark this, as He went to them, in overtaking them, He went in the way they had gone. He did not meet them as from the other side; He followed them. He went to them over the very waters that threatened to engulf them, easily Master of them all; through the very wind that was contrary to them, it seeming to open its doors as He came with easy, quiet majesty.

Is this not a revelation that should give us peace? The billows perhaps are breaking upon the frail craft of some soul, some child of God, and all the storm that is being experienced is because he is where God has put him. But he is in the path of obedience and he knows it; no one can rob him of that sweet consciousness and conviction. But Christ does not seem to be near; He seems to be away in the day of tempest, and trial, and storm. That soul says, I was in a storm once before, and He was on the vessel and I could wake Hun, but He is not here to-day, this is different. Ah, but He knows, He is coming. It is too dark for you to see Him yet, but He is coming. He cannot leave you alone to perish. And mark this, He is coming over the very waves you are most afraid of. The very waves that threaten to buffet and break you to pieces are the pavement for His blessed feet. "But you say, it is not the waves, it is the contrary wind; if I could only turn round and run with the wind. But He is coming through that wind, and as the waves become adamant at the touch of His feet, the wind loses its power to hinder, when the majesty of His presence confronts, it.

But look again at our picture. The darkest part of the dark night to those men was not the darkness of the clouds, not the terror of the wind, not the threatening billows; the most terrible thing in all that night was the phantom. They forgot all about the storm as they peered over the side of the vessel at the strange phantom approaching them over the waters. They were for the most part rough-handed fishermen. They knew the use of the oar. The storm was more than usually severe; they could fight that, but they could not fight a ghost. The most terrible troubles that come to us are the unexplained, and the unexplainable things. There are troubles very severe, but they are common to all men. We expect them, they must come presently. But once or twice in the course of a lifetime, there come to every man and woman days of great horror of darkness that have no explanation. "Mine own familiar friend in whom I trusted; who did eat of my bread! hath lifted up his heel against me." That is an almost unsurpassed horror of darkness. It may be you have never known it, it may be you never will; God grant you never may. It was trouble inexplicable that came to them that night. As they strained in their looking out over the side of the ship at this strange apparition, this phantom of the night, suddenly it took voice and said, "Be of good cheer; it is I." That is a part of the story where exposition fails. We cannot explain it; it is so simple a story, we are so familiar with it.

But what is the spiritual value here for a tempest-tossed soul? That almost invariably to the soul that is really trusting and true, the darkest hour is the dawning of the clearest day; the direst sorrow of the heart is that out of which the chief joy of life comes; the most brutal bruising of the vintage is that out of which the finest wine comes forth. The phantom is the Master. The hours that some of us would be most loath to have undone in our past are the hours of our greatest sorrows. It was in them we found Him; it was in them we heard the infinite music saying, "Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid." We may do without that yesterday of sunshine, but not without that day before, of shadow. It was out of that He came close to us. We have all sorts of little proverbs, some of them very true, and some of them very foolish; but a proverb we make great use of is, "Man's extremity is God's opportunity." Quite true! But let us revise it thus-Man's extremity is man's opportunity for finding God. It is in the hour of greatest heart-ache that we find Him. Be still, sad heart, if it be possible ; wait, rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for Hun, and presently you will look back to the day of your unutterable agony, and you will say, For that day above all days His name be praised; out of that darkness came the light; out of that bitterness came the sweetness; out of that mysterious phantom chilling my heart and well-nigh stopping my pulses, came my Lord, warming my heart and making every fibre pulsate with new joy and new enthusiasm.

Let us take one thing more out of this story. Matthew says, They gladly received Him on board, and they crossed over. Mark says, He came on board, and they crossed over, they finished the journey. But John says something else, "They were willing to receive Him into the boat; and straightway the boat was at the land whither they were going." What are we to understand by that word of John? Are we to understand there was a miracle wrought there; that the ship in the midst of the sea finished the journey by the annihilation of time and space? In our eagerness to retain all the miracles we need not be eager to read miracles into things that are not miracles. John the mystic, John the lover, John the man who talks most about fellowship says, When He came on board we were there directly. Did not John go as far as the rest? "Straightway!" Every youth and maiden who is in love understands that. A long journey may be covered in what seems but a few moments. "Straightway the boat was at the land whither they were going." The storms are about us yet, and He is trying our faith by being absent from us, or so it seems. We are never far from Him nor He from us. He is coming over the waters and through the wind. Presently in the company of the King, we shall be home, and we shall hear His voice more clearly and see His face perfectly. O that God may help us to be so true to Him that He may be able to correct all our faltering and failing! May we be in His Kingdom, and He our King.