to do this our view of divine truth is defective and disproportioned.  The solemn warning in respect to the last book of revelation applies with equal force to revelation as a whole:  “If any man shall add unto these things, God shall add unto him the plagues that are written in this book:  and if any man shall take away from the words of the book of this prophecy, God shall take away his part out of the book of life, and out of the holy city, and from the things that are written in this book.”  Rev. 22:18, 19.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

SCRIPTURAL TYPES.

1.  The material world is full of analogies adapted to the illustration of spiritual things.  No teacher ever drew from this inexhaustible storehouse such a rich variety of examples as our Saviour.  His disciples are the salt of the earth, the light of the world, and a city set on a hill.  From the ravens which God feeds and the lilies which God clothes, he teaches the unreasonableness of worldly anxiety.  The kingdom of heaven is like seed sown in different soils, like a field of wheat and tares growing together, and like seed that springs up and grows the sower knows not how.  Again it is like a net cast into the sea, like a grain of mustard seed, and like leaven hid in three measures of meal.  When the Saviour opens his lips the whole world of nature stands ready to furnish him with arguments and illustrations; as well it may, since the God of nature is also the God of revelation. The world of secular activity abounds in like analogies, on which another class of our Lord’s parables is based; like that of the vineyard let out to husbandmen, the servants intrusted with different talents, the ten virgins, the importunate friend, the unjust judge, the unfaithful steward, the prodigal son, and others that need not be enumerated.  Analogies like these, however, do not properly constitute types.  Types rest on a foundation of analogy, but do not consist in analogy alone.

2.  In the history of God’s people, moreover, as well as of the world which he governs with reference to them, the present is continually foreshadowing something higher in the future.  This must be so, because the train of events in their history constitutes, in the plan of God, neither a loose and disconnected series nor a confused jumble of incidents, like a heap of stones thrown together without order or design, but a well-ordered whole.  It is a building, in which the parts now in progress indicate what is to follow.  It is the development of a plant, in which “the blade” foreshadows “the ear,” and the ear, “the full corn in the ear.”  The primal murder, when “Cain rose up against Abel his brother, and slew him,” “because his own works were evil and his brother’s righteous,” was the inauguration of the great conflict between the seed of the woman and the seed of the serpent—­the forerunner of the higher struggle in Egypt between