or of the plants, or of the heavenly bodies, a witness of God and of eternity.  Their whole lives would be a witness; their whole conversation would be a witness; their outward and more peculiar acts of worship would then bear their part in harmony with all the rest.  Every day would the voices of the Church be heard in its services of prayer and thanksgiving; every day would its members renew their pledges of faithfulness to Christ, and to one another, upon partaking together the memorials of his sacrifice.

What could we desire more than such a living witness as this?  What sign in the sky, what momentary appearance of a spirit from the unseen world, could so impress us with the reality of God, as this daily worshipping in his living temple; this daily sight, of more than the Shechinah of old, even of his most Holy Spirit, diffusing on every side light and blessing?  And what is now become of this witness? can names, and forms, and ordinances, supply its place? can our unfrequent worship, our most seldom communion, impress on us an image of men living altogether in the presence of God, and in communion with Christ?  But before we dwell on this, we may, while considering the design of the true Church of Christ, well understand how such excellent things should be spoken of it, and how it should have been introduced into the Creed itself, following immediately after the mention of the Holy Ghost.  That holy universal Church was to be the abiding witness of Christ’s love and of Christ’s promises; not in its outward forms only, for they by themselves are not a living witness; they cannot meet our want—­to have God and heavenly things made real to us; but in its whole spirit, by which renewed man was to bear as visibly the image of God, as corrupted man had lost it.  This was the sure sign that Christ had appointed to abide until his coming again; this sign, as striking as the burning bush, would compel us to observe; would make us sure that the place whereon we stand is holy ground.

Then follows the question:  With this sign lost in its most essential points, how can we supply its place? and how can we best avail ourselves of those parts of it which still remain? and how can we each endeavour to build up a partial and most imperfect imitation of it, which may yet, in some sort, serve to supply our great want, and remind us daily of God?  This opens a wide field for thought, to those who are willing to follow it; but much of it belongs to other occasions rather than this:  the practical part of it,—­the means of most imperfectly supplying the want of God’s own appointed sign, a true and living universal Church, shall be the subject of my next Lecture.

LECTURE XXIX.

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PSALM cxxxvii. 4.

How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?