ased to its climax, we
know not; but at length he suddenly emerges another man. "He came to
himself:" the wild foul stream that had sunk into the earth and flowed
for a space under ground, bursts to the surface again, agitated still
indeed, but now comparatively pure. We learn for the first time that the
man has been mad, by learning that his reason is restored. It is a
characteristic of the insane that they never know or confess their
insanity until it has passed away: it is when he has come to himself
that he first discovers he has been beside himself. The two beings to
whom a man living in sin is most a stranger are himself and God; when
the right mind returns, he becomes acquainted with both again. The first
act of the prodigal, when light dawned on his darkness, was to converse
with himself, and the second to return to his father.

A man can scarcely find a more profitable companion than himself. These
two should be well acquainted, and deal frankly with each other; in the
case of the prodigal how disastrous was the estrangement, how blessed
the reconciliation between them! The young man, during the period of his
exile, was as much a stranger to himself as to his father. His return to
himself became the crisis of his fate; from the interview sprang the
burning thought, "I will arise and go to my father," and the resolute
deed, "he arose and went."

When he had determined to return, he returned at once, and returned as
he was. Emaciated by prolonged want,--naked, filthy, hungry, he came as
he was. He did not remain at a distance until by efforts of his own he
should make himself in some measure worthy to resume his original place
in the family; he came in want of all things, that out of his father's
fulness all his wants might be supplied. The signification of this
feature on the spiritual side is obvious; it exhibits a cardinal point
in the way of a sinner's return to God.

But while the repenting youth did not pretend to bring anything good to
his father's house, neither did he presume to bring thither anything
evil: his poverty and hunger were brought with him, but the companions
and instruments of his lusts were left behind. This is a distinctive
discriminating feature of true repentance. In the act of fleeing to his
father the prodigal leaves his associates, and his habits, and his
tastes behind: and conversely, as long as he clings to these he will
not--he cannot return to his father.

In the narrative it