his
work, his present office and coming glories.

All these are analogies, types, pictures, are so related to Christ
that he alone explains them; the explanation is filled with such
perfection of harmony in every detail, the relation between them and
our Lord Jesus Christ as the Antitype is so strikingly self-evident,
that any discussion of it would be useless.

When you find a key and lock which fit each other, you conclude they
were intended for each other.

In the light of facts already cited, what other conclusion can be
drawn than that Christ and the Bible were intended for each other?

And when you see this Bible coming together part by part,
foretelling the Christ and explained alone by him, what sane
conclusion is possible other than the book which is opened and
explained by him who is not only the Christ but the Personal Word of
God, _must be_, and _is_, THE WRITTEN WORD OF GOD!

Let your mind dwell for a moment on the style of the book.

It is so simple that a child may understand it; so profound, that
the mightiest intellect cannot go beyond its depths. It is so
essentially rich that it turns every language into which it is
translated into a classic. At one moment it is plain narration; at
another, it is all drama and tragedy, in which cataclysmic climax
crashes against climax.

It records the birth of a babe, the flight of an angel, the death of
a king, the overthrow of an empire or the fall of a sparrow. It
notes the hyssop that groweth out of the wall and speaks of the
cedars of Lebanon. It shows us so pastoral a thing as a man sitting
at his tent door in the cool of the day, and then paints for us a
city in heaven with jasper walls, with golden streets, and where
each several gate that leadeth into the city is one vast and shining
pearl.

It is full of outlines--outlines as large and bare as mountain
peaks, and then it is crowded with details as minute as the sands of
the sea. There are times when clouds and darkness float across its
pages and we hear from within like unto the voice of him who
inhabiteth eternity; in another moment the lines blaze with light,
the revelation they give is high noon--and all the shadows are under
the feet.

It is terrible in its analysis and cold and emotionless in the hard
impact of its synthesis. It describes moments of passion in
passionless words, and states infinite conclusions without the hint
of an emphasis. It shows us a man in hell (hades) and, althoug