unarmed we have our defenceless heads covered with the shadow of the
great wing, which, though sense sees it not, faith knows is there. A
servant of God is never without a friend, and when most unsheltered

'From marge to blue marge
The whole sky grows his targe,
With sun's self for visible boss,'

beneath which he lies safe.

'Salvation will God appoint for walls and bulwarks,' and if we realise,
as we ought to do, His purpose to keep us safe, and His power to keep us
safe, and the actual operation of His hand keeping us safe at every
moment, we shall not ask that these defences shall be supplemented by
the poor feeble earthworks that sense can throw up.

III. Lastly, note the citizens.

Our text is part of a 'song,' and is not to be interpreted in the cold-
blooded fashion that might suit prose. A voice, coming from whom we know
not, breaks in upon the first strain with a command, addressed to whom
we know not--'Open ye the gates'--the city thus far being supposed to be
empty--'that the righteous nation which keepeth the truth may enter in.'
The central idea there is just this, 'Thy people shall be all
righteous.' The one qualification for entrance into the city is absolute
purity.

Now, brethren, that is true in regard to our present imperfect
denizenship within the city; and it is true in regard to men's passing
into it in its perfect and final form. As to the former, there is