good will to
such guilty creatures may well evoke the old, wondering cry, Hear, O
heavens; be astonished, O earth! On recalling the happy days of early
life, when, a child, he lay in his father's arms; a boy, he sat on his
knee; a youth, he walked by his side--the tears that at parting
streamed over the old man's cheeks--his kind counsels, his tender
warnings, his warm kisses, and how he had stood and watched his
departing steps till the brow of a hill or a turn of the road hid him
from view, the poor prodigal ventured to hope that his father would
not turn him from his door; for the sake of the past and of his mother
in the grave, would grant him at least a servant's place. Weighed down
by a sense of guilt, his hopes rose to no higher flight--expected
nothing beyond a menial's office. To be received with open arms, to
be welcomed back again like some youth who has gone abroad to win a
fortune or be crowned with laurels--that his should be the fairest
robe, the finest ring, the fatted calf--that instead of stealing in
under the cloud of night to be concealed from strangers' eyes, the old
house on his return should ring to the sound of music, and floors
should shake to the dancers' feet, and the whole neighbourhood should
be called to rejoice with a father whose shame and sorrow he had been,
was a turn of fortune he never dreamt of; never dared to hope for. On
the part of that loving, forgiving father, what amazing good will! But
how much more amazing this which God proclaimed by the lips of angels,
and proved by the death of His beloved Son!

I have known fathers and mothers who were sorely tried by wayward,
wicked children--I have seen their gray hairs go down with sorrow to
the grave. With hearts bleeding under wounds from the hands of one
they loved, I have seen them welcome the grave; saying as they
descended into its quiet rest, "the days of my mourning are ended." It
is a horrid crime to wring tears from such eyes, to crush such hearts:
but was ever patient, hoping, loving parent tried as we have tried our
Father in heaven? Not without reason does He ask, "If I be a father,
where is mine honour? if I be a master, where is my fear?" And who
that thinks of his sins, their guilt, their number, and, as committed
against infinite love and tender mercy, their unspeakable atrocity,
but will acknowledge the truth of these words, "Because I am God, and
not man, therefore the children of men are not consumed"--just as it
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