And all the less can we avoid being humbled under tribulation, in respect that the heaviest strokes which fall upon us are those inflicted by our fellow-men. "Let me fall into the hand of the Lord, and let me not fall into the hand of men,”1 was the prayer of the saints of old. Strokes of that sort serve to remind me of my own sin. Even the son of Sirach, in describing the misery of life, speaks of "anger, zeal, envy, contradiction, and variance ;" and these, in fact, are the chief of the stripes with which man scourges his brother. But if earthly affliction of every sort makes us long for "an appeaser of all strife," much more does this! It is a perpetual discourse upon the theme, how greatly we stand in need of a Prince of Peace to reign over us.

When I think what must have become of me if I had passed all my life without having ever felt the weight of the divine hand, I shudder. Oh, how much good tribulation has done me! How it has rooted up the weeds and lopped off the rank shoots of sin in my nature; and how, beneath its influence, has my longing after a Saviour grown more and more intense! And when I further reflect how forgetful of God men are even now, overwhelmed although they be with so vast an ocean of tribulation and misery, I scarcely venture to figure to myself what they must have been without it. Would they ever have thought at all of an appeaser of discord, seeing that even in their present state they imagine they can dispense with His help?

O Lord, I refuse not Thy correction, for it is just: withhold not Thou from me Thy strokes; they are full of love and goodness. My soul is well pleased that Thou hast beset the ways of men with thorns. Oh, may all the thorns of earth fulfil their end, and discourse to me of the great heart-ache which sin has brought upon humanity! O Lord, we have merited this so bitter wrath of Thine, for great has been our transgression. But Thou hast proclaimed that "Whoso confesseth his sins and forsaketh them shall have mercy; 2 Prov. xxviii. 13.

1 Ecclus. ii. 18; 2 Sam. xxiv. 14.

"2 and

as I now confess my sins unto Thee, oh let me obtain the mercy which Thou hast promised.

THE SOUL.

Where can the rose that has no thorn be found?

Not on this earth of ours;

But, tell me, shall earth s roses always wound

The hand that plucks the flowers?

THE LORD.

I gave the rose at first a harmless boon,

The thorns are thine alone;

But ponder well the truth they teach, and soon
Their pain will all be gone.

3.

One Thing is needful.

Men blindly trifle this brief life away,

As thoughtless children treat their toys at play,
Which, prized at first, then spoilt, they cast aside
As ebbs the fit of fancy, like the tide.

We live without an aim, nor heed at all

The strict account for which the Judge will call.

Yet if the creature with his God contend,

Can any question how the strife must end?

LUKE, X. 41, 42. "And Jesus answered and said unto her, Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things; but one thing is needful: and Mary hath chosen that good part which shall not be taken away from her."

TH

HERE is nothing which more clearly shows the deceitfulness of sin, than the fact that men so seldom inquire for what purpose they have come into the world. Sometimes,

no doubt, we do hear persons who would not be thought totally devoid of Christianity, saying to themselves, "I must work while it is day,"-as if all depended upon the working, and nothing upon the nature of the work. He who carries on some of the homelier trades of life seems likely to arrive at the conviction that, in and of itself, his occupation can never be the chief end and object of his existence, far sooner than he whose employment is of a higher kind. The Lord has told us that man was not made even for so external a work as keeping the Sabbath; and far less, methinks, can he have been made to keep a shop, or hew wood, or exercise any common handicraft. These are all a mere Martha's service.

But oh how fatally does the deceitfulness of sin make sport of the men who cultivate learning and science and art! These things have quite a spiritual aspect, and the pursuit of them appears a high and noble vocation. Nor does one in ten of those who embrace it consider that, unless he make the love and glory of God his beginning and end, labour in the fields of literature and science is as much a bondage and a thraldom as that of the hind at the plough.

Ah! then no more across the main

For truth and wisdom fly;

By love alone can souls obtain
Worth and nobility.

In like manner, on the other hand, the humblest handicraft, when exercised from love to God and for His sake, becomes a lofty spiritual function. According to the words of Luther—

"No holier work the priest performs,

Than when in faith, to sweep the room,

The Christian housemaid plies her broom."

History speaks to us of earnest men, who, from their first outset on the path of life, felt themselves secretly constrained to inquire where the path would lead them. They could not

1 Mark, ii. 27.

but wonder at others who, though confessing themselves to be travellers, could yet tarry at the inns by the wayside, and trifle away their time, instead of hastening forward and preparing for the place destined to be their abode for ever. But

oh how seldom are such characters to be found! The world ought justly to marvel at the man who makes no inquiry about his Maker or his Maker's will, as at something unnatural; whereas it almost seems to be the world's opinion that he is the monster who takes it into his head to be seriously concerned about any such matter. And yet the Being whom men thus forget is the God who made them!

But, while forgetting God, what a multitude of other things they trouble themselves about, especially in these days of sweet turmoil! How impetuously they pursue a good which all the while they might find within their reach! With what passionate ardour do many even of those who are above slaking their thirst at the marshes by the wayside, hunt in the fields of art and science for that sovereign balm which is to heal, and heal for ever, all the wounds of humanity! How piteously they mourn the loss of any opportunity to admire some masterpiece of art, as if they had trifled away the grace of God; and how eagerly they grasp at every new discovery in science as if it were a draught that would wake the dead! That science is good and art beautiful none can deny; but alas! until the wounds of the soul be healed, art and science only inflame, and cannot quench its thirst. Out upon the headlong impetuosity of men

Who seek on ocean's boundless sands,

But seek in vain, the pearl which 'scapes their eye,
Hid in the refuge of some tiny shell!

Yes not afar off have we to search for the pearl of great price-that pearl, to possess himself of which a man ought to sell all that he hath. The Son of God has bequeathed it to His Church; and, since that day, wherever a church exists, there also is a market where the pearl may be purchased. Out

upon the headlong impetuosity of mankind! Oh, while with thankful heart I look forth from my refuge among the green pastures and the still waters, and behold the multitude rushing with such haste and clamour along, and always passing the goal, at which, if they but knew it, it is their wish to arrive, how I long to cry out to them

Why thus precipitate?

In your hot haste to reach you pass the gate!

Jesus, my Lord, truly dost Thou say that souls which, like Martha, labour only for this world's meat, are careful and troubled about many things, and that the better part is that which Mary chose; for since I began to hunger for the meat of heaven, my carefulness and trouble are greatly subdued, and now are always mingled with some sense of peace; whereas before, so long as I strove after earthly blessings and earthly wisdom alone, I was never free from restlessness and disquiet. But to the violent, who, with sword in hand, would make a conquest of Thee, Thou never yieldest. They only find who seek Thee with childlike hearts. The millions of sunbeams

that warm and cherish us come all of them at once, but all so softly and silently down; and even so dost Thou desire to be sought earnestly, indeed, but not with hot and boisterous haste. Dear Lord! when Mary took her place at Thy feet, Thou didst sit down beside her; and to every soul that longs after Thee Thou wilt do the same. Thy only wish is to see us all at Thy feet like her. From the silence that reigns in Thy school, I used to think that life in a manner ceased when love to Thee began; and, behold, I have found that "in loving Thee I first began to live." So long as I was out of the centre I roved around the whole circumference of creation, and had no rest. I found the centre in finding God, and I need to wander about for rest no more.

True it is that avocations such as Martha's are also appointed for us in this life; and Thou Thyself, O Jesus, by Thy humble labours in the carpenter's shop, hast sanctified