to say, that if two could be found who were willing to go together and live in this way, if they were not in some way severely punished, they might thank their good stars for it.  In the next place I have to say that such cohabitation would wholly subvert the order of society by giving loose reins to lust which would break in upon the legal relationships of the social compact to an extent that would place us on a social level with the aborigines of America.

And what would the Lord’s kingdom be without a visible church?  He says:  “My kingdom is not of this world.”  His kingdom being essentially invisible, it remains a matter of necessity that there be some way for making its subjects visible to one another as such, and capable of being recognized and known as such.

Our Lord says:  “The kingdom of heaven cometh not with observation; for lo! the kingdom of heaven is within you.”  Now, we cannot look into a man’s heart.  All we can know of a man’s heart is from what he says and does.  But the Lord has established an order for the subjects of his kingdom.  He has proclaimed a law, call it a ceremonial law if you choose, by obedience to which all the subjects of his kingdom on earth may be found out and become known to each other.  That law is the Lord’s will made visible in the order of his brethren, carried out in the forms of church organization by means of established ordinances appointed by him.  The Lord does not want his bride to wander through earth’s vanities a viewless, inactive, unprotected entity: 

  Doing nothing for his cause,
  Learning nothing of his laws;

but he wants her to appear “all glorious within” and without; “bright as the sun, fair as the moon, and terrible as an army with banners.”

I have been accused by some of never preaching a sermon without having something to say about baptism, as if discoursing on that subject might be criminal in their eyes.  I can boldly say I do not like to close a sermon without saying something about it, because baptism in water, as the door to the visible church, has so much significance in it that I do not feel as if I had fully discharged my duty to the souls of men without it.  But I am not altogether singular in this respect.  I have some very good company.  John the Baptist had baptism in two of his sermons.  Peter the apostle had baptism, in two out of three of his sermons.  Ananias had baptism in the sermon he preached to Saul, and that in a shape altogether too strong for many, as that Saul should wash away his sins in it.  Philip had baptism in his sermon to the eunuch, and Paul had baptism in his joyful anticipations of heavenly glory, and calls it the washing of regeneration; and in fact he laid strong emphasis on it in his answer to the Philippian jailer’s question, “What shall I do to be saved?” But the Lord’s sermon to Nicodemus gives the crown to baptism as the visible birth into the visible church.  He calls it “born of water,”—­internally born of the Spirit, externally born of water.  So you see, friends, I have plenty of company in this line of preaching, and good company too.