truth, must know that the word of his faith remains immutable for ever. Beautifully was it said, 'O LORD, Thy Word endureth for ever in Heaven, but the expositions of men are written upon the sea-shore, and are blotted out before the evening.' It needs no preacher's voice to tell us that the offence of the Cross has not ceased,—that what we read in the Holy Scriptures is acted over and over in the daily life of men even now. It is written of our LORD, that when He came into His own country they were offended in Him; and if it be our daily prayer that we may be made like Him, what visions rise before us? What but memories of the weary frame the revilings of the multitude-the desertion of friends-the Way of Sorrows ?"

The Priest spoke so solemnly, that Ion did not venture another remark; only Clement, who had begun to listen eagerly to the conversation, asked, with somewhat of an impatient abruptness, "Yet who can look passively on the errors around,-a neglected faith, an unheeded system, and a doubting people ?"

Mr. Bernard was silent for a moment, and Clement almost fancied that his complaint had fallen unnoticed on an inattentive ear, but at length he raised his head, and looking earnestly at him, said quietly, "The King's daughter is all glorious within; and it may be, therefore, that her beauty is not discerned by mortal eye. Clouds and darkness often hide from us the moon, and yet beyond she shines as pure as ever; and so, amidst the strife of earth and hell, amidst the assaults of heresy and schism,-of foes without, and lukewarm friends within, the Holy Church still goes on, calm and unmoved, on the Rock of Ages."

"But yet what a trial of faith, and what a lonely trial too!"

"Lonely, Clement! no, not lonely, with all the

blessed ones who throng round our trial-path, and have such an interest in the conflict of the meanest soldier of the Cross. But if GOD sees it fit, in His infinite wisdom, to deny us sympathy in this world, then we do wrong to seek it-to fancy that we must have it-that we cannot exist without it. He appoints us our trials, and if we seek to evade the burden of the Cross, we are leaving Him, and choosing our own way :

"Who hath the FATHER and the SON,

May be left, but not alone."

"And do you not think, sir," said Ion, "that even here, amongst our fellow-men, we have many to sympathise with us ?"

Undoubtedly; and many, too, whom we may never know, till we recognise them as brethren, if GOD grant it, among the white-robed throng of heaven. How many of those around us whose lives seem not far different from the generality of men, with nothing of superior holiness or piety to mark them as distinct, with no great talents,-no brilliant qualities, may yet be saints and martyrs in their daily life, bearing a daily cross, unseen, unknown, save to Him Who looks upon the heart."

Clement was silent, but the compressed lips softened as he listened, though he never raised his eyes from the ground. Ion had walked away to speak for a moment with little Willie, who had called him to the open window where he was lying, and Mr. Bernard, gently placing his hand on the young man's shoulder, said, kindly, "But youyou can have no want of sympathy ?"

Clement's dark eyes followed Ion instantly, with a brightening glance. "No, Mr. Bernard,' he said, warmly, "I can have no reason to complain of that want, when GOD has given me such a friend, but I am wickedly discontented very often,

and then I am tempted to question the possibility of being resigned to some trials. No rest, no peace, because, try as we may, we seem to be always falling, never advancing,-at least, I do."

"There are other things to be thought of, far beyond earthly rest or peace. Our life is a conflict, and there will be more amongst the saved, doubtless, whose baptismal robes will be stained with many a fall and many a wound, than those who will keep their hue unstained. And while we are thinking much of the success or failure of our work, we are doing little towards the performance of it, but rather seeking for certainty, when we ought to be schooling our own hearts, and practising obedience."

Clement only sighed. The Vicar's words had given rise to the question whether the failing to which he alluded were not especially his own fault, -always impatient of success-irritated by failure, because he could not at once free himself from errors of infirmity, for which, in his own proud esteem, he despised himself-more annoyed at yielding to faults of weakness or inconsistency of which he was so contemptuously observant in others, because they were weak, than because they were sinful.

Well might Mr. Bernard's remarks bring shame to him, as he reflected upon the far more arduous task which the Priest performed so humbly, when he knew how easily his own minor cares were a constant source of irritation-how little unity there was between his great intentions-his high and noble ambition-and his miserably failing actions. Patient, he could not be, yet often he would gladly have embraced a sterner rule of discipline; content he could not be, yet he would willingly have practised some greater self-denial. Confiding in lowly faith, without scorn of others, he could

not be, yet he was one of those characters who in other days would have sought solitude and the desert, although contempt for his fellow men would have sullied his devotions in the wilds of nature, and pride have been his evil spirit, even in a cell. And if so, how should he bear the cross of patient humility, who chafed with fretfulness at the petty cares of ordinary life? Of what avail was it to have high visions of saintliness and of glowing enthusiasm for unworldly self-sacrifice, if his daily life stamped his daily prayer, "Thy will be done," with the insincerity of mere lip-service?

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Vainly before the shrine he bends,

Who knows not the true pilgrim's part:
The martyr's cell no safety lends,

To him who wants the martyr's heart."

The Priest divined the nature of his companion's thoughts, and said, with the kindest earnestness, "When I speak of errors, Clement, I speak of that of which I myself feel guilty; and if I sometimes seem to speak sternly, it is because I bear a message from One Whose holy Will must not be unproclaimed, even though the voice that utters it falter with its own self-condemnation. Many a reproof addressed to others, must sound with tenfold bitterness in our own ears; but to withhold it, were but more deeply to peril our own guilty souls with the sin we shrink from denouncing in another, and to indulge a self-sparing fastidiousness. Yet it is a trial which must be felt at times by all who think deeply on the evil of their own hearts."

Clement looked up more hopefully. The Priest's humility was consoling. There was the sympathy of one struggling soul with another-not the proud superiority of a remote spectator. No: the Priest's own heart was in the trial-fire, and he felt for the weakness which Clement too often despised. The

latter acknowledged it to himself with sad selfreproach.

1

"After all," resumed Mr. Bernard, as they turned once more towards the house, in the deepening twilight," how glorious and encouraging is our position, and how grateful we ought to be for it. The means of grace to support our efforts after holy living, never fail us from the font of Baptism. What a noble and cheering subject of contemplation is the secret, steady progress of one great principle, ever flowing forth in various channels-the hidden growth of a seed sown by Divine grace in the human heart, long unknown, unseen, yet springing up at last in blessed luxuriance; the mighty workings of a spirit borne on the wings of Time, for ever onwards to Eternity, whose echoes are of the past; the silent, steady advance of a kingdom ever numbering fresh subjects in its expanding limits, to swell the triumph, and throng the courts of the Great King. And what is this channel of wondrous grace-the ark of hidden power-but the one Holy Catholic Church? For as the sacred words gave forth their teaching to the men of old, so is it now. That spiritual kingdom cometh not with observation; not temporal power nor earthly glory mark its advancing path. Within the hearts of men it establishes its mighty sway. The world's voice cannot say, 'Lo, here, or lo, there,' for the kingdom of Heaven is within us."