The wisdom of God has been clearly evinced in the spiritual training of the human family. The forbidden fruit was the wisest test that God could impose on Adam. The simple sacrifice of a lamb was the fittest training of men's souls during the patriarchal age. And as the race developed from infancy into youth, and from youth to manhood, God's methods for unfolding and maturing the spiritual nature have been singularly appropriate. The highest good man can obtain is the development of his spirit - the expansion of his highest powers. To this end all religious worship is designed to contribute.

I. MAN'S SPIRITUAL LIFE BEGINS AT ZERO. In all God's works we see development from a simple germ to highest perfection. For high reasons God does not produce perfected natures at a single stroke. Even this unconscious earth passed through long stages of preparation before it was fit for human habitation. The rose does not reach perfection except by patient culture. Everything about us is in transition, and is moving onward in a course of development. Art is not yet perfected. Our bodily nature begins with a microscopic germ, and slowly develops towards maturity. If anything is plainly revealed in Scripture, it is this - that the life of the soul begins at the lowest point and is intended to reach the highest. We do not begin our earthly career with robust faith in the unseen God, nor yet with a sensitive conscience, nor yet with strong aspirations after moral excellence. All this is the result of research and self-discipline and prayer. Clearly there is an intimate analogy between all the varieties of life known to us. With respect to the grain there is first the seed, then the blade, then stalk, then ear, then full corn in the ear. With respect to the body there is babyhood, infancy, youth, manhood, maturity. And the life of the soul begins with a thought, a feeling, a wish, a prayer. It begins in the understanding, passes into the conscience, touches the emotions, moves the desires, constrains the will, moulds the life. It begins in feebleness and develops into world-controlling power. Probably the main reason for this is that the spiritual life, to have any beauty or excellence, must be the spontaneous desire and endeavor of the man himself. If, by the constitution of his nature, a man must be holy and benevolent, there would be no merit in holiness, no worth in benevolence. Therefore scope is given to a man, greater or lesser, to foster the young germ of spiritual life, and to develop it unto the noblest perfection. This is our supreme business during our mortal career.

II. MAN'S SPIRITUAL LIFE CAN BE NOURISHED BY ACTS OF PUBLIC WORSHIP. The temple in the olden time, and Christian sanctuaries now, are designed by God for this end.

1. Instruction is provided. In the former ages this was furnished in the form of rite and emblem; now, almost entirely, by oral utterance. There is conveyed information respecting God, his nature, his kingdom, his will, his doings; information respecting man, his nature, his fall, his redemption, his possible elevation to purity, his destinies in a future state.

2. Access to God is allowed. Self-inspection is encouraged. Interior sin, in inclination and desire, is detected. The eye is turned inward upon the soul. The best sensibilities of the heart are strengthened and expanded. A vision of holiness is obtained. New aspirations begin to bud. The sacred influence of God is felt upon the soul. True prayer is stimulated.

3. Right habits are confirmed. Every man is more or less influenced by his fellow-man, so contact with holy men produces salutary impressions upon every sensitive mind. The forceful presentation of truth upon the moral nature tends to elevate it. Convictions of religious duty are inwrought. Regard for God's revelation and for God's will is deepened. Resolution to follow a right course is often formed. The energies of the soul are braced up for high endeavor. Familiarity with God and with eternal things is increased. As a plant grows and buds under the influence of the vernal sun, so a man's soul unfolds amid the surroundings of public worship.

4. A Divine influence is present.

III. MAN'S SPIRITUAL LIFE IS EITHER HELPED OR CHECKED BY EVERY VISIT TO THE SANCTUARY. This is the main truth taught in this verse. Men were not allowed, in the second temple, to retrace their steps. They might not depart by the same path as that by which they approached the altar. Without doubt this was ordained in order to leave an impressive lesson on their minds. The law yet remains. It is written on man's spiritual constitution. It is written in the very structure of the temple. No man leaves God's house precisely the same man as he went in. He is either worse or better for his visit. If he has yielded in any measure to the claims of God, he is the better. If he has resisted them afresh, he is the worse.

1. Let us contemplate the foolish man.

(1) If he enter by the gate of self-righteousness he will in all probability leave by the gate of insensibility. His soul will be hardened under the process. The sun that melts wax hardens clay.

(2) If he enter by the gate of unbelief he will leave by the gate of despair. Foregone conclusions fasten like a bandage upon the eyes. The root of blindness is a perverse will. The man without God is without hope.

(3) If he enter by the gate of formal custom he will leave by the gate of bondage. His carnal fetters will have been more firmly riveted by the visit.

2. Let us contemplate the wise man - the beneficial visit.

(1) He who enters by the gate of inquiry leaves by the gate of knowledge.

(2) He who enters by the gate of penitence leaves by the gate of peace.

(3) He who enters by the gate of prayer leaves by the gate of triumph.

(4) He who enters by the gate of consecration leaves by the gate of immortal hope. - D.

The Prince shall mean to us the man Christ Jesus, whom God has exalted to be a Prince and a Saviour. Isaiah calls Him the "Prince of Peace"; and Peter, the "Prince of Life." I don't know where the Prince's central palace is, nor where He holds His court. It is in the far country which no human eye has ever explored; somewhere beyond the unknown seas which no embodied soul can navigate, and from which no traveller has come back to tell the tale. But I live in hope, the hope that stirs many another eager heart, that on some fair morning I shall see this King in His beauty, in the land that won't be far off then! But this verse tells us something quite good enough and bright enough for us to know: "The Prince is in the midst of them." It is not often that the royalties of earth occupy a place like that; some of them are shut up in splendid seclusion. Most men know only the names of the great and noble; all of them are removed from the society of the poor. But our Prince has no preference, no selection, no priority. He is in the midst of His people, and His light and smile are always to be seen. The gifts of His bounty are as free to the man who is lowly, to the sons of poverty, as to the sons of wealth. But it is not everybody who recognises the presence of the Prince when He is here. He may smile as royally as the sunlight, and yet you may be so insensible as never to know He is near. Do you acknowledge His rule? Do you submit to His authority? Do you obey His command? A prince has laws, — do you honour them? A prince has reverence, — do you reverence Him? This Prince covets your affections, — do you love Him? I knew a Christian woman who was always found early in the sanctuary. She was quite deaf, and heard neither song nor sermon. I asked her why she came and whether she was the better for it, and her answer is worth recording: "The communion of saints is sweet in itself, and a neighbour always finds the lessons and the text for me, and the Lord speaks to me, and His voice is very sweet to me." You see that her loyalty brought her into the presence of royalty. The Prince was there to speak, touch, and smile to her. And the Prince in the midst of them when they go in shall go in with them. You see that the loyal hearts that honour Christ bring Him with them. They cross the threshold together with Christ, and sit together with Him in the pew. I am afraid that there is too little of this with us. We should seek to be prepared for the house of prayer beforehand, that we and the Prince may come there hand in hand. "When they go forth." That is the best test of any sanctuary service. Do we carry with us the companion, the guest who says to us as we go forth from the house of God, what He said to Zacchaeus when He called that publican, "I must abide at thy house," thy house. Always understand that where the Prince's subjects are, those who are loyal to Him, in whose hearts He reigns — ruling in the life, — that the Prince is always with them. He does not part company with them at morning prayer; He does not breathe a benediction on them at the family gathering, and then retire to the throne of His glory. But He takes His place, too, in the tram, the 'bus, or the train. He cheers and gives the strength and power to the ordinary doings of the day. If we would but remember to realise this, what a grand and noble business the daily round and common task would be! Don't you think the company and oversight of our Prince is to be desired? I do believe in a religion that has to do with every five minutes of our time. Sure am I that your burdens would be lighter, your cares lessened, your hands strengthened, and your hearts cheered, if you could but feel that your Prince was present to smooth your path and to dwell within prayerful reach of you all the time; and oh! what a defence that would be against the continuity of temptations that assail us through life. I remember reading of a lad who was tempted to steal his master's goods by one of his fellow workmen. "John, you can do so-and-so now; the master has gone now; the master is not in." "No," said the lad, "my Master is always in." Well done, John! that is the true principle of life. His Master was the Prince. Christ had gone into the shop with him. I want you to see that my text is especially grandly and beautifully true in the days of our suffering and trial. If you yourself are called on to drop your tool, to lay down your pen, to retire awhile from actual life, and to prepare for illness, the Prince, when you go in, shall go in too; for there, more than ever, He is near to comfort and to bless. His voice is then so gentle, His touch so tender, and His companionship so sweet. He makes the sick chamber the house of God, and the gate of heaven. And my text says a little more than that. The Prince in the midst of them when they go forth shall go forth too. This is a promise for the traveller. We travel much nowadays; travel rapidly and in a good deal of peril. What a promise for the traveller when he goes forth. He shall go forth too! What a promise for the emigrant as he says "Good-bye" to his friends. "Good-bye, my lad," said an old man whom I knew, to a young fellow, "there is one thing that keeps my heart from breaking and that is that the Lord is with thee, lad." Christ was going forth with the boy! What a promise that is for the youth leaving the parental roof! Or for the evangelist going out to proclaim the Gospel. The Prince is in the midst of them; when they go forth He shall go forth. Is not that a grand promise for us in view of our departure from earth? Our last exit, our going forth from the brief life which is here our portion, will come, perhaps, soon. At the bedside of the dying, Christ enters, and He shall not leave us alone then. I think the record of the goings forth from life of Christians is most encouraging. Rutherford was glorying in God when his very feet were on the shore, and he said , as he went, "I have gotten the victory, and Christ, my Savior, is holding out both arms to embrace me. Why is death called the dark valley, for it grows brighter and brighter, and it is now so bright I have to shut my eyes." His lips parted in a smile. So he went forth, and the Prince went forth with him. Then his eyes were opened, to be shut no more. An English lady visiting the great Exhibition in Paris, was seized with sudden illness. But she longed to be loyal to the Prince whom she had long ago crowned with her heart. In her last moments her speech left her, but she managed to utter a simple word — Bring. Her friends offered her a drink of water, and she said again — Bring. Then they moistened her lips, and prayed. Then they thought she must desire to see some absent friend, and they whispered in her ear that he should be sent for, and she said, with a last effort, "Bring forth the royal diadem, and crown Him Lord of all." And when the Prince, who was in the midst, when she went forth, went — yes, the two went forth together — Christ and the saved soul went forth into the silence of the great unknown.

(J. J. Wray.)