indeed, but a temporary dishonour; it was one which he would soon
defilement, and not feel? God cannot be indifferent to the desolation which sin produces, even when righteousness constrains him not to interfere for its prevention, but only for its punishment. Yes, he feels it, he mourns over it, all the more, because mercy has reached its utmost limit, and righteousness demands the forthputting of his almightiness to avenge, and not to save. It may seem strange that a being of infinite power should grieve over that which the exercise of almightiness could have prevented. But let us not forget that there is righteousness as well as almightiness in God, and that, while his power can be limited or restrained by nothing out of himself, it is and must be limited by his other perfections, so that his almightiness cannot accomplish anything that is unrighteous. When, therefore, his power has reached its righteous limits, and can no longer be put forth towards the sinner, then it is that he is grieved at heart. He is grieved that sin has got to such a height that the works of his own hands must be destroyed, that they must be put away from his sight as an unclean thing.
2. He grieved at the dishonour thus brought upon himself. It was, indeed, but a temporary dishonour; it was one which he would soon repair; but still, it was an obscuration of his own fair character; it was a clouding of his glory; it was an eclipse, however transient. It was like a wound inflicted by a most unlooked for hand, which, however quickly healed, could not but be sorely felt. How could he but be grieved at heart at being thus dishonoured by those whom he had made to glorify him,—dishonoured by a favourite child,— dishonoured by those who, he might well expect, would have been specially sensitive on such a point, peculiarly tender and jealous of his honour.
3. He grieved at man's misery. Man had not been made for misery. Happiness, like a rich jewel, had been entrusted to him. He had flung it away, as worthless and undesirable. Not only had he taken no pains to retain the treasure, but he had laboured to alienate it. He had offered it for sale to every passer by; nay, he had cast it from him as vile. He had plunged himself into misery; he had refused to be