A LENT IN EARNEST (continued 2)

And so again and again we have our Heavenly Father's promise to defend His children against all their enemies, both spiritual and temporal. True, we must walk through the wilderness of this world, but we need not walk alone. True, we walk in the midst of enemies, yet "they that be with us are more than they that be with them" (2 Kings vi. 16), and if our eyes were opened, like those of the prophet's servant, we should, like him, see the angel hosts sent for defense. We may, nay we must, hunger and thirst, but the Lord will cause waters to break out in the wilderness, and streams in the desert. (Isa. xxxv. 6.) We need be afraid of none of its terrors. The light will break forth and the sun will rise, and show the ground covered with manna for our refreshment.

The thought of our God as a defense and shield should be a help and comfort to those Christians who are troubled with fears. There are those, especially among invalids, whose lives are made a burden to themselves and others by needless fears. They are afraid of lightning, of fire, of robbers, of they know not what. They feel as if every thunderbolt had a special commission for them; as if every blast of wind were a destroying angel. These fears are often merely nervous symptoms, but even then they are very much under the control of the patient. Let me say to such an one, Do but think, do but try to realize to yourself the fact that the Lord's right hand is stretched out to be your defense in all dangers—that He will defend thee under His wings, and thou shalt be safe under His feathers. Consider that the darkness is no darkness to Him, but the night is as clear as the day. (Ps. cxxxix. 11.)

Are not these terrors, then, an affront to Him, as implying a distrust in His plighted word? Dismiss them, then! Send them back to the darkness where they belong, and let your motto be, "I will lay me down in peace, and take my rest: for it is Thou, Lord, that makest me dwell in safety." (Ps. iv. 8.)

Ps. xci. St. John xiv.

THIRD MONDAY IN LENT.

OUR ENEMIES.

WE have seen that the collect we are considering has its foundation, like all the prayers that we learn at the knee of our mother, the Church, in the promises of God's word, and are therefore sure to be answered in some way. Observe, however, that it is nowhere said in the Bible that we are not to meet with adversities. Nay, we are told the express contrary. All His life long our Master endured hardship and trouble; and the servant is not above his Master. "In the world ye shall have tribulation," says our Lord to His apostles, but He graciously adds: "Be of good cheer; I have overcome the world." (St. John xvi. 33.)

What are those enemies which the Christian has to dread, and against which he has special need to pray for deliverance?

Here, again, our Lord leaves us in no doubt. "Fear not them which kill the body, and are not able to kill the soul" (St. Matt. x. 28); and again, "Fear not them that kill the body, and, after that, have no more that they can do." (St. Luke xii. 4.) This shuts out all that class of terrors of which I spoke in the last chapter. The cruelest murderer, the most destructive storm or earthquake, the most noisome pestilence, can only kill that which must die at any rate—which brought its death-warrant with it when it came into the world. They cannot destroy the real man or woman; nay, all their forces combined cannot deprive him of the very least of those things which God hath prepared for them that love Him (1 Cor. ii. 9); nor of one moment of that eternal life which God hath given us in His Son. (1 John v. 11.)

Clearly, then, the enemies we have to fear are those which assault and hurt the soul, and which, unless steadfastly resisted, are able to make our way dark and perilous, if not to deprive us of that inheritance which has been prepared for us. It is they whom we are to combat with all our force, and against whom we must specially ask our great Defender to stretch out His right hand. Yet even here we must not show ourselves coward and craven. We are soldiers of Christ. Let us never forget that. Every battle is fought for Him, every victory is a victory over His enemies as well as our own. He will never leave us to struggle alone, but is always with us, though we cannot always perceive Him. Let us, then, be strong in the Lord, and in the power of His might, knowing that His Father, who gave us to Him, is greater than all, and none is able to pluck us out of His hand. (St. John x. 29.)

Our spiritual enemies may all be classed under three heads—the world, the flesh, and the devil. Against these we are to fight manfully and to the death, never laying down our arms, never relaxing our vigilance, and, even though apparently beaten for the time, never giving up, till our Great Commander shall see our warfare accomplished, and call us home. It is the Christian's paradox that there is no peace except in war. If we give up the contest, we become slaves; and though our conquerors give us all the goods they have to bestow in this life, they do but treat us as cannibals treat their prisoners—fattening them, that they may devour them at last.

Hab. ii. St. Luke xii.

THIRD TUESDAY IN LENT.

THE WORLD.

EVERY general strives to know all that he can about his enemy, his nature and position, his powers and resources, and tries to foresee the plans of that enemy's attack, that he may be able to meet and frustrate them. Let us, then, inquire a little into the nature of those foes which beset our homeward path, and which would, if they could, hinder us from reaching the rest prepared for us in our Father's house. First of all, what is meant by the world?

The world means all that outside of ourselves which is alienated from and opposed to God, which is governed by and devoted to the things which are temporal, and ignores, if it does not hate, the things which are eternal. It is very wise in its own eyes; yea, according to its own canons, and from its own standpoint, wiser than the children of light. It is dreadfully in earnest in the things which it pursues, though those things may be of the most frivolous description. It gets into all sorts of places, alas even into the Church itself, running here and there for meat, and grudging if it be not satisfied, which, indeed, it never is. It is a severe master to its votaries, exacting the hardest and the most exclusive services and the most cruel sacrifices, and rewarding them at last with husks and rags.

The world puts on many disguises. To one it comes under the name of business, demanding of its slave that he shall give up everything else for the pursuit of money. It does not make this demand of every man at the beginning, and in so many words. No, it is more cunning than that. It tells him that it is his duty to provide for his family, not only needful food and clothes and the means of education, but a fine house in a fashionable quarter, and as many luxuries as his neighbor possesses. It makes him press hard on those who labor for him, and exact much work for little pay. It makes him rent tenements to men and women which are not fit for pigs to live in, and grudge the smallest outlay for the health and comfort of his tenants. It makes him plan and scheme to add a few thousands more to his useless millions, by raising the price of fuel and food to the poor man. By and by, the world has done with him. He speculates a little too rashly, and his wealth goes as it came. Or God says to him, "Thou fool! This night thy soul shall be required of thee!" and he goes forth from the visible and unreal to the invisible and real, a shivering, hungry, naked soul, homeless to all eternity. And that world for which he has toiled and sacrificed misses him as much as he missed the consumptive girl who breathed the foul air of his factory till her young life was poisoned, and she dropped at her machine, and went home to die.

The world comes to a woman with a family of little ones, and bids her leave these immortal pledges of God's love to servants, to learn their very prayers from alien lips, and spend her nights in amusements, and her days in planning for the nights. It exacts of her that she shall risk her health and blunt her sense of delicacy by immodest and insufficient clothing. It tell her that these things are necessary, a debt that she owes to society, and whispers that she can make up for all that needs an atonement, by putting on a sober dress and going to church regularly in Lent, or by giving about the fiftieth part of what her dress costs in charity.

To another woman, the world comes in sober attire, with a housewifely apron and a bunch of keys. It has another bait for this one, who would not attend a ballet for the world, and looks with horror on a game of cards. This woman's world is her house-keeping, and she can see nothing else. She would feel herself disgraced forever, if her neighbor put up more cans of fruit or gave more kinds of cake to her company than herself. Talk to her of the sewing-school or the district visiting society, and she will tell you of her anxieties about the doing up of her lace curtains. Tell her of the needs of the heathen, at home or abroad, she may listen politely, but her duty, she says, is to her own family, and she cannot do anything to help you because her dining-room chairs are quite out of fashion, and she must have new ones. Ask her to see that her little daughter has her catechism learned for Sunday-school, and she will tell you, as she sews the elaborate and costly trimming on the child's dress, that she has no time.

We are in bondage to the world so soon as we let the seen and temporal, no matter in what shape it comes, blind us to the unseen and eternal. We are in cruel bondage when we let the fear of what the world may say about us lead us to do what we know to be inconsistent with our baptismal vows and our loyalty to our Lord. We are slaves to the world when we allow any of the things which live in time and perish with time to possess our hearts to the exclusion of those things which belong to eternity. It is true, that as long as we are on the earth, the things of earth must claim much of our attention. Thank God! all these things may be made holy by an honest intention. But we cannot serve God and mammon, and he who tries to do so will in the end find himself deserted of both, and left to himself, that worst of all fates, from which may God in His mercy keep us all!

Psalm lxxiii. St. Luke xvi.

FOURTH WEDNESDAY IN LENT.

THE FLESH.

WHO and what are the enemies that come to us under this name?

All those pleasures and pursuits which appeal only or chiefly to our senses; to our earthly and mortal natures; to that carnal mind which St. Paul tells us is not, and by its very nature cannot be, subject to the law of God. The enemies of the flesh are all the more dangerous because they appear under the disguise of friends—of things harmless, and even necessary, in themselves. They are like slaves, serving their masters in deed, but with secret enmity, always watching their chance to rebel, and the cruelest of tyrants when they gain the mastery. Just because we cannot do without them, we need to guard against their abuse.

How much money is wasted every year upon table luxuries, which the consumers would be as well or better without! How many become such slaves to certain articles of food and drink that they find it almost impossible to do without these things, though they know, on the best authority, that health is being injured by their use! How many are vexed and put out of temper if their bodily comfort is invaded in the smallest degree! More than once have I seen the comfort of a whole table-full destroyed, and the meal rendered distasteful, by some one person, who persisted in finding fault with everything set upon the board.

It may seem at first sight a singular statement, that invalids need especially to maintain a strict watch over themselves in the matter of indulgence in eating and drinking, but I believe it is true. There is perhaps more excuse to be made for them than for most others, because they are, perforce, obliged to think a good deal of the matter; but for this very reason they need to guard themselves against dwelling too much on it, and against harmful self-indulgence. I have seen invalids keep themselves in a chronic state of discomfort, and consequent fretfulness, by eating too much. And it is an odd circumstance, though one well-known to doctors and nurses, that these very people are often fully convinced that they eat little or nothing.

Invalids are often led to injure themselves by an inordinate use of the drugs and stimulants prescribed by physicians. They find the use of such remedies followed by pleasant sensations, and take them many times when they are not really needful; and are so made the opium drunkard, the chloral drunkard, and not infrequently the whisky drunkard as well. I use the word advisedly. The man who lives upon laudanum, the woman who indulges in morphine or chloral, is just as much a drunkard as the man or woman who gets tipsy in the corner saloon, and usually an even more hopeless case. The whisky drunkard will often admit that he is such; the opium drunkard never.

The remedy for all these evils is to be found in one word—temperance. "Every man that striveth for the mastery is temperate in all things." (1 Cor. ix. 25.) The word "temperance" has come to be used in such a confined sense, that we are in danger of forgetting its larger application. We are to be temperate in all things; that is, we are to use them in such moderation as that they shall do us good instead of harm, and to have the mastery over our appetites, so we shall command them, and not they us.

I have been speaking of such things as are in themselves harmless, and even useful, but there are other temptations which come under the head of "the flesh," and to which the word "temperate" does not apply, because the soldier of Christ has no right to touch them at all. Such are all those indulgences which tend to blunt the moral sense, and to arouse bad thoughts and passions. These things often come to us under very pretty disguises of art, literature, and the like.

I have known a Christian read a vile book, hardly fit for a decent kitchen fire, excusing himself on the ground of the beautiful style—as if one should take poison because it was presented in a finely carved bowl. Christian women go to see other women—young girls, as precious in God's sight as their own daughters—exhibit themselves on the stage in shamelessly indecent dresses and dances. Yes, and they come away and express a virtuous horror of the poor creatures, who are not half as bad as themselves, inasmuch as they are working hard for a living, and not for idle amusement. A shamelessly wicked woman comes among us, and people who profess and call themselves Christians go to see and applaud her on the stage, because, forsooth, it is "an education in art."

In all such matters there is but one rule for the Christian—"touch not, taste not, handle not." Give the enemy no admission under any pretense, however specious. Nobody was ever hurt by letting a doubtful pleasure alone. Our carnal nature will in itself make us trouble enough without any help. By God's grace we can keep it in subjection, but how can we expect that grace, how dare we ask for it, if we run willfully into temptation?

Ps. xvii. 1 Cor. x.

FOURTH THURSDAY IN LENT.

OUR GHOSTLY ENEMY.

IT seems rather the fashion, just now, to deny the existence of Satan as a person at all. I suppose nothing could please him more than to be so denied. "I don't believe in a personal devil," said a lady in a Bible class; "I believe in a principle of evil." When asked to define what she meant by a principle of evil, it appeared that she had no very clear idea of the matter herself. The simple truth is that there is as much proof of the personality of Satan as of the Holy Spirit, and a believer in the Bible may as reasonably deny one as the other. Our Lord always speaks of him as a living, thinking, active being, as in St. John viii. 44, St. Matt. xiii. 19 and 39, and many other places. Try substituting the words "principle of evil" in these passages, and see what sense it will make. Satan is perhaps the most active member of that famous old firm "the world, the flesh, and the devil," in which indeed there are no silent partners. He is always ready to back the others, and, what is still worse, he has a secret ally in every heart, who, though crushed and kept under, is always trying to open correspondence with its old friend. He does not come to us in hideous disguise of hoof and horn, as the old painters have depicted him. None but a fool would do that; and he is no fool as concerns the ends he would compass. "The devil knows many things," says the Arab proverb, "because he is very old." He knows how to put on many disguises, and can on occasions transform himself into an angel of light.

Pride and anger, envy, hatred, and malice, are usually the sins specially attributed to Satan; but there is one class of sins which are particularly his own. I refer to lying in all its branches, to evil-speaking, slander, detraction, and the like. "When he speaketh of a lie, he speaketh of his own, for he is a liar, and the father of it," says our Lord. (St. John viii. 44.) Slander is his business and delight. He is "the accuser of our brethren" (Rev. xii. 10), and the patron of them that do the like.

This matter of evil-speaking is one that deserves grave consideration. It is a common and crying evil. There are probably few—I wish I dared say no—professing Christians who will deliberately invent a slander, but how many are there who will repeat one without a thought, and that of a fellow church-member, with whom they have perhaps knelt at the Lord's table only the day before. Mrs. A. hears a tale of shame concerning a young girl, which, if true, would be enough to blight the young thing's character forever. She does not know if it be true or false; perhaps she does not know the person by sight; but it is a piece of news, and for the dear delight of telling a story she repeats it—never, be it observed, without some slight addition, for few people can repeat a thing exactly as they hear it. Mrs. A. does not think that in so repeating a slander she is making herself responsible for it, but such is the case, and God will hold her so if man does not. She may think herself a very good woman at the very time that she is doing Satan's dirtiest work for him. It is not necessary that slander should always be put into direct words. An insinuation, a lifting of the hands and eyes, nay, silence itself, may and often does say more than words.

"A lie has a thousand legs, while the truth has but two," says the Eastern proverb. No matter how often a false statement is repeated, there is always some one to believe it and repeat it. Here is a notable instance. Some one once said that "every sixpence given to the heathen cost a dollar to send it." It is an utterly false statement, and has been proved so a dozen times; yet it is constantly repeated, and meets the missionary worker at every turn. "I have never cared to have anything to do with Mrs. N., since she was found out taking goods from G.'s store," said a person of one who was a fellow church-member. "But that was entirely disproved," said I, indignantly; "it was shown plainly that Mrs. N. simply took another parcel for her own—a mistake anyone might make." "Oh well, I never heard that!" was the reply. "It was an odd mistake, anyhow!" I suppose this story will be repeated to Mrs. N.'s discredit for years to come, and not one in twenty who hears it will hear the refutation.

It is a safe rule never to repeat anything to the disadvantage of another, unless absolutely necessary. The golden rule applies here as everywhere, "Think, if you are tempted to retail a bit of personal slander, how you would like it if the case were your own—if it were yourself or your wife or daughter that was attacked." Think that every fellow-Christian is a member of the Lord's body, and that in wounding the members you wound also the Head. Another good rule is never to repeat conversation. We all need the prayer, "Set a watch, O Lord, before my mouth, and keep the door of my lips." (Ps. cxli. 3.) Finally, since it is out of the abundance of the heart that the mouth speaketh, let us strive to keep our hearts and minds as become the temples of the Holy Ghost, pure and clean, and admit no visitors therein but such as are worthy of that greatest and most honored of all guests.

Ps. cxli. St. James iii.

FOURTH FRIDAY IN LENT.

THE GREAT TEMPTER.

"ONE thing I would not let slip: I took notice that poor Christian was so confounded that he did not know his own voice; and thus I perceived it. Just when he was come over against the mouth of the burning pit, one of the wicked ones got behind him, and stepped up softly to him, and whisperingly suggested many grievous blasphemies to him, which he verily thought had proceeded from his own mind. This put Christian more to it than anything that he met with before, even to think that he now blasphemed Him that he loved before. Yet if he could have helped it, he would not have done it; but he had not the discretion either to stop his ears, or to know whence these blasphemies came."

Does not this passage of Bunyan's describe the occasional experience of many a Christian? We find ourselves assailed by doubts and fears, by hard thoughts of our Father in Heaven, by wicked suggestions of all sorts, till we are ready to despair of ourselves, and to think ourselves hypocrites or castaways.

How it is that Satan contrives to inject these evil suggestions, or why he should be permitted to do so, I cannot tell, any more than I can tell why evil should exist at all. It is a part of that great mystery which may perhaps be explained in a future life, but certainly not here. The practical question is, How are we to meet these assaults, and what is the best way to repel them?

An old writer has said that the best way to meet temptations is to deal with them as one does with dogs which run out to bark at passengers—walk straight on, and take no notice of them. This is, in many cases, a good rule. Ignore the tempter altogether. Hold no parley with him, but go straight on with whatever you are doing. He will grow tired after a while, and let you alone. But if you must needs fight him—and one cannot always escape the contest—be sure to use the weapons your great Captain has put into your hands, and no other. Take the shield of faith. Repel every doubt with an "I believe" and an "I know." Be sure you are familiar with your sword, which is the Word of God. Above all, never for one moment give up the contest. The Seneca Indians have the correct theory on this subject. They hold that no evil spirit or demon can hurt a man while he fights it, and does not give way to fear; but that if he does so give way, it is all over with him. All the powers of darkness combined cannot drag the weakest disciple from his Saviour's arms so long as the will holds fast to its Lord. Remember this, and show yourselves men.

Remember, too, that there is a sure refuge always at hand, always open, always strong to save. In old times, he who fled for refuge to the altar of the church or temple was safe from his foe. So now, that persecuted saint who takes refuge in the presence of God is in "a little sanctuary." "In the time of trouble He shall hide me in His tabernacle; yea, in the secret place of His dwelling shall He hide me." (Ps. xxvii. 5.) "He shall defend thee under His wings, and thou shalt be safe under His feathers." (Ps. xci. 4.) Safe in that sanctuary, and hidden under those wings, we may bid defiance to Satan and all his crew. The Lord shall fight for us, and we shall hold our peace. (Ex. xiv. 14.)

Let us, then, go boldly forward in the race set before us; watchful indeed and wary, but trusting in the power and love of our Captain, who knows our temptations and trials far better than we ourselves. "In that He Himself hath suffered being tempted, He is able to succor them that are tempted." (Heb. ii. 18.) Let us cultivate sense of God's Presence. Believe me, it is a thing to be cultivated. "If God be for us, who can be against us?" His power is on our side so soon as our will is united to His will by faith and an honest intention.

Let us always remember, for our comfort, that temptations are not sins, else would our Lord not have been without sin. It is only when our wills consent to them that they become so. "You cannot keep those birds from flying over your head," said John Wesley to a young disciple who asked for counsel on this subject, "but you can keep them from making nests in your hair.", But never, "never" play or trifle with temptation. Never willfully put yourself in its way. When you do, you give Satan an advantage of which he is not slow to avail himself. It is a story told by some author of antiquity that the devil once entered into a young Christian woman who was present at a show of gladiators. Being summoned to leave her, he refused, declaring that he had found her on his ground, and she was therefore his lawful prey. We may face all the hosts of hell when our Lord's business makes it needful, and we may be sure that in doing so we have the Lord on our side; but if we cross willfully the line between right and wrong in the pursuit of pleasure or business, we have no right to think that God's presence will go with us there. Nay, we should be careful not to approach that line too closely. In time of war, the safe place is not near the front, and above all not on the neutral ground between the armies. There we shall probably be treated as the enemy of both sides. Let our abiding be on the everlasting hills of God's truth and law, where His sun always shines, and where no foe can ever come.

Ps. xci. 1 Peter v.

FOURTH SATURDAY IN LENT.

HEARTINESS.

IN the collect which we have been considering, we find an old-fashioned word which means a great deal. We ask God to look upon our "hearty" desires. A hearty desire is one into which we put our whole heart. There may be many things which we would like well enough to have for our own. There are many wishes which we should be pleased to have gratified. But, after all, we do not care enough about them to make any special effort in the matter. But when we heartily desire a thing, we work for it. We take every means to bring about the gratification of our wish, and we do not easily give up and sit down contented without it.

It is so in religious matters. A careless or worldly man may have at times an uneasy feeling that all is not right with him. He hears a rousing sermon perhaps. Some friend or acquaintance dies suddenly, and he wonders how he would fare if the same fate should overtake himself. He thinks he really will take time to consider the matter at some future day when he shall not be so busy. He even tries to pray a little, though he does not know well how to set about it. But his heart is not in the matter, and the impression soon passes away, leaving the man in a worse case than before; for, be it observed, nothing hardens the heart like a stifled conviction.

It is to be feared that this half-heartedness is the true reason why so many prayers are unanswered, and why so many professed disciples of our Lord have so little comfort in their religion, and do so little credit to their profession. They are half-hearted. They have no earnestness in the matter, and would even think such earnestness out of place, and fanatical. They can show and feel enough of enthusiasm on the subject of a business enterprise, a game of baseball, a new fashion, a new opera-singer; but speak to such an one of enthusiasm in religious matters, and he will look at you in amazement, and think you a little cracked. He professes to believe all the articles of the Christian faith, and bows his head in the creed with all propriety—in church; but talk to him of Heaven and Hell, of the love of God, and the judgments of God as present realities, and you make him uncomfortable. He becomes conscious of his own deficiencies, and the feeling is not agreeable. He will get away as soon he can, and probably call you a Methodist behind your back, if he does not do so to your face.

This half-heartedness is a fatal hindrance to growth in grace. I fear many pray for holy hearts, who would, after all, be sorry to have them. A man prays for grace to cast away the works of darkness, but there are, perhaps, certain works of darkness which are profitable in a business point of view, and he has no desire to cast them away. A woman asks that she may perceive and know what things she ought to do, but she is conscious of certain duties half hidden in the background of her mind and conscience, on which she does not care to be enlightened, because the fulfilling of them would be inconvenient. She prays for grace to withstand the world, but she does not really wish to withstand it, because she loves some of its gifts, and does not mean to throw them away. So people go on, trying to serve two masters, to please God and themselves, and getting no real satisfaction from either. They wonder what those mean who talk of the blessedness of service, of communion with God, of comfort in affliction, and the like, and are tempted to regard all such utterances either as fanaticism or pretence, because there is nothing in their own experience to correspond with them.

Is it any wonder that such prayers are not answered, and that such service is not blessed? Would you like it yourself in a child or servant? Surely not.

Let me beg of you, dear fellow-servant of our blessed Master, to examine yourself in this matter, and see if you do not find therein the reason why you have no more comfort in your religion; no more peace and joy and readiness to work for Him who has wrought such great things for us. Is the sign of the cross still on your forehead, or have the kisses of the world worn it away? Do you really and truly "love" God as you love your husband or children, if you have them? Are you ready to sacrifice anything for Him? Suppose that He should offer to release you at this moment from every sin, would you be willing to have Him do it?

This whole-hearted service no doubt has its trials. Our Lord Himself has told us that. "All that would live godly in Jesus Christ shall suffer persecution." (2 Tim. iii. 12.) "If they have called the master of the house Beelzebub, how much more shall they call them of His household?" (St. Matt. x. 25.) You cannot be faithful to the great King without offending His enemies. You cannot really renounce the world without angering the world. You may not have to meet with such persecutions as the early disciples did, but you will probably be called peculiar, affected, Methodistical. But fear nothing. You may, and probably will, meet with even more serious assaults. Satan will rage when he sees you in earnest, and try his best to bar your path, or win you away from it. But again I say, never fear. The Lord is on your side, and will stretch out His right hand to be your defense. He will feed you with the hidden manna, and give you to drink of the water of Life freely. You shall receive the mystical gift; the white stone wherein is a name written, which no man knoweth saving he that receiveth it. (Rev. ii. 17.) Passing through the valley of misery, you shall use it for a well. The wilderness of this world shall blossom as the rose, and the thorny road lead you surely to the city of the great King.

Isa. xii. Rev. ii.

FOURTH SUNDAY IN LENT.

REFRESHMENT.

MID-LENT Sunday is also called Refreshment Sunday—a very old name, probably given with reference to the subject of the Gospel for the day, which is the feeding of the five thousand on the lake of Galilee. Dr. Gouldburn, in his invaluable book on the collects, has shown the connection between the collect, Epistle, and Gospel for the day, all of which are full of matter for reflection. Let us for the present confine our attention to the Gospel, and try, by reverent consideration, to make real to ourselves this wonderful miracle of our Lord's, and see what lesson it has for us.

It had been a time of special activity for our Lord and His more immediate followers. The apostles had just returned from their first preaching mission. Two by two, they had passed through the lands of Judah and Galilee, preaching the glad tidings of the Kingdom of Heaven, healing the sick, restoring the deaf and blind, and casting out evil spirits in the name of Jesus. I think of two homely, travel-stained men arriving at nightfall, perhaps, in some lonely little village, and asking the hospitality which was not at such a time likely to be denied them. There is nothing about them to distinguish them from any common wayfarers, as they partake of the plain fare set before them. But there is a cloud over the faces of the hosts. The elder son, the prop of their age, lies on a bed of sickness, and the physician has said that there is no release for him save by death. The guests rise and go to the bedside of the sufferer, who is perhaps hardly conscious of their presence, and one of them takes him by the hand.

"In the name of Jesus of Nazareth, I bid thee arise and walk."

In a moment the dull eyes brighten, the pale cheek flushes, the helpless limbs feel new life, and the young man rises, and throws aside the useless covering, a well man. The amazing news spreads from house to house, and soon the whole village is gathered to hear and see these wonderful strangers. A woman, weeping over her dead babe, hears the news, and thinks—

"Oh, had they but come before my child died!"

Then a strange ray of hope darts into her mind. The strangers have cured one as good as dead. May they perhaps waken the dead also? At all events, it will do no harm to ask them. She wraps herself in her veil, and goes forth bearing the little waxen corpse, and returns with her child safe and smiling in her arms.

Many such stories must the apostles have had to relate to their Master on their return; some tales, possibly, of rejection and scorn from those they would have blest.

But their meeting was destined to be interrupted by sad tidings. The disciples of John the Baptist had heard of the death of their leader, slain by the wiles of a vile woman. They had been permitted by Herod to pay the last sad duties to his body, and that done there was one thing more remaining to them. They "went and told Jesus." Where could they go, save to that wonderful Being to whom their own revered leader had borne witness, and whose forerunner he had always called himself? We are not told in what words He comforted them. But we know how He showed His consideration for their weariness. "Come ye apart into a desert place, and rest awhile." (S. Mark vi. 31.)

I have often thought, if I were to preach an Ash Wednesday sermon, I would choose these words for my text. It is the call which the Church addresses to her children on that day: "Come!" she says. "Come from the hurry of business, and the worse and more distracting hurry of pleasure. Leave your cares behind you for a time. Let the world take care of itself. It will do well enough without you, as it did before you were born, and will do after you are dead. Come into a desert place as yet unspoiled by man, and rest awhile."

We are apt to think of a desert as a barren and sandy waste, destitute of verdure or beauty; but this is not its usual meaning in the Bible. It simply denotes an uncultivated tract, often used as pasture, and covered with grass and flowers in the season. It was to such a place as this that Jesus now retired with the disciples; to the narrow green plain of El Batihah, as it is now called. It was a spot about six miles from Capernaum by sea, surrounded by high hills, and quite uninhabited. Here the weary band might hope for a season of quiet and refreshment.

But they were destined to be disappointed. The boat, retarded probably by contrary winds, seems to have made but slow progress, and when they did at last arrive, they found the ground occupied by an eager crowd, waiting for the healer, of whose powers they had already made proof.

Here was a disappointment indeed! But our Lord shewed no irritation at the failure of His plan. He "was moved with compassion toward them, because they were as sheep not having a shepherd; and He began to teach them many things" (St. John vi. 34), and He also healed their sick.

Here is at once a practical lesson to be learned from our Lord's conduct—I mean that of patience under interruption and disappointment. We make a plan, for some good enterprise probably, and straightway that plan becomes, as it were, something sacred in our eyes, and we are not only grieved, but vexed, if anything happens to hinder us. We feel in our secret souls, if we do not venture to say so, that we are hardly treated, and we are ready to say, nay, perhaps we do say, that we will never undertake any such thing again.

In truth, there are interruptions which it is hard to bear with patience; for instance, the way in which idle people take up the time of busy people with the veriest trifles.

Yet all these things are part of our life's trials, and must be met in the right spirit, and turned to some account. In respect to our plans, the right way, it seems to me, is to sit loosely to them, with a reference in all things to a Will higher than ours. "If the Lord will, we shall do this or that." (St. James iv. 15.) If He takes us away from one piece of work, it may be because He has something better or more important for us to do; or that His wisdom sees that this particular work is better left undone. If your plan has been made with due regard to His glory, depend upon it He will not suffer it to fail utterly.

With regard to those interruptions from idle people of which I have spoken, we may be able to turn even them to account. We may try to give the conversation a serious and profitable turn. We may have a chance of defending the absent or the calumniated, or of recommending some good work. At worst we can let patience have her perfect work, and thus grow more like that Master whom it is at once our most important work and our dearest wish to imitate.

Ex. xvii. St. John vi. 1-21.

FOURTH MONDAY IN LENT.

REFRESHMENT SUNDAY—Continued.

ALL day long our Lord was engaged in teaching the people, and in healing their sick. The fact that he did so teach this great multitude of common people, and that they heard Him gladly, as we know they did (St. Mark xii. 37), is surely a sufficient answer to those who talk about the danger of giving the Scriptures to the unlearned. Meantime the disciples no doubt were reposing as they shared in their Lord's instructions, and witnessed His miracles. But as the afternoon of that long spring day drew on to its close they began to be uneasy. They looked abroad over the vast multitude thronging the plain, and wondered how they were to be fed and lodged, "for divers of them came from afar," and there were women and children among them, some of whom, no doubt, had just been cured of severe illness. We can see them consulting together with anxious faces, and many a troubled glance at the Master, and at last they venture to remind Him of the lateness of the hour, and the loneliness of the place where they were. "This is a desert place and the time is far spent; send them away, that they may buy food." (St. Mark vi. 36.) But the Lord had his own purposes to fulfill, and he answered them tranquilly, "They need not depart; give ye them to eat;" and then, as if their astonishment were not enough at such a proposition under such circumstances, He turns to Philip with the question, "Whence shall we buy bread, that these may eat?"

Philip must have been indeed amazed at the question. Buy bread for that great crowd of people! True, there was a market not so very far away, in the little city of Bethsaida Julius, but it might be doubtful whether so small a place could furnish the requisite quantity of bread, even if they had the means to pay for it. "Two hundred pennyworth is not sufficient for them, that every one of them might take a little;" and one of the number asks, "Shall we go and buy bread?"

Andrew, whose natural disposition seems to have been of that helpful sort which always moves the owner thereof to do something practical, here makes a suggestion. While others had been talking he had been investigating the resources at hand, and he now comes forward leading a little boy, and announces the result of his inquiries. "There is a lad here who has five barley loaves and two small fishes." (St. John vi. 9.) With what amazed looks his fellow-disciples must have regarded him! Only five loaves and two fishes! He himself was conscious of the seeming absurdity, for he added immediately, "What are they among so many?" What, indeed! Hardly enough for two, and here were thousands.

But as the disciples regarded our Lord's face they must have been in some measure reassured. There was no embarrassment or uncertainty to be read there. He Himself knew what He would do, as His next words showed them: "Make the men sit down." Here, at least, was a plain, practical command, and cheerfully they hastened to obey.

In all our perplexities and puzzles we can usually find something to do at once, and that something leads to something else, till by degrees the way is made plain before us. The old Saxon motto, "Do the next thing," is the guide out of many a difficulty. "How are we ever to fill this box?" said one of the officers of a certain missionary auxiliary; "we have only money enough to buy half a dozen towels." "Very well, let us buy the towels," was the answer; "by the time they are hemmed we shall have more." And so it proved; and a better box never gladdened a hard-working woman than was sent to that faithful teacher.

A poor woman in England once gave a few shillings, the result of long saving, to purchase some Bibles for the poor; and out of that gift grew one of the great Bible societies which supply the Scriptures to hundreds of thousands. A few serious words, kindly spoken to a wild young man in a diligence, gave to the Moravian Church one of the most successful missionaries that ever lived. Let us use what we have. It may be not so much as the little lad brought in his basket, but the Master will accept it and use it; whether it be to the feeding of one or ten thousand does not signify, so it is to His service. Let us take the first step in obedience to His command, and the next step will be made plain. It may be but a short one, but it will be so much in advance. Like the pilgrim in the valley of the shadow of death, when we lift up our foot to go forward, we may not know where, or upon what we may set it next; but be sure the solid ground will be there to meet it, so long as we are in the way of the Celestial City.

1 Kings xvii. Acts xvii. 16.

FOURTH TUESDAY IN LENT.

REFRESHMENT SUNDAY—Continued.

"NOW there was much grass in the place." So the men sat down in orderly ranks or companies—an arrangement made by our Lord's own command, that they might be the more easily waited upon. The word used by St. Mark signifies parterres, or the orderly arrangement of the plants in a vineyard or garden, and the assembly, dressed in the gay colors which Orientals affect, must have looked somewhat like a great flower-garden. Doubtless, all faces were eagerly turned toward our Lord, as the people wondered what was coming next. The disciples gathered round their Master, amazed, no doubt, but ready to obey His order, whatever it might be and near Him, perhaps, stood the little lad who had brought the provision, his eyes fixed on that face which ever had an attraction for children. Jesus took in His hands the cakes of barley bread, "and when He had given thanks, He brake them, and began to distribute them to the disciples, and they to the people, and likewise of the fishes, as much as they would." (St. John vi. 11.) The original words seem to show that the provisions were multiplied in our Lord's hands. Here was a sudden end of all their perplexities. Here was enough and to spare, of palatable and wholesome food.

It must have been with glad hearts, that the twelve, aided, no doubt, by the disciples of John, passed around among the people bearing the unexpected refreshment. Doubtless the multitude shared in their joy for many of them were far from their homes; and the prospect of returning hungry, or possibly of spending the night supperless in the open air, could not have been very agreeable. It is no great wonder, perhaps, that as they partook of His bounty, the old idea of making the Lord a temporal ruler should have recurred to their minds. Surely one who could so wonderfully provide for his followers would have no difficulty in defying the power even of the Romans. It was long before the Lord's immediate and trusted disciples realized the fact that His kingdom was not of this world.

But the people had eaten all they needed. What next? The next command must also have somewhat surprised both the disciples and the people. "Gather up the fragments, that nothing be lost." Why this exact economy on the part of one who could, as they had just seen, produce food at will? However, the disciples obeyed without a question, and soon they had filled twelve of the satchels, which all strict Jews carried when on a journey (to protect their food from ceremonial uncleanness), with the fragments which remained of the loaves and fishes. And now their work was for the present finished. Jesus would be alone for a time; and he dismissed His immediate followers to go to the other side of the lake, while He Himself sent the multitude away. The disciples seemed to have been somewhat unwilling to leave their Lord alone, but His will was law, and they betook themselves to the boat which had brought them hither.

When the multitude had at last departed, doubtless with many a lingering look behind, He who had so cheerfully given up His own plan of rest and retirement for the sake of teaching and feeding them, departed into a mountain to pray. At last He was alone; and how grateful to His weary senses must have been the solemn quiet and dewy freshness of that mountain solitude! How dear to His heart the opportunity of holding undisturbed communion with His Father! Dear tired mother or teacher, or busy housekeeper, are your senses also weary and your nerves unstrung with perpetual din? Do you, too, long for solitude and silence? Remember that the Lord has been before you in this trial also. The most of His active life was passed in a crowd, almost always careless and unsympathizing, often captious and hostile; and His hours of devotion must be stolen from needed sleep.

"Each pang from irritation, turmoil, din,—"

is known to Him, and He will give needed help and relief.

Our Lord gave thanks before He distributed the bread to the disciples. This was an universal custom among the Jews, and the Lord has approved it by His example. "He who enjoys anything without a blessing, robs God," says the Talmud. Yet how many Christian families are there in which grace before meat is never heard. It looks a little, indeed, as if family religion, of any sort, were to become a thing of the past. The father hastens to his business, and the children to their school, without one word of recognition for the mercies of the night; without a single petition for help and guidance through the day. The father is, or should be, the priest of his own household, to offer up their spiritual sacrifices; but how many never think of doing so! He should be their instructor in divine things; but how many never open the Bible with their children! The boys see their father busy till the last stroke of the church bell with his Sunday papers; they see the same papers or a novel taken up on his return. Is it any wonder that they come to think religion a matter of secondary importance? Is it any wonder that they think it fit only for women, since they see its outward observance left wholly to them? Oh, how many thorns are these negligent, indifferent Christian fathers and mothers cultivating for their own pillows! It is true that a boy or girl may turn out badly, however much pains has been taken with the religious training, because in this world all must make the choice between good and evil for themselves; but at least the careful, conscientious parent has not the added bitter pang of thinking "my neglect, my selfish indulgence, has made the child what he is."

"Gather up the fragments," said our Lord. He could create at will enough to feed five thousand, yet He would not have the remainder lost. With what displeasure must He not look on the lavish wastefulness of His children. Some man takes a good religious paper, or more than one. Perhaps he finds time to glance at them, perhaps not. The expenditure of a cent a week, or the sending of a child or servant, would carry that paper to some poor man or woman—perhaps to some one shut up with illness—who would be only too glad to read it. But no one thinks of that, and what might give aid and comfort to God's afflicted or hard-worked child goes to the ragman. The partly worn hose or flannel garment share the same fate, when a little of the time given to some useless bit of fancy work would make them fit to bestow on some poor body, or to help out a hospital box. I knew a lady with a family of sons. When their socks or underwear were thrown aside, she had them carefully mended and put away in a special place; and many a poor hard-working woman was helped out of Mrs. Z.'s "give-away drawer." We have no right to waste, because all that we have, whether of time or goods or talent, is not ours, but our Lord's. We are but His stewards, and it is required of stewards that a man be found faithful.

Prov. xxxi. St. Luke xiv.

FIFTH WEDNESDAY IN LENT.

COMFORT.

A CERTAIN writer has said that there is no more beautiful word in the language than the word "comfort." Certainly there is none which carries with it more meanings, or one which it is harder to define. Rest from weariness, freedom from pain, security from danger, all these are comprised in the word "comfort." But these are, after all, but negative, and there is a positive side. The word often means consolation. "As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you," is God's promise to His people. (Isa. lxvi. 13.) Think of a little child waking in the dark, from some dream of terror. The darkness is all around him, with its possibilities of danger. Who knows what it may hide in those dark corners, behind those dimly seen, waving curtains? He can feel no one near him. To his excited fancy it seems as if he were alone in the universe, and he cries out in fear and anguish. But in a moment a tender arm is laid over him, a warm kiss reassures him, a well-known voice speaks his name, and he sinks to sleep again, sure that no evil thing can harm him, because his mother is there to be his defense.

So it often is with the Christian. He walks in the midst of trouble. Darkness is around and within. His purposes are broken off; his plans even for his Master's service are frustrated, and, what seems to make his trouble worst of all, he is hampered by indifference, if not by open hostility on the part of fellow-Christians and fellow-church-members. He says to himself, with David, "It is not an enemy that hath done me this dishonor; but it was even thou, my companion, my guide, and mine own familiar friend." He feels almost as if His Lord Himself had forgotten him, and he is ready to sit down in despair.

But by and by a ray of light falls athwart the darkness. It is the hour for his regular devotion, and he will not neglect it. His heart feels cold and dead, if not absolutely rebellious, but at least he can obey, and he takes up his Bible or his prayer-book, opens perhaps to the thirty-seventh Psalm, or some other like it.

He reads precious promises of help and protection, and deliverance from trouble, such as these. "Commit thy way unto the Lord, and put thy trust in Him, and He shall bring it to pass. He shall make thy righteousness as clear as the light and thy just dealing as the noon-day." (Ps. xxxvii. 5.) He is made to see that he is but tasting the edge, as it were, of that cup which his Master drained to the dregs for him. He feels that God has not forsaken him, and he is by and by able to say, "In the multitude of the sorrows that I had in my heart, Thy comforts have refreshed my soul." The assurance comes to him that the Lord will use all to His own glory and the good of His servant, and he is content to tarry the Lord's leisure.

Or take another case. The Christian is made aware that he has fallen into sin. He has spoken unadvisedly with his lips perhaps, and fears that his words may do great harm. He has given way to unjust or excessive anger, or he has been led into some worldly compliance which he now sees to have been wrong. Or, worse still, he has suddenly awakened to the fact that he has for a long time been declining in godliness, that he has been living for the world and not for his Master. He has gone out of the way into By-path meadow, and the road, which at first seemed to run close to the highway, has turned aside till he has come at least within sight of the dwelling of Giant Despair. Satan is not slow to take advantage of his fall. He tells the sinner that it is plain to be seen that he never was a true disciple. Could one who had really tasted of the grace of God so dishonor his profession? Or if he were once a child of God, is it not as plain as day that he is so no longer? Has he not come too far out of the way ever to find his path back? Will he be received even if he should return? Is this the return he has made to God for all his benefits, and can such black ingratitude ever be forgiven? Such suggestions as these drive the sinner almost to desperation. Almost, but not quite. His very agony and distress teach him how precious was that Lord from whom he has turned away, and he will not give him up without a struggle at least.

But he is not left to struggle alone. God has not forgotten His child, though that child may for a time have forgotten Him. He may leave him, or seem to leave him, to suffer for a time the penalty of his sins; for as many as the Lord loves, He rebukes and chastises. But let the sinner once accept the punishment of his iniquity (Lev. xxvi. 41); let him acknowledge that he is justly punished for his offenses, as says the collect for the day, and light begins to dawn on the night of despair. He, too, opens his Bible, and he reads such words as these, "Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow." (Isa. i. 18) "If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." (1 John i. 9.) "Him that cometh unto Me, I will in no wise cast out." (St. John vi. 37.) And so he casts himself at the feet of his crucified Lord, humbly bewailing his sinfulness, and asking pardon for the sake of that very love that he has outraged and grieved. Humbly he believes his prayer is accepted, trusting in God's unchanging promise, though he has for the present no evidence in his own feelings that his sins are pardoned. By and by the light grows clearer. He hears within a sweet voice, sweeter than any music of earth, whisper such precious words as these: "I, even I, am He that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins." (Isa. xliii. 25.) Then the Sun of righteousness riseth on His soul with healing in His wings, and it is day.

Ps. xxxii. St. John xvii.

FIFTH THURSDAY IN LENT.

THE SOURCES OF COMFORT.

THE first source of comfort to the disciple in distress is his general confidence in the goodness of his Lord. "Comfort them with a sense of Thy goodness!" asks the collect for the sick and the afflicted in the prayer-book; and there is not in that whole wonderful volume a sentence more full of meaning. "My Father is all-wise, therefore He cannot make a mistake; He is perfectly holy, therefore He cannot do an unjust thing; He is perfect love, therefore He will never do a cruel thing; and He sees and cares for me as much as if I were the only child for whom He had to care." Thoughts like these come to the pilgrim, bowed down by the burden and heat of the day; and they give him courage to take up his load and struggle on toward that rest which remains for the people of God—that mansion prepared for him, and whose roofs and towers his faith sees above the clouds, gleaming in Heaven's own sunshine. To souls like this it does indeed come to pass that, going through the valley of misery, they use it for a well, and the pools are filled with water. "Their light affliction, which is for a moment, worketh for them a far more exceeding weight of glory," because "they look not at the things which are seen, but at those things which are unseen and eternal." (2 Cor. iv. 17.)

The second source of comfort to the Christian which we shall consider is the written word of God. "In the Lord's word will I comfort me." (Ps. lvi. 10.) Here is the sure holding-ground for the anchor of faith. Our feelings are the sport of every wind that blows, but the written word remains, and remains ever the same. The stricken woman whose prop and stay has been taken away, perhaps in a moment, and who knows not where to turn for help, may read in that Word that God is the God of the fatherless, and defendeth the cause of the widow. (Ps. lxviii. 5.) The invalid, wearied out with the life-long pain, which has become such an old story that people no longer think of asking about it, who feels faith ready to fail, and courage to give way under the load, to such an one comes the message, "My grace is sufficient for thee, for my strength is made perfect in weakness." (2 Cor. xii. 9.) The aged saint bowed beneath the burden of years, perhaps with no child or near friend to support his weakness and bear with his infirmities, prays, "Forsake me not when I am gray-headed" (Ps. lxxi. 16), and the Word which supplies the prayer answers it with a corresponding promise, "Even to your old age I am He; and even to hoary hairs will I carry you." (Is. xlvi. 4.) The repentant, all but despairing sinner, is told by that very righteous and holy God whom he hath so grievously offended, "I, even I, am He that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins." (Is. xliv. 22.) And again, "The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all sin." (1 John i. 7.) The backslider reads, "I will heal their backslidings; I will love them freely." (Hosea xiv. 4.) And to the child of God, striving in meekness and faithfulness to follow in the steps of his Lord and Master, and to do his commonplace, every task for Him, the words of cheer and strength are not to be counted.

The worship and ordinances of the Church are perennial springs of help and cheer to the Christian. I appeal to your experience, faithful fellow-disciples. How many times, when it has perhaps been a great effort to go to church, has not the very stillness of the place fallen like balm on your tired nerves, so that your few minutes of mental prayer have made you able to realize that you are indeed in the presence of Him who has said, "When two or three are gathered together, there am I in the midst of them"! (Matt. xviii. 20.) How often has the Psalter or the lesson contained the very words you needed! How often has the sermon or address been just what you wanted, and the whole service sent you home strengthened and cheerful to take up the burden of the week or the day! Then there is the crown of all our services—the Holy Communion. We "do not feel like going," perhaps. We have had but little time for preparation. There has been much in the week to harass and perplex us. Perhaps some slip or fall has clouded our experience, and burdened our conscience. But we know our duty, and at least we can obey. We carry our burden, whatever it may be, into the presence of the symbols of our Lord's dying love; perhaps to the very altar rail; but when we rise from our knees, we find we have left it there.

Isa. lxv. 2 Cor. 1.

FIFTH FRIDAY IN LENT.

THE GREAT CONSOLER.

"THE Comforter which is the Holy Ghost." The third Person of the ever-blessed Trinity does not disdain to take the title and office of our consoler, as well as that of our teacher and guide. He does not disdain to enter the lowest dwelling which is open to receive Him, nor to hold communion with the youngest and feeblest who seek His aid. It is He who opens our heart to understand the Scriptures, who directs us to the very word we need, who shows us, in some passage we have read a hundred times, a new meaning which we never saw before. It is He who inspires our prayers, and He, when our hearts are too burdened for words, makes intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered. (Rom. viii. 26.) How are we to obtain the help of this Divine Comforter? First, by asking for it. That is one of the prayers certain to be answered, whatever is refused. "If ye, then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more shall your Heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him"! (St. Luke xi. 18.) The very greatest gift of all is never refused to the poorest suppliant.

Then, when we have invited our guest, we must make our house ready to receive Him. We must open the door and be on the watch for Him. We must remember, too, that He will never share a divided throne. If we are entertaining any impure or unworthy guests—if we have set up any idols there—if there is within any chamber of imagery where we pay secret worship, as did the elders of Israel whom Ezekiel saw in his vision (Ezek. viii. 7), the guests must be turned out, the idols overthrown, the secret chamber opened to the light of God's day, before the Spirit of purity will make our heart His shrine. He Himself will purify His own temple if we consent thereto, but we must be willing, and we must have no reserves from Him.

Again, we must be willing to obey His godly motions, as the collect has it, and that with a prompt and willing obedience. This is not always easy or agreeable. One of His offices is to convince of sin, of righteousness, and of judgment to come. He does not always prophecy smooth things, by any means, nor does he always apply sweet balms. On the contrary, He is a kind but stern surgeon, who wounds to heal, and gives bitter tonics instead of soothing syrups. It is not altogether pleasant to be told that some favorite habit is a sinful indulgence; that some yielding to the customs of society is conformity to the world; some laxity of doctrine, on which we have perhaps prided ourselves as showing our liberality, is a cowardly surrender of God's truth. Nevertheless must the Heavenly monitor be obeyed, and that promptly. Otherwise His voice will grow fainter and fainter and fainter, till it ceases to be heard at all. Nay, it is possible to drive away the Heavenly visitor altogether, and then woe unto us. We had better lose every earthly friend than to be forsaken of the Holy Spirit.

It is to be feared that many Christians do not realize as they ought the blessed fact of the real literal indwelling of the Holy Ghost. They read in the Bible such words as these: "He dwelleth with you, and shall be in you." (St. John xiv. 17.) "We have received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit which is of God." (1 Cor. ii. 12.) They feel as if it were a kind of presumption to take these promises to themselves—as if the real presumption did not lie in doubting, instead of believing God's word. They read such words as these: "The spirit itself beareth witness with our spirits that we are the children of God." (Rom. viii. 16.) Yet they feel no assurance of their adoption, but go through life, as it were, with a rope round their necks instead of walking freely as God's children should, for "where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty." (1 Cor. iii. 17.)

But some one says: "I should be only too glad to obtain this blessed assurance of salvation, but I do not know how. What is the way?" The way is as plain as are all God's ways in things of practical importance to us. You have but to put out your hand and take what is freely offered you.

A vessel sailing to Brazil once saw a barque flying a signal of distress, and bearing down on her, asked what was the matter. "For God's sake, give us water! we have not had a drop for three days," was the cry from the distressed vessel. The answer was instant. "Let down your bucket and draw it up, man! You are in the mouth of the Amazon." These poor creatures had been dying of thirst for three days, though they were sailing on the greatest stream of fresh water in the world, because they had lost their reckoning and did not know where they were. So it too often is with the disciple. He walks in the midst of unnumbered blessings. The stream of living water flows at his side; the tree of Life grows beside it; yet he is hungry and thirsty, just because he will not take the things which are freely offered of God. "If ye will not believe, surely ye shall not be established." (Isa. vii. 9.)

Ps. lxiii. Gal. v.

FIFTH SATURDAY IN LENT.

THE USE OF COMFORT.

"SURELY there can be no question about that!" I hear some one say.

"The use of comfort is to make people comfortable." That is one use, no doubt, but not the only nor the principal one. It is to be feared, however, that many sincerely devout people take this view of the matter. In spiritual as in worldly matters we are prone to think far too much of our own enjoyment. Some good people, indeed, measure their spiritual condition by their enjoyment. If they are happy, they think all is well with them. This is not always a safe test. We may be glorying in a very mistaken estimate of our own spiritual condition, as did the Corinthian Church, when St. Paul wrote them. "Your glorying is not good." They were mightily puffed up in their own esteem, while they were tolerating among them the vilest sins, such as even the idolatrous Gentiles were ashamed of. (1 Cor. v. 1-8.)

The use of comfort is to strengthen us for the work which God gives us to do. "The God of all comfort comforteth us in all our tribulation," writes St. Paul; and why? "That we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God." (2 Cor. i. 3, 4.) We are comforted that we may be able to console others, just as we are taught in order that we may teach others.

Dear fellow-sufferer, if in your sick-room your Lord has sent you a blessing, cannot you contrive to send that blessing on to some other sufferer? He has sent you, let us say, a cheering message by a book or paper. Can you not pass it on to some one else? He has given you a cheering thought. Can you not give a friend or attendant the benefit of it? Some one brings you a pattern for embroidery or knitting. It will do you all the more good if you use it to make a Christmas gift for some other invalid who does not enjoy as many pretty things as yourself. A lady of my acquaintance once received from a wealthy and generous friend a box of very fine forced strawberries. She sent a part of them to an old lady in a charitable institution, whose failing appetite could hardly be tempted to take food at all. The sight of a dish of strawberries in March was such a wonder that it led her to eat quite a good meal; and a year afterwards she spoke with delight of "those beautiful berries your mother sent me." I mention this as a specimen of the way a kindness may be passed on. I believe that act of thoughtful kindness prolonged for several years a useful life.

There are those who carry an atmosphere of comfort with them wherever they go. They may not be very brilliant or very accomplished, but every one is glad to see them. They have something pleasant to say. Such a person does not tell a rheumatic patient of her grandmother who was unable to feed herself for years, or suggest to one suffering from a surgical operation that people in such circumstances almost always go into a decline. (I have known of these very things being done more than once.) I once suffered for several months from the effects of a cat's bite, and I suppose that more than half the people to whom the story was told said, "I should think you would be afraid of hydrophobia!" With a nervous or apprehensive person the effect might have been serious. Oh how many heartaches and tears would be saved to invalids, if those who visit them would try to think of something pleasant and cheering to say!

God sends us comfort, not that we may sit down and selfishly, enjoy it, but that we may be strengthened for the work which is still before us, whether that work be active doing, or patient suffering, or quietly waiting on His will. Comfort is not an end, but a means, and it is much more likely to last if we use it in this way, than if we sit idly down to enjoy it. The Lord gives to all his children blessed seasons of rest and enjoyment. As the twenty-third Psalm says, He makes them to lie down in green pastures, and feedeth them by still waters. But He does not always keep us there. He sets before them many a hill to climb, many a dark valley to pass through, before we reach the land of Beulah, and the Celestial city. But the Holy Ghost, which is the comforter, will always abide with us, and we can truly say "In the multitude of sorrows which I had in my heart, Thy comforts have refreshed my soul." (Ps. xciv. 19.)

Ps. xxxvii. Heb. xii.

FIFTH SUNDAY IN LENT.

THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD.

IT has been said, and I think truly, that almost any government is better than none. A good government is an unspeakable blessing—not always appreciated, I fear, by those who have never lived under any other. Think for a moment what it is to dwell under a rule where every one's rights are safe; where no one can be punished, except openly, and by due process of law; where every poor man's house is his castle; where, amid the excitement of a hotly contested election, women and children walk the streets in absolute safety: and then contrast this state of things with one in which no man, great or small, feels himself secure; where any man or woman may be torn from home and friends and thrown into prison or sent into life-long exile, with no chance of redress, and knowing that the nearest and dearest friends are utterly ignorant of the fate of husband or wife, father or mother. It seems to me a pity that those who complain so bitterly of the few abuses of a good and free government, should not for a little while try the tender mercies of a bad one.

The best government, however, being as it is the work of man, is liable to imperfection in its constitution, or abuse in its administration. How happy, then, is he who lives under a ruler who can and will do no wrong. Such a ruler is the Lord our Governor. The best of earthly governments can only legislate for classes, and even beneficent laws often bear hardly on individuals; but God's rule is that of a father, who sees in each person not only a subject, but a child; who knows the needs of each one better than himself, and who grudges His children no innocent pleasure. Is it any wonder that the Church teaches us to pray for the rule of such a sovereign as a blessing?

In translating this collect from the Latin original, the reformers have substituted the words "Thy people" for "Thy family," thinking, probably, that the word corresponded better with the idea of government. But, after all, a family needs a stable and just government as much as a state, and it is as a family that the Lord rules his people. The state lays down an inflexible rule, to which every citizen is expected to conform; but a wise parent does not act in this way. She studies the disposition of each child, and has a different system for each one, corresponding to its temperament and needs. So it is with God's government. To Him there are no "masses." He does not drive His flock like a mercenary drover, but "He calleth His own sheep by name and leadeth them out." (St. John x. 3.) He is to each one what He is to no other. "To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the hidden manna, and will give him a white stone, and in the stone a new name written, which no man knoweth saving he that receiveth it." (Rev. ii. 17.)

The state punishes offenses against the laws with rigid severity, and very rightly. The security of the honest citizen demands such action. But it has no thanks and no praise for the obedient and loyal subject. He has but done what was expected of him. The loyal subject of God's government, on the contrary, has the satisfaction of knowing that his ruler sees his obedience, and is gratified with it. Like Enoch, he has this testimony, that he has pleased God. God notes the first effort of a little child as well as the crowning sacrifice of an Abraham, and rewards the poor negro Sunday-school teacher, trying in imperfect English to tell the little he knows about God and the Bible to some one more ignorant than himself, as He does a St. Paul preaching to the polished Athenians on Mars Hill. Surely there must be, to the believer, wonderful joy and strength in the thought that what he does gives pleas—to his Heavenly Father.

There is no escaping from the government of God. A man who is dissatisfied with the rule of the United States, or who by crime or misdemeanor has brought himself within reach of its penalties, may go and live somewhere else; but there is no getting out of this universe, which God rules in every corner. Neither can he escape by denying God's authority, or making light of His claims. The earthly commonwealth admits no such excuse; much less the Heavenly. The man may rebel furiously. He may wish that it were possible even to pull down the great Ruler from His throne. It makes no difference. He has no choice but to submit at last, but he "has" the choice as to whether his submission shall be that of the criminal on his way to the scaffold, or the glad obedience of the loving child who has full confidence in his father's justice and love.

Ps. xcvii. Phil. i.

FIFTH MONDAY IN LENT.

CÆSAR'S HOUSEHOLD.

THE Lord's government, as we have seen, is that of a parent, in that He legislates, not for masses, but for individuals; and His object, in all that He does and leaves undone, is to make His children better and in the long run happier. The views and plans of the wisest parent are necessarily bounded by a very limited horizon, but the Lord sees the lives of His children from their first beginning—not indeed to the end, for there is no end, but to the farthest reach of eternity—and He legislates for them in "the whole of their duration," as President Edwards has it. It is perhaps for this reason, speaking with reverence, that Christians often find themselves in about the last places they themselves would have chosen as likely to conduce to growth in grace. We are apt to fret at this, and to think we could do somewhere else. We think if we could only attend such and such a church, or live in some other place, or attend such and such classes, we could do so much better; and, very possibly, we neglect the work that God has given us for something which is not our work at all.

There is a passage in the Epistle to the Philippians which at first sight may appear to mean very little, but which seems to me very suggestive. St. Paul, writing from his prison at Rome to the church at Philippi, says, "All the saints salute you, chiefly they that are of Cæsar's household." (Phil. iv. 22.)

Surely this was a very strange place in which to look for saints—about the last place, humanly speaking, in which we should be likely to find them. The Cæsar was Nero—a name which has become a synonym for lust, cruelty, and rampant folly of every kind; and his court was just what we should expect the court of such an emperor to be. It was the very central resort of informers, men and women practiced in every namable and un-namable wickedness of that vile age. One would as soon have looked for the bliss of Paradise in the foulest Pool of Dante's hell, as for saints in such a household, especially when the profession of the Christian faith involved no little danger to liberty and life. The persecution of Christians had not at that time reached the height to which it attained afterwards; nevertheless, every Christian was looked upon with suspicion and contempt. Their great teacher and apostle was a prisoner, chained night and day to a soldier who watched him, and his imprisonment was more than likely to end in an ignominious death. Yet, in spite of these opposing circumstances, there were saints in Cæsar's household, and, it would seem, not a few.

It seems to me that we may all learn a good lesson from this short passage. We are so apt to lay our shortcomings to the account of circumstances, which is, in fact, laying them at the door of Providence. "If I were not so much engrossed in business," says John. "If I had not so many family cares," says Jane, "I might do some Church work." "There is no pleasure in going to church and Bible class here," says another. "If I only lived in the city! We cannot expect to do much in a place like this," I heard a Christian man say. "If we had a first-class preacher and a good quartette choir we might do something." As if the gift of the Holy Spirit depended on a fine preacher and a fine choir! But we do more than this: we lay upon circumstances the blame of our own heart sins. We should not be irritable and fretful, only that there is so much to annoy us. We should not make unkind remarks and tell scandalous stories about our neighbors, only that every one does so; and so on to the end of the chapter.

No Christian will deny, if asked the question out and out, that his Father in Heaven has ordered, or at the least permitted, the circumstances of his life. Say that we are placed in a country parish, where there is little or no enthusiasm for any good cause, and where most of the parishioners think they have done their duty nobly when they have helped to keep their pastor on the outside verge of starvation, instead of the inside. Well, He places us there because He has work for us there—some work which no one could do so well as you or I. Let us try to find out what that work is, and to do it faithfully. We shall grow in grace ourselves, and no one can do that without benefiting others.

Or He has put one of His chosen ones in a place where he has no Christian sympathy—perhaps among unbelievers and scoffers. Take courage. Bad as they may be, they are probably saints themselves, compared to the men and women with whom they of Cæsar's household were brought in daily contact. You may have good work to do among them. A little leaven leaveneth the whole lump. When the Rev. Mr. Lowder entered the district of St. Peter's, in the east of London, there were not a dozen Christian men in the parish. He was hooted and pelted in the street, and on one occasion a ring of his friends had to fight for his life against a howling mob of ruffians. Every other house was a house of ill-fame; when he died, after twenty-three years' service, there was not one such to be found in the parish; and by the streets where he had been stoned and all but murdered, he was carried to his burial through throngs of weeping men and women, hundreds of whom walked miles to see him laid in the grave.

A little leaven leaveneth the whole lump. But, then, the leaven must be living and warm. Frozen yeast is no good, as every housewife knows. "I got my father and mother to come to church last Sunday," said a dear little child with sparkling eyes. "It was so nice!" He had been laboring for that result for months. He would have been one of the saints in Cæsar's household. And I have no doubt that those saints found there, were of a pretty robust and earnest description. "They" would hardly have stayed away from the gathering in St. Paul's cabin on the first day of the week because they had not the latest fashion in gown or sandal, or even to hear the court poet recite his ode, or to learn the last news from Gaul or Britain. (2 Kings v.; 1 Peter ii.)

FIFTH TUESDAY IN LENT.

THE HOUSEHOLD OF GOD.

AS has been noticed before, the reformers, in translating this collect from the original Latin, saw fit to render the word that is to say, household or family, by "people," thinking probably that the word corresponded better to the idea of government. It is perhaps difficult to see the aptness of the change, since, as has been observed, a family certainly needs governing quite as much as a state.

In three other places is the Church of God spoken of as a family. In the collect for Good Friday we beseech God to behold "this His family." In that for the fifth Sunday after Epiphany, we ask Him "to keep His Church and household in His true religion;" and again, on the twenty-second Sunday after Trinity, we beg Him to keep His household, the Church, in continual godliness. The great Church catholic, then, is to be thought of, not only as God's kingdom, but as His family. It is under this latter aspect that I wish now to consider it.

A family is not "a fortuitous concourse of atoms." It consists of a number of members, either related by blood or united by a common purpose. Now the very idea of a member is that of a part of some organization differentiated or set apart for some office for which it is specially fitted by structure or position, or both. The very simplest living creature—the very germ cell from which the lowest seaweed is produced—has its parts so distinguished, and the higher we rise in the scale, the more striking are the differences. The family is an organism, and it follows that every member of the same has his own "vocation and ministry," which nobody can fulfill as well as himself. "The Lord has chosen him." (1 Chron. xxviii. 10.) He has appointed his place and set his task before him. Surely this is a great honor.

The great trouble is that the member thus appointed does not see his work, and he does not see it, for the most part, because he will not. Perhaps he thinks his appointed task too humble. He thinks it beneath his capacity. He is too often like a certain little girl who was set by her mother to watch that the bread did not run over, but who thought it would be much finer to run the sewing machine. The result may easily be imagined. A woman who wished to undertake some Church work was invited to begin by taking a class from the infant room. She declined, saying that she would feel herself to be throwing away her time teaching such ignorant little ones. She was allowed to try a class of grown-up girls. She soon found out her mistake. She complained that the girls were always asking questions and making remarks, and at last she threw up the work in disgust, and there was the end of her aspirations after Church work. If she could only have had something congenial, she said, it would have been different.

Another church-member was fired with enthusiasm on hearing an eloquent missionary sermon. She only wished that she could go out to Africa. That would, indeed, be worth while. But when it was suggested that she might give of an abundant wardrobe to help fill a missionary box, she rejected the idea with some tartness. She did not take so much pains with her things, to give them to a common negro preacher's wife!

There are several inconveniences resulting from this unwillingness or inability of the members of God's family to recognize and do their own work. One of them, and that not the least, is the loss to the member himself—a loss of opportunities of usefulness, and of growth in grace. The member which is never used in its appropriate office loses its vigor, and often becomes paralyzed beyond recovery. We have all heard of the East Indian devotees, who hold their hands above their heads till they grow into that position, and cannot be taken down; and I have somewhere read of a nun who never used her hands, but kept them clasped in the attitude of prayer till the joints became useless. We think such conduct a horrible misuse of God's gifts, and rightly; but we should do well to examine ourselves, lest we fall into the same error with respect to our spiritual faculties. But as a limb which has been partly paralyzed by misuse or disuse may often be restored by care and exercise, so no one need despair of regaining a good measure of usefulness, however faulty they may have been in the past.

Another trouble is that the uselessness of some members of the body throws additional work on the others. Everyone knows that when the skin refuses its office, the lungs and other bodily organs are overworked, and often become diseased in consequence. Think, for a moment, what would be the effect if the work of any ordinary parish were fairly divided among those who were able to do their share, though that share were ever so little. Suppose, for instance, that every woman who is able should lay by two cents a week for the women's auxiliary, and should devote one hour a week to working for it! Suppose that every man capable of teaching a class of boys should next Sunday offer to do so! Suppose every church-member who has not a valid excuse should be ready to undertake any piece of work pointed out by the rector! A venerable saint of God once remarked that there were in almost every church two classes of willing members—a small class who were willing to do all the work, and a large class who were willing they should. How would the labors of the first class be lightened if the second class would awake to their duty!