begins as usual--he 'lived'; but afterwards, instead of that word,
we read that he 'walked with God'--happy they for whom such a phrase
is equivalent to 'live'--and, instead of 'died,' it is said of him
that 'he _was not_.' That seems to imply that he, as it were,
slipped out of sight or suddenly disappeared; as one of the psalms
says, 'I looked, and lo! he was not.' He was there a moment ago--now
he is gone; and my text tells how that sudden withdrawal came about.
God, with whom he walked, put out His hand and took him to Himself.
Of course. What other end could there be to a life that was all
passed in communion with God except that apotheosis and crown of it
all, the lifting of the man into closer communion with his Father
and his Friend?

So, then, there are just these two things here--the noblest life and
its crown.

1. The noblest life.

'He walked with God.' That is all. There is no need to tell what he
did or tried to do, how he sorrowed or joyed, what were his
circumstances. These may all fade from men's knowledge as they have
somewhat faded from his memory up yonder. It is enough that he
walked with God.

Of course, we have here, underlying the phrase, the familiar
comparison of life to a journey, with all its suggestions of
constant change and constant effort, and with the suggestion, too,
that each life should be a progress directly tending to one clearly
recognised goal. But passing from that, let us just think for a
moment of the characteristics which must go to make up a life of