SIMON PETER.

BY REV. F. W. HOLLAND.

A MORE simple character than Peter's could not well be studied. The oldest of the apostles one of the earliest of the disciples-a fisherman by profession the Saviour's host at Capernaum-the first in danger, first in duty, first in the confession of Christ, and first in his denial-he seems the born head of the new church, until the conversion of Paul gave to the cause a champion yet more heroic. His life certainly cannot be wanting in the highest moral lessons; his spirit may well pass before us, to rebuke our halting obedience, our languid attachment, our half-way confession of the Master.

There is, I cannot but think, peculiar confirmation of the credibility of the gospels, in their artless yet perfectly symmetrical presentation of Peter. Unacquainted as they were with the sketching of character, an art of very modern date, here is a character

uniformly in harmony with itself- a character running its marked traits to excess, yet never deviating from them-doing at times what it seemed impossible for him to do, yet just as unconscious as a babe of his extravagance- surprising us with wonderful glimpses of heroism, which look strange enough beside his frequent cowardice, yet which, viewed a little farther, stand out before us in a lustrous consistency-whose development comes along necessarily in the current of the Saviour's experience.

Who does not see that these most childlike narrators give us, in every thing which this apostle does or fails to do, the same disinterestedness and daring, the same forward, sanguine spirit, the same entire ignorance of himself, the same perfect reliance on Christ? and yet, mingling in bold contrast with this, what a headstrong and precipitate temper, how easily surprised, how soon dismayed, how continually liable to veer from one pole of feeling to the other.

The same fervid zeal that impelled him to walk needlessly on the swollen sea that protested, "I will lay down my life for thy sake"- that even rebuked Jesus when he spake of his own death, saying, "Be it far from thee, it shall not be done

unto thee!"- that exclaimed at the supper, "Thou shalt never wash my feet" that drew the unbidden weapon of assault, and gave the first blow in the garden of betrayal preserves every where the same moral likeness. From beginning to end, there appear the same fluctuations of thought and emotion, the same terror at peril, the same treachery in extremity, until the resurrection of Jesus and the descent of the Holy Spirit started him anew,—a changed creature.

It was the self-same mind which leaped in each case to the farthest extreme which burst out in the exclamation, "Not my feet only, but my hands and my head"--which cried on the tossing waves, “Save me, or I perish," while in perfect safety beneath his Master's eye- - which shortly after denied him with repeated oaths in the judgmenthall-which broke forth then in a repentance deep as the offence, in a contrition acceptable to the searching eye of Jesus, and not wanting in the experience of after years and which, less confident of success, would have been very likely to have succeeded less sure of the result, could have made the result sure beyond a doubt. Each of these striking events is so perfectly Peter-like, that we need not his name attached to tell us who said or did thus;

as long as it was one of the twelve, we are quite certain which one. Any hesitancy about the agent is impossible; all minds fix at once upon a single prominent personage; and, all this symmetry of character, without any attempt to put it in the front, nay, without any conception that the facts would ever be turned to any such account.

Circumstances appear to bring out the apostle; events as they pass develop his soul; his impetuous spirit places him in the foreground, beside his Master; his headlong zeal throws the rest of the band into the shade. And the unquestionable reality of such a prominent actor invests the whole narrative with the drapery of truth; we feel from one such test that we are dealing with real men and actual events; we carry this conviction with us through the Acts and Epistles, as well as the Gospels; the names there given are no longer mere names; the personages there presenting themselves in such brief glimpses are far enough from being ideal- they are bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh. Such simple, unstudied narratives could never have been manufactured to impose upon our credulity by men, who exhibit, like children, their own weakness and worldliness in humbling contrast with the spirituality of Jesus; no such character could

have been perfectly maintained through the utmost variety of incident with entire sameness of thought. Such is one of the inartificial testimonials which address themselves at once to all hearts, which appeal to all consciences alike, which furnish a kind of proof, often overlooked by the learned theologian, but richly blessed to the disciple's soul.

But the great thing in Peter's experience is the proof it affords, that right feeling is not enough; nor right action; nor, least of all, right conversation, a Christian profession before the church or the world; that, underlying all these as the granite underlies the crust of earth, must be right principle.

There is no danger that feeling will ever be undervalued; it is so delightful to possess, and so beautiful in manifestation; it is so easily assumed, and so generously welcomed; it is so prompted by circumstance, and ministered to by a constant Providence, as to require none of that solicitude which other parts of Christian character demand. We are all attracted to a generous, enthusiastic piety, like that of Peter; while the purity of Nathaniel sometimes chills us, and the inquiring temper of Thomas jars us like a blow. But mere feeling is like the wind which fills the sails, and if principle guide not the ship, may wreck us all upon the first rock. Feeling