all trades and handicrafts, thereby putting me to shame, and teaching me by Thy example to count no labour which life imposes, ignoble or unclean. A light in the centre illumines the whole circumference; and even so, when there is grace in the heart, it radiates its brightness upon all man's outward employments. Martha, then, performs her service, but she does it with the mind of Mary. Holy Jesus! doubtless Thy abour in the shop of Joseph was as much a worship as Thy prayers in the temple. It was ever Thy meat to do Thy heavenly Father's will, and with this hidden manna Thou wert regaled even when standing at the carpenter's bench. And the same hidden manna shall also be my food, whether in my workshop or at my desk, whether labouring in the fields or walking in the streets. In every work, however mean, And art and skill, beneath love's ray, Their choicest flowers and fruits display. O Lord, rich in grace, when Thou takest possession of the heart, how beautifully all the natural talents Thou hast lent us expand! Beneath the sunny influence of Thy love even our secular employments thrive and prosper. Oh, if they but knew, how would the men who only strive for success in temporal affairs take to heart what Thy Word avers, that "godliness is profitable unto all things, having promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come"! And were our philosophers and artists thoroughly penetrated by the light and warmth of the Sun of grace, how would the arts and sciences of this earthly life flourish as they have never yet done; and how much brighter would be the hue, and richer the fragrance, of the fruit they bore! Yes, one thing is needful. Give me the one chief good, and, that possessed, I, in that one, will relish all the rest. All Thou pervadest, Lord, oh let Thy light Still fondly do, Imbibe Thy rays, And take the moulding of Thy grace. 4. Teach us to number our Days. There's nothing that we less can trust By every step in life's brief race, Joy dies within the heart apace, And with it dies the heart. I COR. XV. 32. "If after the manner of men1 I have fought with beasts at Ephesus, what advantageth it me, if the dead rise not? let us eat and drink; for to-morrow we die." 2 HEB. ix. 27. "It is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment." PSALM XC. 12. "So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom." M AY it not be said of the vast majority of mankind that they live as if they imagined they were never to die? And yet it is not so. The fact seems rather to be that, aware 1 I.e., without regard to the retribution of eternity. This saying of a Greek poet shows the view taken of life by many of the heathen who did not believe in the world to come. B how short is the span that separates them from the confine at which they must surrender and bid adieu to all this earth has given them, they would fain enjoy life while it lasts. "Death makes pale the face," is indeed a weighty truth; but it fares no better than all other such weighty truths when committed to the power of man. If, in the hand of one, it becomes a staff on which he safely leans, in that of another it is transformed into a serpent. Does death indeed, he says, make pale the face? "Well, then, come on, let us enjoy the good things that are present; and let us diligently use the creatures like as in youth. Let us crown ourselves with rosebuds ere they be withered." 1 But what is this pale death, for on that all depends? Is it the black wall at which the pilgrim halts, and-goes down? Is it the sleep which no dreams disturb? Or is it the dark partition between us and the holy land? Is it the swift moment, the little bridge, on which the brief sleep of time encounters the long awakening of eternity? That black is the wall at which the days of our life terminate is denied by none. Well for him who can discern in it the little door through which the light of the day of judgment throws its purple rays! Judging by what meets the eye, we might suppose that although the leaves of that door stand always open, the vast majority of mankind had never observed it. Like Belshazzar, they appear to sit at the banquet of life without one thought of the dark and silent hand which is all the while inscribing upon the wall, "Thou art weighed in the balance and found wanting." I am persuaded, however, that this is mere appearance. I am confident that there is not a human being whose heart has not, some time or other, felt a presentiment of the terrors of judgment. No one believes that all is over at death, or at least believes it firmly and at all times. And will not what is to ensue thereafter merely resume the thread which was broken here; and if so, will there be no accusers to 1 Wisdom of Solomon, ii. 6-8. testify of hours misspent, of privileges abused, of places profaned, of debts unpaid, and hidden secrets of iniquity? If there be no presentiment of a day of judgment even in the heart of the thoughtless, whence comes their dread of being left alone? This feeling admits of no explanation but the fact that even here on earth there are accusers which, in solitary hours, present to man his unpaid accounts. Or whence, if not from such a presentiment, come the resolutions which so many form, and repeat, and again repeat, to amend their lives and seek out new paths for their feet? Oh that the ability were only as strong as the wish! but At thirty man suspects himself a fool; In all the magnanimity of thought, Resolves and re-resolves, and dies the same. It is true that serious thoughts like that of the day of judg ment do not float upon the surface, and this may be the reason why many a one appears far less concerned than he really is. Let some man of God, however, push the probe deep into the thoughtless heart, and it is soon seen that he touches the quick. No one probably perceived from the countenance of Felix, the Roman governor, that any dread of eternity lingered in his greedy and voluptuous bosom. But if that had not been the case, why do we read that, as Paul reasoned of righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come, Felix trembled, and answered, Go thy way for this time "?1 66 Yes; without a doubt, in the deep despondency which creeps over us all at the thought of separation from the good things of this life, there is always some touch of the terrors of eternity. Begin the song of death to sing, That solemn parting strain ; 1 Acts, xxiv. 25. Yes; without a doubt, the awe which these words inspire springs not merely from solicitude about what we leave behind, but likewise from anxiety about what awaits us before. No one can be happy in this present life unless he be assured of salvation in the life to come. In former days, when as yet I knew not in what I believed, it used deeply to affect and humble me, while composing long dissertations upon such questions as, Whether the soul is immortal, and what immortality is,—to hear believing Christians speaking upon the subject as confidently as if they had just come from the heavenly land. This was nothing but the fulfilment of the promise, "He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life," and "tasteth the powers of the world to come." 1 As for the man who has never yet made his peace with God, how can he possibly be happy in this life, seeing that every moment is conducting him farther and farther away from the place which contains all that gives pleasure to his heart? Every tick of the clock, every particle of sand that drops in the hour-glass, proclaims that a fragment of his life, and, with it, of his fortitude and joy, is gone. Dost thou hear the low but mournful lay which the softly-falling grains never cease to sing? Behold, O man! and thee bethink As one by one we steal away, So silently does fell decay Prey on thy frame. What though our course be still and slow? No pause by day or night we know, But ever drop. And come there will an hour when all Are gone, and as the last shall fall Thy pulse shall stop. 1 John, iii. 36; Heb. vi. 5. |