confidence by the faith of Him.' The brightness is great and awful,
but go nearer, as you can in Jesus, and lo! there is love in the
brightness. You see it all tender and sweet. A heart and a hand are
there, and from the midst of it the Father's voice speaks, and says,
'My son, give Me thine heart.'

The religion of fear is worthless. It produces no holiness, it does
nothing for a man, it does not bind him to God. He is none the
stronger for it. It paralyses so far as it does anything.

It is spasmodic and intermittent. It is impossible to keep it up, so
it comes in fits and starts. When the morning comes men laugh at their
terrors. It leads to wild endeavours to forget God--atheism--to
insensibility. He who begins by fearing when there was no need, ends
by not fearing when he ought.

II. The Religion of Form.

The Samaritans' whole worship was outward worship. They did the things
which the Beth-el priest taught them to do, and that was all.

And this again is a type, very common in our day. Religion must have
forms. The forms often help to bring us the spirit. But we are always
in danger of trusting to them too much.

How many of us have our Christianity only in outward seeming? The only
thing that unites men to God is love.

So your external connection with God's worship is of no use at all
unless you have that.