Luke 10:29
But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, "And who is my neighbor?"
Sermons
Who is Our Neighbor?W. Clarkson Luke 10:29
The Good Samaritan, and the Good PartR.M. Edgar Luke 10:25-42
A Good SamaritanLuke 10:29-37
A Good Samaritan Among the MaorisLuke 10:29-37
Backwardness to Good WorksBishop Horne.Luke 10:29-37
Between Jerusalem and JerichoJ. Parker, D. D.Luke 10:29-37
Brotherhood of MenG. M. G. Dana.Luke 10:29-37
ChanceDr. South.Luke 10:29-37
Christian CompassionF. G. Lisco.Luke 10:29-37
Christian SocialismJ. G. Rogers, B. A.Luke 10:29-37
Christlike CompassionDr. Talmage.Luke 10:29-37
CompassionD. Thomas.Luke 10:29-37
Debt of LoveVan OostarzeeLuke 10:29-37
Entertaining the Satanic ThiefN. Rogers.Luke 10:29-37
Every Natural Man is a Wounded ManN. Rogers.Luke 10:29-37
Fallen Among ThievesC. Leach.Luke 10:29-37
Generosity and LiberalityH. W. Beecher.Luke 10:29-37
Good News for YouC. H. Spurgeon.Luke 10:29-37
Good Samaritan LoveHarless.Luke 10:29-37
Heart-CompassionN. Rogers.Luke 10:29-37
Humane AssistanceLuke 10:29-37
HumanitarianismC. S. Robinson, D. D.Luke 10:29-37
Lessons from This ParableJ. Pulling.Luke 10:29-37
Love Makes NeighboursMarcus Dods, D. D.Luke 10:29-37
Love not SelectiveW. Arnot.Luke 10:29-37
Mankind Wounded and Robbed by Sin and SatanB. Keach.Luke 10:29-37
Neighbourly KindnessLuke 10:29-37
Parable of the Good SamaritanH. M. Grout, D. D.Luke 10:29-37
Parable of the Good SamaritanJ. Burns, D. D.Luke 10:29-37
Parable of the Man Who Fell Among ThievesB. Keach.Luke 10:29-37
Personal Contact with SufferingG. M. G. Dana.Luke 10:29-37
Rescue the PerishingW. H. M. H. Aitken, M. A.Luke 10:29-37
Self-JustificationJ. Parker, D. D.Luke 10:29-37
Service of LoveVan Oostarzee.Luke 10:29-37
Sympathy More than PityC. H. Parkhurst, D. D.Luke 10:29-37
The Blessedness of Helping OthersH. R. Burton.Luke 10:29-37
The Bloody WayLuke 10:29-37
The Glory of True LoveFlorey.Luke 10:29-37
The Good SamaritanDavid O. Meats.Luke 10:29-37
The Good SamaritanW. M. Taylor, D. D.Luke 10:29-37
The Good SamaritanH. J. Wilmot-Buxton, M. A.Luke 10:29-37
The Good SamaritanC. H. Spurgeon.Luke 10:29-37
The Good SamaritanD. C. Hughes, M. A.Luke 10:29-37
The Good SamaritanD. C. Hughes, M. A.Luke 10:29-37
The Good SamaritanJ. R. Thomson, M. A.Luke 10:29-37
The Good SamaritanJ. Wells, M. A.Luke 10:29-37
The Good SamaritanW. H. M. H. Aitken, M. A.Luke 10:29-37
The Good SamaritanCanon Liddon.Luke 10:29-37
The Good SamaritanCharles Kingsley.Luke 10:29-37
The Good SamaritanProfessor Flint, D. D. , LL. D.Luke 10:29-37
The Humanity of Christianity and Other ReligionsLuke 10:29-37
The Lawyer and the SamaritanJ. A. Seiss, D. D.Luke 10:29-37
The Need of SympathyG. M. G. Dana.Luke 10:29-37
The Needy and Helpful Placed Side by Side in This WorldW. Arnot.Luke 10:29-37
The Obligation of the Strong to the WeakG. E. Horr.Luke 10:29-37
The Parable of the Good SamaritanR. Watson.Luke 10:29-37
The Priest and LeviteN. Rogers.Luke 10:29-37
The Spirit of LoveF. D. Maurice, M. A.Luke 10:29-37
Theory and Practice of HumanityW. Baxendale.Luke 10:29-37
True HelpC. H. Parkhurst, D. D.Luke 10:29-37
Unfeeling ConductC. H. Spurgeon.Luke 10:29-37
Unrelieved MiseryMarcus Dods, D. D.Luke 10:29-37
Who is My Neighbour?E. Mellor, D. D.Luke 10:29-37
Willing PhilanthropyN. Rogers.Luke 10:29-37
This was a very pertinent question, by whatsoever motive prompted. None better could possibly have been asked, for it drew forth Christ's own interpretation of his own Law. And, like the Jews of his time, we are in no little danger of limiting the Divine thought. "Who is our neighbor?" - in our thought, in our feeling and practice? Who are those we feel bound to love and help? Our kindred, those of our fellow-citizens from whom we want the interchange of civilities, our countrymen, - do we draw the line there? If so, we "have not the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ" in this matter; we are falling out of rank as his disciples. There is nothing especially Christian about the affection we feel or the kindness we show to these. Going thus far, we go no further than pagans have gone before us. We must transcend this if we are to be worthy of the name we bear. In order to be that, we must find our neighbor everywhere and in every one, but more especially in the man who has need of us. The Christian conception of "our neighbor" -

I. OVERSTEPS THE LIMIT OF RACE. It is painful to think that men have been taught to look upon those who inhabit other lands with positive enmity, so much so that even Cicero could say that the natural relation of neighboring nations was that of enmity; that whole peoples (like the Greeks and the Chinese) should treat the outer world as "barbarians" to be despised and avoided. It is foolish and illogical enough, but it has been all too common. Nothing but the prevalence of Christian principle and the permeating force of the Christian spirit will avail to lead us to love those beyond our borders, without the pale of our own civilization.

II. REMOVES THE LIMIT OF SPACE. The simple and common notion of a neighbor is that of one locally near to us. But that idea, under Christ, has been very greatly enlarged. But is true that, since he spoke, we have seemed to be further off, in space, from one another. For those to whom he spoke had no notion of the width of the world, no idea that there were fellow-men living twelve thousand miles away from them.

2. But it is also true that, since he spoke, we have been brought near to one another.

(1) Christian civilization has given us an intimate knowledge of one another, so that we know more of what is happening in India than the "dwellers in Jerusalem" knew then of the events occurring in Nazareth; and

(2) Christian zeal has made possible to us a genuine sympathy and a practical kindness. We can, by rutting a coin in a plate, help to send the light of Divine truth to men of every color, in every latitude and longitude of the habitable globe. Who is our neighbor? All men beneath all skies, and it is open to us all to do something to help the wounded pilgrim on life's highway, even in remotest lands, to health and joy and life.

III. TRANSCENDS THE LIMIT OF CHARACTER. If that lawyer had answered his own question, it is certain that he would have given a reply which would have excluded the ungodly and the immoral. But in Christ's view the neighbor we should commiserate and rescue is not only the poor traveler who has fallen among thieves, but the erring soul who has lost his way in the search of truth, and that pitiable one who has fallen into the mire of guilt and shame; those who have been smitten by the worst of all strokes, and have descended into the darkest of all shadows. Our neighbor, in the view of our Lord, is not the man who is up and who can assist us on our way, but he that is down and whom we can help to rise; he is the man who is most in need of our sympathy and our succor; he is the man who has a bruised and bleeding heart that patient, sacrificial love alone can heal. If we will go to him and help and bless him, and make ourselves "neighbor unto" him, we shall thus "fulfill the law of Christ;" and we shall thus be not only "keeping his commandment," but living his life. - C.







And who is my neighbour?
The lawyer said — "Then comes his own particular plea or excuse, to which I intend to pay little or no attention now, it was so completely and triumphantly answered by Jesus Christ. Read His parable in reply. Next to the parable of the prodigal son, it is the sweetest word ever spoken even by the lips of Jesus Christ.

I. I intend each man to fill up the sentence for himself, only having from the lawyer the preface: "He, willing to justify himself, said — "What words do you insert after the word "said"? How is it with your self-justifying and self-excusing heart? Do I hear correctly when I say you are now reasoning thus — "If I am sincere in my spirit and convictions, no matter whether I believe what is in the Bible or not, all will be well with me here and hereafter"? Is that a correct statement of what you are now thinking? It sounds well. I admit, with all candour, that it seems to sound conclusively and to admit of no refutation. Yet it surely will admit of a question or two being put, in order that we may fully understand the position. You speak of sincerity. I ask, What are you sincere in? Does anything turn upon the object of your sincerity? If you are sincerely giving to a customer over your counter what you believe to be the thing he has asked for, will you be fully justified in the day that you find you have poisoned the man? You sincerely believed that you were giving him precisely the very ingredient that he asked for, and that he had paid for, but you do not give him that ingredient, but something else, and ere the sun go down the man will be dead. What does sincerity go for there? If you indicate to a traveller, sincerely, to the best of your knowledge, the road along which he ought to go to reach a certain destination; if it be the wrong road, and if in some sudden darkness the man should fall over a precipice, will your sincerity obliterate everything like self-reproach? Were you sure it was the road? "No, but I was sincere in thinking it was." Did you explain to the man that you were speaking upon an assumption? "No, I thought there was no occasion to do so, I felt so sure." But you see that the mere element of sincerity goes a very short way in cases of that kind. We love sincerity. Without sincerity life is but a mockery, the worst of irony! But what are we sincere in? Have we ascertained that the object of our sincerity is real, true, and deserving of our confidence? We are responsible not only for the light we have, but for the light we may have. There is a sincerity of fanaticism, as well as a sincerity of philosophy. There is a sincerity of ignorance, as well as a sincerity of knowledge. Merely, therefore, to say, "I am sincere," is to say nothing. We must inquire, what is the object upon which your sincerity fixes itself'? what is the degree of its intelligence, and what is the degree of its conscience? When any man has returned clear earnest answers to these inquiries, my belief is that he will find himself short of something, and that that something which is absent will be found to be the truth as it is in Jesus — the Cross, the one Cross, out of which every other cross that is true and useful must be made!

II. But he, willing to justify himself, said, "I have been looking round, and it strikes me that I am every whir as good as other people that are about me." Would it be rude to contradict you? Will it be polite to admit the truthfulness, generally, of what you say? Either on the one hand or the other it does not touch the point at all. If the question lay between you and me, it would be right for each to compare himself with the other, and to exalt his superiority at the expense of his brother's infirmities. The case is not as between one man and another. We err in circumscribing the question so. The question is between the soul and God; between the heart and the absolutely right; between man and Jesus Christ; between right and wrong. When you compare yourself with another man, especially to your own advantage, you are not in the spirit which is likely to elicit the truth and lead you to sound and useful conclusions. Your disposition is wrong; your temper is wrong. You must cease such a method of comparing advantages and honours, and must go to the absolute and final standard of righteousness.

III. But he, willing to justify himself, said, "Though I do not believe and act as they do who call themselves Christians, yet I trust to the mercy of God." The man who makes this plea talks in some such fashion as this: "I do not care for doctrines; I do not care for churches; theologies trouble me very little indeed; if I live as wisely as I can, and do what is tolerably fair between one man and another, I shall trust to the mercy of God, and I believe all will be right at last." Do you know what you are talking about in talking so? Do you understand the value and the force of your own words? Are you aware that the word mercy is one of the words in our language which it is very difficult to understand? What is mercy? In your estimation, perhaps, it is mere physical sensibility, simple emotion — a gush of feeling. Is that mercy? No. What is mercy? The highest point of justice — justice returning and completing itself by the return. Mercy is justice in tears! Mercy is righteousness with a sword just transforming itself into a sceptre! Is mercy a mere freak of sentimentality? Do you think God will say at last, "Well, well, come in, come in, and say nothing more about it"? I would not go into His heaven if the conditions were such l It would be no heaven. Where there is not righteousness at the centre, there is no security at the circumference. Where the throne is not founded upon justice, mercy is but a momentary impulse, to be followed by a terrible recoil. What do you mean, then, when you talk about trusting to His mercy at last? Trust to His mercy at first. Where is His mercy? It is in the life, the ministry, the death, the resurrection, and the whole mediation of Jesus Christ!

IV. But he, willing to justify himself, said, "There is so much mystery about religion that I cannot really attempt to understand it." I answer, There is mystery about religion, but there is ten thousand times more mystery without it. There is mystery with the Bible, but there is nothing but mystery without it. There is a mystery of grace; yes, and there is a mystery of sin. Life is a mystery. All that is great touches the mysterious. Would I part with the mystery! Nay, verily. Are not the clouds God's as well as the blue sky? Are not the mists around the mountain tops His, as well as the bases of the mountains and the foundations of the earth? Is He Himself the living God, not the culmination of all mysteries, the sum of all wonder — the Alpha and the Omega — not to be understood, but loved and served? There is a point in my religious inquiries where I must close my eyes, look no more, but rest myself in the grand transaction which is known as faith in the Son of God.

V. But he, willing to justify himself, came at last to this: "There are so many denominations of Christians, that it is impossible to tell which is right and which is wrong." Think of a man going off on that line! Think of a man saying that he has been looking round and sees that there are so many denominations, that really he has made up his mind to give up the whole thing! Does he know what he is talking about? Is he really serious when he speaks so? Shall I follow his example? If I do it will be to show how great is his folly. "I have been looking round, and see so many different regiments in the country that really it is impossible to tell which is right and which is wrong, and I do not think I shall have anything to do with the country." Yes, there are many regiments, but one army; many denominations, but one Church; many creeds, but one faith; many aspects, but one life; many ways up the hill, but one cross on the top of it. Don't lose yourself among the diversities, when you might save yourself by looking at the unities. "There are so many mountains about, that I really do not know that there can be any truth in geography." Many mountains — one globe! Conclusion: If, then, there is not to be self-justification, what is there to be? Self-renunciation. A man must empty himself of himself before he is in the right condition to understand lovingly and gratefully the offer which Jesus Christ makes men. God guests with the contrite and companies with the self-renouncing soul. I will go to my Father, then, and will say unto Him, not, "Father, I was tempted; somebody lured me away; I did not intend to leave Thee, but I was beguiled"; but I will say unto Him, "Father, I have sinned!" This, then, is the ground of coming to God; the ground of self-denial, self-renunciation, self-distrust, self-hatred, on account of sin. "Oh! Israel, thou hast destroyed thyself, but in Me is thy help." "Come unto Me all ye that labour and are heavy laden and I will give you rest." "Jesus cried and said, If any man thirst let him come unto Me and drink." "I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly." Who accepts the invitation to-night? Some have accepted it. Pray that this word may not be spoken in vain! Some require just one more appeal, and they will decide. Take this, my friend, as the appeal you want. "Now is the accepted time; now is the day of salvation."

(J. Parker, D. D.)

1. By the man that went from Jerusalem to Jericho, I understand is meant fallen man, who originally in the first Adam went from God.

2. By "falling among thieves," may be meant that mischief and misery which hath befallen man by sin, Satan, and other enemies of the soul.

3. By "stripping him of his raiment," may be meant all our first or original righteousness. Righteousness being often compared to raiment, or to a garment.

4. By "wounding him," may be intended that sad and fearful privation of the soul in every faculty thereof by sin.

5. By "leaving him half dead," may be meant the spiritual death of the soul, which is half, nay the better half of the man.

6. By "the priest passing that way and going on one side," may be meant, the law or priesthood of Aaron; by the Levite may be meant legal sacrifices, and by their both passing by, and not pitying or helping this poor distressed man, may signify that there is no help, no cure, no salvation by the law, nor sacrifices of the law, for undone sinners.

7. By "the Samaritan," I understand is meant our Lord Jesus Christ, who is said to pass by and see us in our blood — "Now as I passed by, I looked upon thee, and saw thee polluted in thy own blood" (Ezekiel 16:6, 8). This was a blessed lock indeed, a look of pity and compassion — "When he saw him, he had compassion on him." "And he went to him," which may refer to two things.

(1)To Christ's coming into the world to assume our nature.

(2)It may refer also to His gracious coining to a wounded sinner by His Word and Spirit, in helping him to apply the virtue of His own precious blood to his wounded soul.

8. Binding up his wounds, and pouring in oil and wine, may be meant, Christ infusing of His Spirit and precious grace into his soul; grace, as well as the Holy Spirit, being compared to oil.

(B. Keach.)

I. In what respects sin and Satan may be compared to thieves.

1. Thieves are enemies to honest men, and of which they are in danger continually.

2. Thieves often in a secret and felonious manner have taken away all that men had in their possession, leaving them in a very poor and distressed condition who were very rich before.

3. Thieves many times lead poor travellers out of the king's highway, into some blind or secret place, and there bind them hand and foot, as well as take away all they have. So sin and Satan —(I) With the bond of ignorance.

(2)Hard heart.

(3)Unbelief.

4. Thieves are a great terror to honest men, and they strive to avoid them as much as they can, and also to defend themselves against them with their utmost power and skill. So the Lord Jesus arms us with spiritual armour, wisdom, and courage, to resist the flesh, world, and devil.

5. Thieves wait a fit opportunity to come upon a person or family, even when they are most secure, or asleep in their beds. So Satan and other spiritual enemies watch a fit time when a child of God is most secure, or in a sleepy or slothful condition.

II. Sin and the evil are the worst of thieves.

1. Because they are soul-thieves, and seek to rob us of our choice and chiefest treasure.

2. Because they are cruel and bloody thieves, murdering thieves.

3. Because none have escaped them.

4. Nay, and they have not only murdered the whole world of ungodly sinners, but they have also wickedly slain and murdered the Lord Jesus Christ.

5. Sin and the devil, &c., are the worst of thieves, because they are old thieves and murderers. "The devil was a murderer from the beginning" (John 8:44).

6. They are the worst of thieves, considering their great subtilty, policy, and craftiness.

7. Because of their great power and strength. Who is a match for them?

(B. Keach.)

I. The Saviour here reminds us that IN THE WORLD THERE IS SORE DISTRESS. Upon this man a band of ruffians rushed out: and, seizing, they stripped him of his raiment, beat him, and left him half dead; and all, so far as appears, with no fault of his own. There is poverty and pain and sorrow, for which the sufferer is not, at least directly, responsible. It must, however, be owned that the chief woes of the world come of sin. There are no thieves and robbers so cruel as worldliness and wrong. doing, irreligion and vice.

II. THERE ARE THOSE WHO TO ALL THIS PAY LITTLE HEED. "The priest and the Levite were both in a hurry. They had been a month at Jerusalem, and were expected and wanted at home. Their wives and children were anxiously waiting for them. The sun would soon be down, and this was a lonely road even by daylight. Neither of them understood surgery, they could not bind up a wound to save their lives. Moreover, the poor man, already half dead, would be quite dead in an hour or two, and it was a pity to waste time on a hopeless case. The robbers, too, might be back again. Then, the man might die, and the person found near the body be charged with murder." Good excuses, every one! And so it comes to pass that the world's miseries go unrelieved; the world's sins unrebuked; the world's perishing ones unsaved.

III. But, now, in contrast with all this, our Saviour shows us that, IN THE PRESENCE OF DISTRESS, TRUE LOVE, FORGETTING SELF, HASTENS TO ITS RELIEF.

(H. M. Grout, D. D.)

I. THE DISTRESSED CONDITION OF A FELLOW-CREATURE. Of what vileness men are capable — in some respects more to be dreaded than the savage beast of prey that roams abroad in the forest.

II. THE EMBODIMENT OF SELFISHNESS IN TWO TRAVELLERS WHO ARE PASSING BY.

III. AN EXHIBITION OF LOVE AND MERCY WHERE WE SHOULD NOT HAVE EXPECTED TO FIND IT.

1. The Samaritan's eye affected his heart.

2. His feet hastened to the sufferer.

3. His hands ministered to him.

IV. THE INEVITABLE CONCLUSION to which the querulous lawyer was forced.

1. Think of the Samaritan, and admire his spirit.

2. Have equally generous feelings toward all thy suffering fellow-creatures.

3. Imitate him when such circumstances shall be presented before thine eyes.Learn —

1. The fallacy of that religion which is devoid of mercy and compassion.

2. See under what an awful delusion professors of religion may live. As in the case of the priest and Levite.

3. Cherish the spirit, and imitate the conduct of the Lord Jesus — "Who went about doing good."

(J. Burns, D. D.)

1. It is not always convenient to be good. A free-and-easy manner of life is not goodness, and no more is good-nature. There is no goodness without a self-denial which runs right against self-convenience.

2. Again, it is not always agreeable to be good. Thorns lacerate the hand which gathers roses. In the Divine service the quester is not what we would prefer. No one can enjoy the scene of suffering or be gladdened by its moans — this is not natural; yet we must always relieve such wants.

3. Once again, goodness implies a heavy cost. One who is truly good never locks up his pocket-book so that he cannot be benevolent. The Samaritan was good long before he bound up the bruises of the sufferer and provided for him. The event simply evoked what he already was. We do not become good by doing such acts as these, but such acts as these declare our nature. We observe yet further, this goodness wins the respect of the world.

(David O. Meats.)

I. THAT MAN IN ALL HIS VARIETIES AND CONDITIONS IS TO BE RECOGNIZED AS OUR NEIGHBOUR AND BROTHER.

II. THAT NATIONAL PREJUDICE AND RELIGIOUS DISTINCTION SHOULD ALL GIVE PLACE TO THE EXERCISE OF CHARITY.

III. THAT IT IS OUR DUTY TO OVERCOME EVIL WITH GOOD. In conclusion; consider some motives which call for the exercise of charity.

1. The relation in which we stand to God and to one another in the present world.

2. The genius of our holy religion demands it.

(J. Pulling.)

Two things must strike every attentive reader. The first is, that the parable was not so much an answer to the question formally" put by the lawyer, as an exposure of the state of heart which the putting of that question revealed. The inquirer wanted a definition of the word "neighbour." The Lord answers by showing him true neighbourliness in contrast with selfish indifference. Thus the parable does not tell us in form who our neighbour is, but it shows us how true love works. But the second peculiarity of this parable is, that it is not an allegory, each figure in which represents a spiritual analogue; but simply an illustrative example of the working of benevolence, as contrasted with that of selfishness. It is designed to show us what we must avoid, as well as what we must cultivate, if we would truly and fully love our neighbour as ourselves.

I. THE KINDNESS OF THE SAMARITAN WAS OF THE SPIRIT, AND NOT MERELY OF THE LETTER. With him love meant the doing of everything within his power, for all who required his help; and, therefore, without asking any questions or making any excuses, he gave the poor man all the assistance he could. If we do that only which is formally prescribed, and if, where the law leaves a blank to be filled up by circumstances, we act as if there was no law at all, then we have yet to learn what true benevolence is; nay, more, we have yet to learn what kind of a book the New Testament is: for it is not a list of distinct precepts, each of which is applicable to only one case; but it is a book of living principles of universal application, and he who really understands them, and has a heart to feel their obligation, will be at no loss to find occasion for their manifestation.

II. THE SAMARITAN'S BENEVOLENCE WAS NOT HINDERED BY ANY PREJUDICES OF NATIONALITY OR RELIGION.

III. THE SAMARITAN'S BENEVOLENCE WAS NOT HINDERED BY ANY CONSIDERATIONS OF PERSONAL CONVENIENCE. What genuine neighbour-love does, it will do thoroughly. Love is ready to sacrifice up to the extent of the necessity which it seeks to meet.

IV. THIS MAN'S BENEVOLENCE-TOOK ITS FORM FROM THE NATURE OF THE MISERY WHICH HE SOUGHT TO RELIEVE. He did the very things which the sufferer needed to have done for him, and he did these at once. He might, indeed, have put himself about in many other ways, under the idea that he was helping the unfortunate traveller; but nothing could have met the case save the method which he adopted. He had no stereotyped mode of showing mercy, which he sought invariably to follow; but he did in each case just what each required. Now, this is very important, because, for lack of attention to it, many people's benevolence, though it may be very well meant, is a total failure.

V. IF OUR BENEVOLENCE WOULD BE OF THE HIGHEST ORDER, WE MUST EXERCISE IT OUT OF REGARD TO HIM WHO DIED TO SHOW MERCY TO OURSELVES. Thus our humanity will rise into Christianity, and our benevolence will be baptized into the name of the Lord Jesus. I conclude with the story of an incident in the life of my grandfather, which I have often heard from my father's lips. It was more than a hundred years ago, when wheeled conveyances were rarely used in the rural districts of Scotland, and the custom was to convey grain to the mill in a sack laid over a horse's back. The good man was making such a journey once, over a rough bridle-path; and the horse stumbled, so that the sack fell off. As he was perplexed, and wondering what to do, he saw a man on horseback in the distance, and had lust made up his mind to ask him for assistance, when he recognized in him the nobleman who lived in an adjoining castle; and then his heart sank again within him, for how could he request him to help him? But he did not need to ask him, for he was noble by a higher patent than any monarch could confer; and, when he came up, he dismounted of his own accord, saying, "Let me help you, John." So between them they put the load again upon the horse; and then John, who was a gentleman too, though he did wear "hodden grey," taking off his broad Kilmarnock bonnet, made obeisance, and said, "Please your worship, how shall I ever thank you for your kindness?" "Very easily, John," was the reply. "Whenever you see another man as sorely needing assistance as you were just now, help him; and that will be thanking me." So, as we contemplate the sacrifice of Christ on our behalf, we cry, "What shall I render unto Thee, O Lord, for all Thy benefits toward me?" — and there comes this answer: "Whensoever thou seest a fellow-man needing thy succour as much as thou wast needing Mine when I gave My life for thee, help him, and that will be thanking Me." "Inasmuch as ye do it," etc.(W. M. Taylor, D. D.)

Take the scene of this parable as the wayside of life. The road through this world is a dangerous way, leading through the wilderness, stained by many crimes, haunted by many robbers. Travelling along this highway of life, I see crowds of persons, of all sorts and conditions of men. And I see, moreover, that all of them bear scars upon them, as though they had been wounded, and many I see are lying by the wayside in sore distress. All have at some time or other fallen among thieves. There is a famous picture by the great French painter which illustrates this. It represents a number of different people journeying through the valley of this world. The way is rough and gloomy, and all bear signs of having known weariness and sorrow. The king is there in his royal robes, and wearing his crown; but his brow is furrowed with care, and he seems to ask, like our own King Henry —

"Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade

To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep,

Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy

To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery?"

The poet is there crowned with laurel, but his eyes are sad, as though he felt how poor a thing is fame; how valueless the garland which to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven. He looks with a yearning glance, as though searching for something not yet found. There, too, is the minister of state, who directed the fortunes of empires. " Whom he would he slew, and whom he would he kept alive." But his head is bowed with trouble, and he seems to look wistfully to the time when "the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest." Among the crowd there are women; the widow with veiled head, and tearful eyes; the mother clasping her dead child; the poor slave, cowering beneath the lash of the taskmaster, and stretching out her chained hands for pity. There, too, are many sick folk. Blind men sit in darkness by the wayside; cripples drag their maimed bodies wearily along; beggars grovel in their sores and raggedness. And all these different people seem to turn their faces longingly to one place, where a bright light breaks over the dark valley, and where there stands One with outstretched arms, and loving smile. It is Jesus, the Good Samaritan, who is ready to help these travellers on the road of life; it is the Good Physician, who has medicine to heal their sickness; and who says to every suffering heart, king and beggar, desolate widow, weary warrior, childless mother, "Come unto Me, all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest."

(H. J. Wilmot-Buxton, M. A.)

I. THE LAWYER

1. He had thus much to recommend him, that he was an orthodox Israelite.

2. He seems to have been a sincere inquirer after truth.

3. Another thing we notice in this lawyer is the accuracy and truthfulness of his knowledge and views of the law.

4. But there was one great deficiency in his case. Theoretical orthodoxy is not always accompanied with practical righteousness. A man may confess a good creed, and yet lead a very unworthy and sinful life. People may know and approve the law, and yet not keep it. He had "answered right." But he was not righteous.

II. THE SAMARITAN.

1. A heretic as to his faith. He was an errorist, and in this respect compares very unfavourably with the Jewish lawyer. It was not his Samaritanism that the Saviour wishes to recommend to us. His churchliness was thoroughly defective and reprehensible.

2. But there is one thing in him that is good, and this it is that the Saviour wishes to recommend to us. He had human sympathy. His mercy was not restrained by sectional antipathy and religious animosities. Conclusion: It was the Samaritan's mercy that needed to be added to the lawyer's orthodoxy, in order to a full and acceptable piety. Orthodoxy without humanity is worthless; humanity with heterodoxy is better as regards the comfort of this world; but orthodoxy with humanity — a pure worship with universal charity — fills out the complete picture of what the law requires, and what practical Christianity really is.

(J. A. Seiss, D. D.)

I. ITS SPHERE OF ACTION.

1. On whom it is exercised. On those who stand in need of it.

2. How far it reaches. To all.

II. ITS NATURE. It is —

1. A feeling.

2. Manifests itself in deeds.

III. ITS WORKING.

1. It gives help instantly and without delay.

2. Voluntarily.

3. Does what is required, and as well as it can.

4. Is full of self-denial, for

(1)It fears no dangers;

(2)no troubles;

(3)no cost;

(4)no labour.

5. It is indefatigable, and completes the work.

(F. G. Lisco.)

1. Willingly begun.

2. Unweariedly continued.

3. Never completed.

(Van Oostarzee.)

1. Measureless.

2. Undeniable.

3. Blessed.

(Van Oostarzee)

1. Whom it profits.

2. How it manifests itself.

3. Whence it come.

(Harless.)

1. It inquires not.

2. It hesitates not.

3. It is not afraid.

4. It tarries not.

5. It willingly sacrifices, and leaves nothing unfinished.

(Florey.)

It is love that makes man neighbour to man. The true neighbour is the man who has a compassionate heart and a friendly spirit. Where this is wanting, it avails not that a man lives next door, or belongs to the same congregation, or is a member of the same club or union or profession; it ought to be so, that these external associations quicken our friendliness, and so they often do, and where love exists they find expression for it in many suitable ways; but these external bends can never supply the place of love. No doubt the people who saw how careful the Samaritan was of his protege would say, He must be his brother, or his neighbour, or an old friend; for the truth is that genuine compassion and affection make a man brother, neighbour, a friend, of all. It is not, then, by any marks in others that you can test who is your neighbour; but only by what is in yourself, viz., humanity of disposition, friendliness, compassion, or whatever name you choose to give it. Love alone can determine who is your neighbour.

(Marcus Dods, D. D.)

I. Earliest of all, there is indicated here that THE RECOGNIZED AIM OF THE ENTIRE GOSPEL IS SIMPLY TO SAVE HUMAN SOULS (see verse 25).

II. From the reply our Lord gave to him we learn, next, that THE GRAND SOURCE OF ALL INFORMATION ON THIS SUBJECT IS GOD'S WORD, REVEALED IN THE INSPIRED SCRIPTURES (see verses 26-28).

III. Hence, we reach another lesson: THE MAIN OFFICE OF THE LAW OF GOD THUS REVEALED IS TO CONVINCE MEN OF SIN (see verse 29). Evidently this man was not at all satisfied. There was just one subtle implication in this courteous commendation of Jesus that stung his conscience. He knew he had never obeyed the command he had quoted.

IV. Our Lord follows his extraordinary lead, and so we have another lesson: THE LAW OF GOD ACCEPTS EVEN HUMANITARIANISM AS ONE OF THE TRUTHFUL TESTS OF A REAL RELIGIOUS CHARACTER.

1. In the beginning of the parable, Jesus shows what constitutes a neighbour, meeting the lawyer's interrogatory in its exact terms: "And who is my neighbour?" (see verse 30).

2. A neighbour, so the story went calmly on to say, is one who is close to us in circumstances of common exposure. All these people were in the perilous and infested road between Jerusalem and Jericho.

3. A neighbour is one who has received misfortune which might happen to any one of us in the same circumstances. Robbers are never specially particular concerning what respectable people they plunder.

4. A neighbour is one who is left near us helpless, and must suffer more unless succoured at once. The force of the figure turns on that. Thus, having explained what it was to be a neighbour, Jesus proceeded to show further by the parable what it must mean to love one's neighbour as one's self (see verses 31-35).(1) A priest (see verse 31). Perhaps he was one of these refined, fastidious men, full of soft sensibility, and could not force his delicate feelings to bear the sight of abject suffering, especially when no one was near to sustain and praise him. Possibly he could pity the wounded neighbour, but could not afford just then either the time or the twopence. It may be, housed in his comfortable quarters that night in Jericho, he took it out in blaming the Government for the tolerance.(2) A Levite (see verse 32). No better than the other: no reason to suppose he would be: a Levite was just a little priest: "like master, like man." Still. it is fair to say he went across to see what was the matter. Perhaps he found there was too much the matter. Perhaps prudence suggested the robbers might return. Now please remember these were the friends this lawyer would have stood up for; a sacred calling certainly involves sacred duties.(3) A Samaritan (see verses 33-35). He had love in his heart and succour in his hands.

V. So ends the parable; and now, as we return to the story for our final lesson, we learn that MERE FORMAL DEVOTION CANNOT EVEN ABIDE ITS OWN TEST, WHEN FORCED TO IT (see verses 36, 37).

(C. S. Robinson, D. D.)

I. THE WORLD IS VERY FULL OF AFFLICTION,

1. Frequently the greater afflictions are not occasioned by the fault of the sufferer.

2. Very much distress is caused by the wickedness of others.

3. Certain paths in life are peculiarly subject to affliction. Our mines, railways, and seas show a terrible roll of suffering and death. Many a needlewoman's life is truly a path of blood.

II. THERE ARE MANY WHO NEVER RELIEVE AFFLICTION.

1. The two men here mentioned were brought to the spot by God's providence on purpose to render aid to the sufferer.

2. They were both of them persons who ought to have relieved him, because they were very familiar with things which should have softened their hearts.

3. They were, moreover, bound by their profession to have helped this man.

4. They were very well aware of the man's condition.

5. Yet they had capital excuses.

III. THE SAMARITAN IS A MODEL FOR THOSE WHO DO HELP THE AFFLICTED.

1. He is a model if we notice who the person was that he helped.

(1)One who could not repay him.

(2)A total stranger.

(3)One rejected by his own people.

(4)One of a different faith from himself.

2. He is a model to us in the spirit in which he did his work.

(1)Without asking questions.

(2)Without attempting to shift the labour from himself on to others.

(3)Without any selfish fear.

(4)With self-denial.

(5)With great tenderness and care.

IV. WE HAVE A HIGHER MODEL than even the Samaritan — our Lord Jesus Christ.

1. Our Lord Jesus Christ has done better than the good Samaritan, because our case was worse. We were not only half but altogether dead in trespasses and sins.

2. What the Samaritan gave to the poor man was generous, but it is not comparable to what the Lord Jesus has given to us. He gave him wine and oil; but Jesus has given His heart's-blood to heal our wounds: he lent himself with all his care and thoughtfulness; but Christ gave Himself even to the death for us.

(C. H. Spurgeon.)

I. THE OCCASION OF THE PARABLE.

1. The general circumstances (vers. 25-28)

2. The specific question (ver. 29).

II. THE APTNESS OF THE PARABLE.

1. This parable shows the Divine idea of true neighbourliness.

2. This parable shows the grand principle and obligation of Christian endeavour at home and abroad.

3. This parable shows the secret of true happiness.

(1)The robbers who stripped and wounded their victim did not become happy in their deed.

(2)Neither priest nor Levite was happy in his cowardly selfishness.

(3)It was the good, benevolent, tender-hearted Samaritan whose soul was filled with a happifying satisfaction.Practical lessons:

1. Selfishness is not "the Divine ideal of a true and noble life.

2. Happiness is not an emotion, but the fruit of love.

3. The true good Samaritan is Jesus Christ Himself.

(D. C. Hughes, M. A.)

I. THE CIRCUMSTANCES WHICH LED TO THE UTTERANCE OF THIS PARABLE.

1. A sinister question put to our Lord by a lawyer.

2. Our Lord's method of meeting cavillers (see ver. 26).

3. The lawyer's remarkable answer to our Lord's question.

4. Our Lord's candour.

5. The caviller unimpressed by his own profound answer, and still under the dominant power of self.

II. THE PARABLE.

1. The topography of the scene is noticeable.

2. The touching story of the parable.

(1)The pitiable victim of the thieves.

(2)The pitiless passers-by.

(3)The pitiful Samaritan.

III. THE APPLICATION.

1. Jesus enabled the lawyer to answer his own perplexing question. This is a great gift.

2. Jesus brought home the truth to the lawyer's conscience, so that he could not shake it off.Lessons:

1. Let us learn not to despise the questionings of men, but seek to turn them to practical account.

2. Let us learn that the crown of all human excellencies, the unquestionable evidence of true piety, and the golden girdle which is yet to bind in one holy Christly brotherhood the human race, is to love God with all our heart, mind, and strength, and our neighbours as ourselves.

3. Let us learn the utter hollowness of formal religion.

4. Let us learn that an immortality of honour is only for those whose heart throbs with Christly sympathy.

5. Let us learn that our Lord has hers drawn for us His own portrait in the delineation He has given us of the "good Samaritan."

(D. C. Hughes, M. A.)

I. A GRAPHIC PICTURE OF HUMAN NEED AND MISERY.

1. Much of man's suffering is inflicted by his fellow-man.

2. His condition, apart from aid, human and Divine, appears helpless and hopeless.

II. A SAD ILLUSTRATION OF MAN'S TOO COMMON INDIFFERENCE TO HIS FELLOW-MAN.

III. AN INSTRUCTIVE EXAMPLE OF TRUE CHARITY. Note the several movements of benevolence, as exemplified in the story.

1. An observant eye.

2. A sensitive heart, that will not steel itself against a neighbour's misfortunes, saying, "All is owing to the operation of general laws, and it is unreasonable to allow one's self to be affected by the inevitable afflictions of mankind."

3. An absence of bigotry.

4. A ready hand, to carry out the benevolent desires of the heart.

5. Self-forget-fulness and self-denial, leading to a disregard of personal comfort and even of personal safety.

6. A combination of tenderness and wisdom.

7. An endeavour to interest others in the work in which we are engaged ourselves. As this Samaritan procured the services of the host, so many good people multiply their own beneficence by calling forth that of others.

8. Liberality. There are occasions for gifts as well as for services; it is well to be found responsive to such claims.

9. Foresight. A wise man will look forward, and consider how that which is begun may best be carried on.

IV. A SUGGESTION OF THE DIVINE MOTIVE TO BENEVOLENCE. It is vain to disconnect morality from religion. Our relation to God governs out relation to our fellow-creatures.

V. AN ILLUSTRATION OF REDEMPTION.

(J. R. Thomson, M. A.)

The road connecting Jerusalem with Jericho ran through a wild, dreary, and mountainous solitude, suited by the gloomy and inaccessible fastnesses on either side of it, to harbour thieves, robbers, and other outlaws from society, and so particularly infamous in the time of our Lord for the horrid depredations and murders perpetrated by the ruffians that infested it, that it went under the name of "The Bloody Way." Herod the Great had dismissed about 40,000 men who had been engaged in building the Temple, many of whom, through want of employment, as Josephus informs us, became robbers and haunted the road to which this parable refers.

"Among thieves!" Come with me to the dead-house. There lies a lifeless form just brought in by rough yet kind-hearted men from the river. It is the body of a woman. Push back the masses of dishevelled hair, and you look into a young and beautiful face, and wonder whose child she is. Last night when the city was quiet, and those who had homes had sought them, and the poor street Arab had coiled himself into an empty cask, this child of sorrow noiselessly stole on to the bridge, climbed the parapet, gave one long, low wail of despair, then madly leaped into the river. There was a splash, a struggle, and then the dark waters rolled on as before, and as they have done over hundreds of such frail children of men as this one who lies before us in the dead-house. What does it mean? It means that she has fallen among thieves, who have robbed her and left her to die. "Among thieves!" Yonder stands a gloomy building, with high walls and gates, as heavy and massive as those of the old castles of the Middle Ages. Get inside. See that youth. Who is he? Where does he come from? His father is a godly man, his mother is a holy woman. Once he was the joy of the home. Now see his convict's dress, look at his sad, worn face, and you shudder as the lock clicks upon the door of his cell. What does it mean? It means that he "fell among thieves."

(C. Leach.)

This parable reveals in the brightest light —

I. THE CHRISTIAN'S HEART. It is like the Samaritan's as he stands over yon panting, bleeding man: it is full of compassion. This word "compassion," as used by Christ, has the greatest force and feeling in it. It means that His whole body tingled, and thrilled, and was warmed with loving pity, as your body was when you stood over against your dying brother or sister, and felt as you had never felt before. Very great must have been the Samaritan's compassion when, without a moment's delay, he stooped to the bleeding man. We are weak and slow in Christ's work because we are weak in compassion. A boy was showing me his model steam-engine, in which the steam was made by a spirit-lamp. He lighted his lamp, but the engine moved not till a certain temperature was reached. Compassion is the moving force in us, but it does not move us till it grows hot within the heart. The Samaritan also reveals —

II. THE CHRISTIAN'S HAND. It is the ready agent of a compassionate heart. First the heart, then the hand; that is the order in the kingdom. Watch the Samaritan's hand. It is not the hand of a sluggard. How quickly it moves! The story gives us the idea of hearty haste. He did not linger till compassion was chilled by worldly prudence. He knew that his first thoughts were best. I dare say he did not think about it at all: he just did it at once. A new book tells that a Glasgow merchant died lately without a will, leaving a widow, one son, and two daughters. The son in London received a telegram, came down the same evening, and settled his father's fortune on his mother and sisters. He was asked why he had been in such a hurry. "I dared not wait," was his noble reply. "Had I waited, my resolution might have cooled, and I might have claimed all the law allowed me. I felt that it was right to do what I have done, and I wished to commit myself before selfishness could come in." Many a noble purpose dies of cold and delay in its infancy.

2. It is not the hand of a weakling. See it binding up wounds, pouring m oil and wine, setting the traveller on his beast, bringing him to the inn, tending him all through the night, taking out the purse and giving to the host. The hand moved by love is not easily tired, is not flighty but steady, and carries through what it begins.

3. It is not the hand of a hireling, who works only for pay. The Samaritan was not rich: he travelled with one ass and without a servant. Besides the wine, and oil, and bandages, and two pence to the host, he lost a whole day's work, and probably a whole night's rest. He had reward enough in an approving conscience reflecting the smile of God, in the home-bred sweets of a benevolent mind, and in the thought that he was imitating his Father in heaven.

4. It is not the hand of earthly ambition. The Pharisees gave alms to be seen of men. Had the Samaritan been like them, he also would have passed by on the other side.

III. THE CHRISTIAN'S SPHERE. The lawyer made it very narrow. He loved his friends and hated his enemies, and was sure that these Samaritans were no neighbours of his. But Christ teaches that there are no limits or exceptions to the love of man.

(J. Wells, M. A.)

I. THAT God has established a principle of universal dependence through every part of His intelligent creation. As creatures we have a twofold dependence — a dependence upon God, and upon our fellows.

II. THAT among men, and especially among fallen and guilty men, the principle of benevolence, which expresses itself in a readiness to administer to the necessities of others, is not only a mere arrangement of wisdom and goodness, but has in it the force of duty and obligation.

III. The benevolence enjoined in the parable before us derives great force from the terms in which it is expressed. "Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself" is the language of the law. "Who is my neighbour?" asks the lawyer. The answer is, "Every man in distress is thy neighbour."

IV. THAT they are unhappily often counteracted in practice. The introduction of sin has subjected us to misery, and rendered us more dependent open each other; but it has also introduced principles into the heart which are subversive of those charities to which our very necessities and common dangers ought to give birth. Like mariners in a storm, like soldiers in a battle, we ought to be at hand to each other; but there are principles which too frequently separate man from man, and harden the heart against every emotion of pity. We might specify many of these, but we will confine our attention to one, suggested by the parable; I mean religious bigotry.

V. LASTLY, let me observe, that the universal and undistinguishing philanthrophy, so affectingly urged in the parable of our Lord before us, must be fostered and matured by every consideration we can pay to the nature of our religion.

(R. Watson.)

There are some who utterly proscribe the name of chance as a word of impious and profane signification; and indeed, if it be taken by us in that sense in which it was used by the heathen, so as to make anything casual, in respect of God Himself, their exception ought justly to be admitted. But to say a thing is a chance, or casualty, as it relates to second causes, is not profaneness, but a great truth, as signifying no more than that there are some events, besides the knowledge, purpose, expectation, and power of second agents. And for this very reason, because they are so, it is the royal prerogative of God Himself, to have all these loose, uneven, fickle uncertainties under His disposal.

(Dr. South.)

Which of us has not been guilty of passing by on the other side, of leaving misery unrelieved because it was not clamorous? This unfortunate, lying half dead by the roadside, could make no importunate supplications for relief, could not sit up and prove to the priest that it was his duty to help him, could not even ask help, so as to lay on the priest the responsibility of positive refusal; and so he got past with less discomfort, but not with less guilt. The need is often greatest where least is asked. And how many forms of misery are there lying within our knowledge as we journey along the bloodstained road of life, but which we pass by because they do not bar our progress till we give our help, or because it is possible for us to put them out of our mind and live as though these things were not. A lost child is crying on the streets, but it is awkward to be seen leading a dirty, crying child home, so we refuse to notice that the child is lost; a man is lying as if he were ill, but he may only be intoxicated, and it looks foolish to meddle, and may be troublesome, so we leave him to others, though another minute in that position may, for all we know, make the difference between life and death. You read a paragraph of a paper giving a thrilling account of a famine in China, or some other great calamity; but when you come to a clause intimating that subscriptions will be received at such and such a place, you pass to another column, and refuse to allow that to make the impression on your mind which you feel it is beginning to make. In short, you will, in these and many like circumstances, wait till you are asked to help; you know you could not in decency refuse if you were asked, if the matter were fully laid before you and all the circumstances detailed, but you will put yourself out of reach before this can be done, you will not expose yourself to the risk of having your charitable feelings stirred, or at any rate of having your help drawn upon; you will, if possible, wipe the thing from your mind, you will carefully avoid following up any clues or considering steadily any hint or suggestion of suffering.

(Marcus Dods, D. D.)

I. The first and chief plea, under which men generally take shelter, is that of inability, because of straitened circumstances, heavy taxes, &c. Before this plea can be accepted, we must ask ourselves whether there be no unnecessary expenses that we support, such as are unsuitable to our circumstances.

II. There are those that plead unsettled times, and an ill prospect of affairs (whether wrongly or rightly, is not the case; but there are those that plead these things) as impediments to the exercise of charity. For in such an uncertain world, who knows but that he may want to-morrow what he gives to-day?

III. There are men sensible enough of their obligations to charity, and resolved, some time or other, to discharge them; but they desire to be excused from that duty for the present, and put it off, perhaps, to a will and a deathbed, and think it sufficient if they begin to do good in the world any time before they leave it. Seldom do either of these proceed from a principle of goodness; nor are they owing to a love of virtue, but to a fear of punishment.

IV. It is alleged that the increase of charity tends often to the increasing and multiplying the poor; and by that means proves a mischief to the commonwealth, instead of a support and benefit.

V. And last thing (I shall mention) by which we are apt to excuse our backwardness to good works, is, the ill success that hath been observed to attend well-designed charities; with relation both to the objects on which they are placed, and the hands through which they are conveyed. Our part is, to choose out the most deserving objects, and the most likely to answer the ends of our charity; and when that is done, all is done that lies in our power; the rest must be left to Providence.

(Bishop Horne.)

A certain Samaritan.
The good Samaritan is a masterly picture of true benevolence.

I. The sinner is WITHOUT MORAL QUALIFICATION FOR SALVATION, but Christ comes where he is.

1. Remember first, that when the gospel was first sent into the world, those to whom it was sent were manifestly without any moral qualification.

2. Recollect again, the Biblical descriptions of those whom Christ came into the world to save, which prove to a demonstration that He comes to the sinner where he is.

3. But, thirdly, it is quite certain from the work of grace itself, that the Lord does not expect the sinner to do anything or to be anything in order to meet Him, but that He comes to him where he is.

4. The godlike character of the grace of God proves that He meets the sinner where he is. If God forgive little sinners only, then He is little in His mercy.

5. The spirit and genius of the gospel utterly forbid the supposition that God requires anything in any man in order to save him.

II. In the second place, there are very many of the lost race of Adam, who say that they are WITHOUT ANY MENTAL QUALIFICATION.

III. But yet again, I think I hear another say, "I am in despair, for I CANNOT FIND ANY REASON IN MYSELF, OR OUT OF MYSELF, WHY GOD SHOULD FORGIVE SUCH A PERSON AS I AM." SO then, you are in a hopeless state, at least you see no hope. The Lord meets you where you are by putting the reason of your salvation altogether in Himself.

IV. We proceed to our fourth point. "Oh," says one, "but I am WITHOUT COURAGE; I dare not believe on Christ, I am such a timid, trembling soul, that when I hear that others trust to Christ I think it must be presumption; I wish I could do the same, but I cannot; I am kept under by such a sense of sin, that I dare not."

V. I hear one more complaint. "I am WITHOUT STRENGTH," saith one; "will Jesus come just where I am?" Yes, sinner, just where you are. You say you cannot believe; that is your difficulty. God meets you, then, in your inability. First, He meets you with His promises. "Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise Cast out." Cannot you believe now?

(C. H. Spurgeon.)

The first object that arrests our attention is a man lying by the wayside robbed, stripped, wounded, half dead. Now, all that we know about this man was that he had been taking a journey from Jerusalem to Jericho; and even this is full of suggestion. He had his back turned upon the "city of the vision of peace" and his face turned towards the city of the curse. Cursed was Jericho — cursed in the moment of its first destruction, and cursed in the moment of its restoration. He was turning his back upon the place which had been built for God's glory, for the especial abode, so to speak, of the Divine presence, and his face towards the place which had been built in distinct defiance of the Divine will, the very existence of which was a monument of human rebellion. Such is the ill-omened character of the journey which the traveller has undertaken. Is it not just such a journey that man has undertaken? If we look at human history, what is it but a continuous going down from Jerusalem to Jericho? Dear friends, as it has been with human history in the abstract, so has it been with each of us individually. As we look upon our own history, what has it been? One continual going away farther and farther from God, wandering from "the city of peace," and voluntarily exiling ourselves into the region which is blighted with God's curse. First, there is "the robbing." Satan is the great master robber. How much has he robbed us of? First, he has robbed us of all the blessedness of Paradise. Further, this man was not only robbed, he was also "stripped." They were not content with taking his money, they must needs take his garments. That is just what Satan has done with us. He has stripped us of all with which we cover our shame. There are some of us who have endeavoured to put on a garb of respectability, and to cover ourselves with that, just as our first parents sewed fig-leaves together to cover themselves. And that is not all. He is not content with robbing and stripping you; he goes even further; with ruthless hands he "wounds" those whom he has already robbed. How many of us are there here who do not know what it is to be wounded, inwardly wounded? Ah! he knows how to wound. Wounded! How are you "wounded?" not only by the malice of Satan, but by the accusations of conscience. How are you "wounded?" Not only wounded by Satan, not only wounded by conscience, but also wounded by your truest and best Friend. For there is One who wounds that He may heal. "Faithful are the wounds of a friend!" But that was not all. The man was not only wounded, but he was "left half dead." In what sense is the sinner half dead? So far as his spiritual condition is concerned he is quite dead, but so far as his moral nature is concerned he is half dead; that is to say, he is rapidly losing all his moral powers, but he is not altogether lost. The man is not only half dead; he is fast dying; his life is ebbing out in that flowing blood. Every moment that he lies there he grows weaker. Now let us look at it again. The first that passes that way is the priest. The priest cannot do anything for him, or does not do anything for him. And, dear friends, all the ordinances in the world, however precious and however valuable they are in themselves, will not restore lost vitality. The Levite passes by — he can do nothing. "If there had been a law given which could have given life, verily righteousness should have been by the law." This is just where the law fails. But the next to come along that road is one of a different race. He was the very last man that this poor dying Jew had a claim upon. "He was a Samaritan." And Jesus passes by, not on the wings of His sovereign power, not in the majesty of His eternal sway, but He passes by in human form, a traveller amongst the sons of men. He passes by along life's dreary, dusty journey; He threads the mazes of life's wilderness, and on His way He "hears the groanings of such as are in captivity, and the sorrowful sighing of those who are appointed to die."

(W. H. M. H. Aitken, M. A.)

"He had compassion on him." Premising that, we can rest assured there is more to follow. He began with pity, and all the rest is a mere matter of detail. In the light of this one luminous word "compassion," the poor man is seen already right away home, the idol of his happy family, surrounded with bright-eyed, curly-headed, pretty little prattlers, bounding with joy, and his fond wife heaping blessings on the nameless benefactor. "He had compassion on him" — an expression this, big with salvation. He drew out his sympathetic soul first of all, and wrapped that warm around him, and made him understand that smaller gifts and minor mercies would soon be forthcoming. The oil, the wine, the bandages, the beast, the inn, the pence, the care, are all only so many forms of the large-hearted "compassion" with which he started. And the unfortunate individual, who had been callously "passed by" with indifference by cold and formal ecclesiasticism, is now at length happily rescued by the religion of humanity.

(D. Thomas.)

— "He set him on his own beast" — the one act in which the Samaritan's Samaritanism was most deeply lodged, and most gently and suggestively evinced. The Samaritan had nothing left him but to walk. So we conclude. The weariness of it denoted less to him than his co-traveller's comfort denoted. His own comfort was in having his companion comfortable. His consciousness was of the other man. He became practically the other man for the time; felt his bruises as his own bruises; forgot that he was not working for himself in working for him. He felt not for him, which is nothing but pity; but he felt with him, he felt in him, which is sympathy and gospel. Becoming the other man — that is Samaritanism: seeing with his eyes, feeling with his sensibilities, subject to his limitations, obnoxious to his exposures. Sympathy is two hearts tugging at one load, bent beneath one sorrow.

(C. H. Parkhurst, D. D.)

We can help a man only by identifying ourselves with him, getting into his circumstances, getting into him, becoming he If you have a temptation that you want to get the mastery over, the man for you to go to for counsel and relief is the man who has been in your place and gained the victory that you want to gain. The heat man to convert a drunkard is a converted drunkard. The power to appreciate temptation is the prime condition to being able to help others out of temptation. In a certain way it holds that the more bad and awkward situations a good man has been in, the richer may prove his ministry and the more various his apostleship. Almost all the men in the Scripture story that ever proved a great advantage to anybody had at some time been themselves in sad need of succour. The first step God took towards making us become like Him was for Him to become as far as He could like us. If you have any doctrinal perplexity, your resort for assistance will always be to some one whose doctrinal experience has been complicated in the same way. And it is not by any means enough to be able to understand another man's difficulty, burden, temptation; we need to go a little farther and feel it as our own difficulty, burden, temptation, just as the Samaritan not only appreciated his fellow-traveller's distresses, but felt them as his own distresses, and therefore set him on his own beast; and as Christ not only understood our sins, but Himself put Himself behind our sins, underneath them, carried them, and in such a whole-hearted way, as really to suffer the pain and penalty of them. There is always more or less of the vicarious when there is any good done, any release wrought, any redemption effected.

(C. H. Parkhurst, D. D.)

In our journeyings, says the Waikato Times, a newspaper published in New Zealand, we have to record the various traits of man be he European or Maori — all have to be faithfully noticed by our pen. Whether his characteristics are of the animal or intellectual kind, whether his sympathies are with the refined or debased. In this instance it is our great pleasure to have to record one of the most Christian and good Samaritanlike acts that we remember to have read or published. A few nights ago — a bitter cold night it was — Amopui, a native, was returning to Cambridge, and when some distance from the township saw the prostrate form of a man — a European — on the road. It appears that the poor fellow, with one leg only, had travelled overland all the way from Napier, had crossed creeks, surmounted hills, and threaded his way through the bush. But nature gave way at last, and he fell, when Amopui found him, utterly worn out, helpless and exhausted. But for this timely assistance, Charles Parmeters (for this was the European's name)would in all probability never have seen the light of another day. The Maori lifted him up, and carried him into Cambridge, and those who know the heavy, sandy road on the other side of the bridge can judge what the labour must have been. Amopui took him to his tent, and attended to him the night through; but the noble fellow's good deeds did not end here. In the morning he got a subscription list, and by dint of perseverence collected nearly £9, which he handed over to the police authorities to be expended in sending the poor cripple on to Auckland. Amopui is well known in Cambridge as being a straightforward and honest native, and will now more than ever be universally respected. If there be no other recognition in this sphere of this good action, the story should find a corner in every paper and magazine in the world, and should be printed in gold.

The day after the action near Alexandria, where the brave Abercrombie fell, the General was riding over the field of battle, attended by two orderly dragoons, to see if there were any wounded, French or English, who had escaped notice the evening before, when, on turning round a wall by the seaside, he was struck with the appalling sight of more than a hundred French soldiers, who, with their officers, huddled together, desperately wounded by grape and cannon shot from an English brig of war. From being collected in the recess of the wall they had escaped notice on the previous day of search, and were exposed to the night air, and with undressed wounds. Here the General saw a man, evidently English, in the garb of a Quaker, actively employed in the heavenly task of giving his humane assistance to those poor, brave sufferers; giving water to some, dressing the wounds of others, and affording consolation to all. Upon inquiry, he found the benevolent individual to be Dr. John Walker, who was himself almost exhausted, having been thus nobly employed from daybreak without any assistance.

A venerable servant of Christ said to me just at the time that I was accepting my first living, "If you would really wish to be useful to those with whom you are brought into contact, remember there is only one way of doing it: like the blessed Master of old, you must yourself be moved with compassion, or else you never can help them." The man who has been himself much in the society of the good Samaritan will partake of his feelings, and, like his Master, will be "moved with compassion." "But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was: and when be saw him, he had compassion on him." He might naturally have turned aside and said, "Oh, it is only one of those miserable Jews; the fewer we have of them the better; let him be." The first thing he had to overcome was natural prejudice, and it is rather a strong one with some people. But he did not stop to inquire whether he was a Jew or a Samaritan; he was a man — a brother; and the Samaritan acted accordingly. I remember hearing the story of a little incident that occurred in the streets of Edinburgh some years ago. A coach was driving rapidly down the narrow streets of the town. A poor little child of some two years of age crept into the middle of the road, and there it was in utter helplessness standing by itself, while the galloping horses were drawing nearer and nearer every moment. Just as they approached the spot where the poor little helpless infant was standing, a woman, who had just happened to come to the door of her house, darted forth like a flash of lightning, grasped the child in her arms, and, at the peril of her own life, saved it from imminent destruction. A passer-by remarked to the poor terrified woman when she reached the other side, "Well, woman, is that your child?" "Na, ha," she said, "it's nae my bairn." "Well, woman," he said, "what for did you risk your life for a child when it was not yours?" With a beaming eye and a flushed face, the noble woman replied, "Aye, but it's somebody's bairn." That was real humanity! The true spirit of a woman asserted itself within her nature. And if that be humanity, dear friends, what ought to be Christian humanity? What would have become of us if the Lord Jesus Christ had asked the question, "Who is My neighbour?" He might have pointed to where Gabriel, Michael, and the other ministering spirits stand before the throne, and say, "Behold My neighbour." What daring intelligence of heaven or hell would ever have suggested that the Lord Jesus Christ could find His "neighbour" in a fallen world, amid the children of sorrow and the slaves of hell? Who would have ever thought that God would have chosen us to be His "neighbours?" that He should have come where we are, that He should bend over us with a heart glowing with love, and pour into our wounds the sweet solace of His own anointing oil, or breathe into our lifeless being the supernatural energy of His own eternal life — who would so much as have suggested this? Not less than this Divine love has actually effected. Here is a call for each of us, children of God. Go to your own home as "a saviour." Go to the crowded streets, and courts, and lanes of this town as "a saviour."

(W. H. M. H. Aitken, M. A.)

I. That religious profession and service have no necessary connection with real goodness.

II. We see that neighbourship is not cancelled by a difference of religion. But surely no differences of religion can cancel the duties which are anterior to all revealed religion whatsoever. If men do not see as we see, they are still men. And vet who does not know that a diversity of religious faith frequently operates as a check on all natural sympathy, and that poverty has often to starve on because it does not happen to lie within the enclosure of some theological shibboleth?

III. We see from this parable that true neighbourliness involves the spirit of sacrifice.

(E. Mellor, D. D.)

The phrase "by chance" used in the parable describing the coming of the three men upon the wounded traveller is the same in structure with our word "concurrent." The priest, the Levite, and Samaritan were not travelling that road and did not meet the half-dead stranger by hazard, but by the concurrence of events which Providence controlled the three were brought to one who needed help. Such is the claim of Christian charity, the combination of events which brings us into proximity to suffering involves the obligation of ministering to it. This claim has its binding force from two principles —

I. Power or advantage of any kind is not a personal possession, but a trust. "I am a debtor both to the Greeks and to the barbarians; both to the wise and to the unwise," wrote Paul. He owed the Greeks nothing. They had persecuted him. The barbarians he had never seen. But Paul was conscious that God had conferred upon him great gifts and experiences. Because he had them he was bound to make others partake of them. Every such man had a claim upon Paul. His ignorance and wickedness gave the claim. That is the claim that the heathen and the newly-settled portions of our land have upon us. "Communism," as one has said, "is only the refracted image of a supreme truth, the truth of the indebtedness of the strong to the weak, as that however is dimly discerned by intoxicated brains, through bloodshot eyes." The half-dead man had a claim upon priest and Levite and Samaritan. Priest and Levite were faithless to the trust God's providence brought them opportunity to administer.

II. Love to men also makes the claim of the weak upon the stronger of binding force. This love comes into our hearts when we are awakened to the truth of the brotherhood of man, and realize God's love toward us. In antiquity there was nothing beyond national ties to bind man to man.

(G. E. Horr.)

A Chinese Christian thus described the relative merits of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Christianity: — "A man had fallen into a deep, dark pit, and lay in its miry bottom groaning and utterly unable to move. Confucius walked by, approached the edge of the pit, and said, 'Poor fellow, I am sorry for you; why were you such a fool as to get in there? Let me give yon a piece of advice: if you ever get out, don't get in again.' 'I can't get out,' groaned the man. That is Confucianism. A Buddhist priest next came by, and said, ' Poor fellow, I am very much pained to see you there. I think if you could scramble up two-thirds of the way, or even half, I could reach you and lift you up the rest.' But the man in the pit was entirely helpless and unable to rise. That is Buddhism. Next the Saviour came by, and, hearing his cries, went to the very brink of the pit, stretched down and laid hold of the poor man, brought him up, and said, 'Go, sin no more.' That is Christianity."

Oberlin was travelling on one occasion from Strasbourg. It was in winter. The ground was deeply covered with snow, and the roads were almost impassable. He had reached the middle of his journey, and was so exhausted that he could stand up no longer. He commended himself to God, and yielded to what he felt to be the sleep of death. He knew not how long he slept, but suddenly became conscious of some one rousing him up. Before him stood a waggon-driver, the waggon not far away. He gave him a little wine and food, and the spirit of life returned. He then helped him on the waggon, and brought him to the next village. The rescued man was profuse in his thanks, and offered money, which his benefactor refused. "It is only a duty to help one another," said the waggoner; "and it is the next thing to an insult to offer a reward for such a service." "Then," replied Oberlin, "at least tell me your name, that I may have you in thankful remembrance before God." "I see," said the waggoner, " that you are a minister of the gospel. Please tell me the name of the good Samaritan." "That," said Oberlin, "I cannot do, for it was not put on record." "Then," replied the waggoner, "until you can tell me his name, permit me to withhold mine."

A fire having broken out in a village of Denmark, one of the inhabitants, a poor man, was very active in affording assistance; but every endeavour to extinguish the flames was in vain. At length he was told that his own house was in danger, and that if he wished to save his furniture, not a moment was to be lost. "There is something more precious," replied he, "that I must first save. My poor sick neighbour is not able to help himself: he will be lost if I do not assist him. I am sure he relies upon me." He flew to his neighbour's house, rushed, at the hazard of his life, through the flames, and conveyed the sick man in his arms to a place of safety. A society at Copenhagen showed their approbation of his conduct by presenting him with a silver cup filled with Danish crowns.

This parable is very strong as a dramatic representation. It touches the common sense of all races. It is just as plain to the ignorant as it is to the learned. The good Samaritan stands admired by all sects and races, and occasionally is imitated. There is to be drawn, however, something further from this narrative. A fine philosophical distinction lies hidden here, quite aside from its general drift. The breaking down of all limitations to kindly feelings is the main drift; and in executing that something else was accomplished. When the Samaritan rescued the sufferer, that was GENEROSITY. He acted upon the impulse of his heart. Generosity springs out of the heart; it is the child of emotion. It acts in an inferior sphere. It acts quickly. But how easily might one, after relieving this man who had suffered from the thieves, have left him for other folks' kindness, saying, "I have done my part." When, having rescued him, he began to think for the unseen wants of the days to come, and provided for them, that was LIBERALITY. It was not generous. It was not acting from the senses and sight. It was acting from reflection, from a higher moral quality of equity.

(H. W. Beecher.)

From this story there are many lessons to be learnt.

1. It shows how easy it is for us men of the sanctuary to be far less tender-hearted than the laymen who pass their lives amid matters which have nothing absolutely to do with God.

2. It shows how easily the religious conscience can reason itself out of the responsibilities resting upon it for the discharge of the everyday duties of life.

3. It has also a lesson in the practical character of general philanthropy, for behind the persons of the narrative it shadows out the character of the Divine Person taking compassion on suffering humanity, and placing the wounded man in the true home of souls to the end of time.

(Canon Liddon.)

No words, perhaps, ever spoken on earth have had more effect than those of this parable. What was the power and the spirit of this parable? What gave it its strength in the hearts of men? This — that it told them that they were to help their fellowmen simply because they were their fellow-men. .Not because they were of the same race, the same religion, the same sect or party, but simply because they were men. In a word, it commanded men to be humane, to exercise humanity, which signifies kindness to human beings simply because they are human beings. One can understand our Lord preaching that; it was part and parcel of His doctrine. He called Himself the Son of Man. He showed what He meant by calling Himself so by the widest and most tender humanity. But His was quite a new doctrine, and a new practice likewise. The Jews had no notion of humanity. All but themselves were common and unclean. The Greek, again, despised all nations but his own as barbarians. The Romans, again, were a thoroughly inhuman people. Their calling, they held, was to conquer all the nations of the earth, to plunder them, to enslave them. They were the great slave-holding, man-stealing people. Mercy was a virtue which they had utterly forgotten. Their public shows and games were mere butcheries of blood and torture. To see them fight to death in their theatres, pairs after pairs, sometimes thousands in one day, was the usual and regular amusement. And in that great city of Rome, which held something more than a million human beings, there was not, as far as I am aware, one single hospital or other charitable institution of any kind. There was, in a word, no humanity in them. But the gospel changed all that miraculously and suddenly, both in Jew, in Greek, and in Roman. While men had been heathens, their pattern had been that of the priest, who saw the wounded man lying, and looked on him, and passed by. Their pattern now was that of the good Samaritan, who helped and saved the wounded stranger simply because he was a man. In one word, the new thing which the gospel brought into the world was humanity. The thing which the gospel keeps in the world still is humanity.

(Charles Kingsley.)

I. A certain man fell among thieves. HERE IS THE BLACK MARGIN WHICH SURROUNDS CIVILIZED SOCIETY.

II. There came a priest that way, as also a Levite and a Samaritan. So, THE ESCAPE OF SOME IS NOT TO BE TAKEN AS A CONDEMNATION OF OTHERS. All the four went down the same road, yet only one of them was unfortunate! What a temptation for the three who escaped to say, It must have been his own blame; we passed down the very same road, and did not hear so much as the fluttering of a leaf.

III. The priest passed by on the other side; so did the Levite — THE THING WHICH IS ALWAYS BEING DONE BY A NEGATIVE AND DO NOTHING. RESPECTABILITY. There are two sides in life.

1. The side on which men are dying; and —

2. "The other side." We can choose our side. On the first side we shall find —

1. Something to shock our sensibilities.

2. Something to interrupt our speed.

3. Something to tax our resources. On the opposite side we shall find a clear path to infamy and the hell of eternal remorse.

IV. The priest passed by, and so did the Levite — so SACRED NAMES ARE NO GUARANTEE FOR SACRED SERVICES. It is a terrible thing for the nature to fall below the name. A name is a promise. A profession is a responsibility.

V. But a certain Samaritan had compassion on him. THERE ARE UNEXPECTED SOURCES OF HELP IN LIFE. YOU have found it so in business; others have found it so in sympathy; others in periods of great perplexity. This reflection of great value as showing —

1. That we all need help.

2. As protecting men from despair.

3. As showing that we ourselves may become the unexpected helpers of others. In the distribution of help we are not to be limited

(a)by theological creeds;

(b)by natural prejudices;

(c)by personal dislikes.We are to help humanity as such. The Christian application of this study is obvious.

1. Life is a perilous journey.

2. Lost men will never be saved by formal piety.

3. The true Helper is the very Being whom we have offended.The Teacher of this parable is the Exemplar of its beneficent doctrine. The teacher should always be the explanation of his own lesson.

(J. Parker, D. D.)

The priest and the Levite knew the law, which was written in a book, perfectly. They had nothing to learn about that. The words of it rose at once to their lips; they could confound any one who disputed it. And yet when they were called to fulfil this law — when their neighbour lay on the ground needing their help, they did not remember it at all. It was a long way from them. They were to love their neighbour as themselves, no doubt. But who was their neighbour? Not this poor creature, though he was a Jew, a son of Abraham, an heir of the covenant. They owed him nothing; they were going on their own errands; what was he to them. That is to say, they had the law of love upon tables, but they had it not written on their hearts. They were serving God for hire; they could do things which they thought would profit them, and avoid things which they thought would injure them, but they did nothing because they had God's mind; they did nothing because they felt to men as He feels towards them. But this Samaritan, although he had never studied the words of the law as they had; though he had not a hundredth part of the blessings which belonged to them; though he had probably a great many mistakes and confusions in his head from which they were free, had this law of love in his heart, and showed that he had. God had written it there. And therefore he did not ask whether this poor half-dead traveller by the roadside belonged to his village, or his town, or his country, or his religion. He had nothing to do with any of those questions, supposing there was any one able to answer them. This was his neighbour, for he was a man. That was quite enough, and therefore he at once did what his neighbour wanted, what he would have had another do to him. Here was a lesson for the lawyer; one which he might be learning day by day, which would last him as long as he remained on earth, and long after that. If he would keep God's commandments, he must give up his pride as a lawyer, his pride as a Jew; he must become simply a man, just like this poor despised Samaritan. He must understand that God cared for men, and therefore he must care for them.

(F. D. Maurice, M. A.)

The attention drawn to the condition of the poor is one of the most encouraging signs of the times. Is that a desirable state of civilization in which such multitudes are doomed to so degraded and wretched a condition? Can it be that this is a necessity, or that it can be consistent with the will of that loving Father of whom we are told that it is not His will that one of His little ones should perish? What has Christianity to say to such questions as these? It will not do for it to stand dumb and helpless in the presence of these perplexities, which are troubling numbers of thoughtful minds, and that dense mass of wretchedness which lies as a heavy burden upon loving hearts. There is special need for the exercise of Christian influence because of the perils by which our social system is at present menaced. It is the imperative duty of the Christian teacher to discount the extravagant expectations which too many indulge as to what others — Parliament, or the Church, or rich people — can do for them, and to make them understand that it is but little real and enduring help which all combined can give to those who have not learned how to help themselves. This is one part of the message of Christianity to the poor; but those who speak it can only hope to succeed if they are able also to teach some lessons, equally necessary to be learned, and perhaps equally impalatable, to those on the opposite side.

1. One of the first of these certainly is that the well-being of men is of infinitely higher importance than the success of trade. A nation can afford to lose some of its wealth; but it cannot afford to have in its midst a number of men whose condition is a scandal to its religion, a reproach to its civilization, a standing menace to its institutions.

2. The principle which must govern a Christian's conduct in the transaction of his business must also regulate the distribution of his wealth. He cannot indulge in the arrogant spirit which says, "This is all my own, and I can do with it as I will." It is not his own, for the reason that he himself is not his own.

3. But behind all this must. be the spirit of true sympathy — a love without hypocrisy — gracious, generous, spontaneous, free. The change wanted is in human hearts, rather than in the arrangements of society. The true sympathy will quietly produce these, and when that sympathy is not active, even they would fail of the desired result.

(J. G. Rogers, B. A.)

Here is my neighbour, here is one for whom I am bound to care. It matters not what the need or distress may be, love will be ready to supply the need or relieve the distress to the utmost of its power.

1. It may be bodily suffering. It was bodily suffering that the good Samaritan was represented as displaying his compassion for. Christ's miracles were mostly miracles of mercy. If we had enough of true love, I believe we should send out medical missionaries to the heathen, even though we had no hope of securing converts to the gospel. The crowding together of human beings into wretched dwellings under conditions obnoxious to both physical and moral life are evils which might engage the most anxious thoughts, and elicit the deepest sympathies of every Christian man and woman in our large towns.

2. It may be the subtle mischief of unbelief, which is, no doubt, slaying its thousands in the present age, and sapping the strength and endangering the future of society.

3. It may be the burdens of a spirit labouring under a sense of sin, burdens only to be removed by the soul's directly closing with Christ's invitation to come unto Him for rest. It may, in a word, be any sorrow and any sin. All around us there are multitudes of wounded men and women whom we ought not to pass by without helping them. Have we, then, been striving, as in duty bound, to fulfil the old, old law of love, the royal law which sums up all law? Have we been faithfully endeavouring to meet the demands made upon us by a world around us with its multitudinous mass of wounded and dying men? Surely we need to humble ourselves, because we have so greatly failed in this respect.

(Professor Flint, D. D. , LL. D.)

The Rev. Mr. Kelly, of Ayr, once preached an excellent sermon from the parable of the man who fell among thieves. He was particularly severe on the conduct of the priest who saw him, and ministered not unto him, but passed by on the other side; and in an animated and pathetic flow of eloquence, he exclaimed, "What I not even the servant of the Almighty I he whose tongue was engaged in the work of charity, whose bosom was appointed the seat of brotherly love, whose heart the emblem of pity; did he refuse to stretch forth his hand, and to take the mantle from his shoulders to cover the nakedness of woe? If he refused, if the shepherd himself went astray, was it to be wondered at that the flock followed?" The next day, when the river was much increased in height, a boy was swept overboard, from a small boat, by the force of the current. A great concourse of people were assembled, but none of them attempted to save the boy; when Mr. Kelly, who was dressed in his canonicals, threw himself from his chamber window into the current, and at the hazard of his own life saved that of the boy.

(W. Baxendale.)

Cold comfort can some ministers render to afflicted consciences: their advice will be equally valuable with that of the Highlander who is reported to have seen an Englishman sinking in a bog on Ben Nevis. "I am sinking!" cried the traveller. "Can you tell me how to get out?" The Highlander calmly replied, "I think it is likely you never will," and walked away.

(C. H. Spurgeon.)

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