laid down, the armour for ever put off, the care for ever swept aside, parting for ever unknown-pain, tears, fears for ever banished from our sphere. No, it is no mere negation which can ever make rest for man. His rest must be the work of a festival day; work to occupy, though not to strain, all his manliest energies; work with the incense of praise and the music of song; the work for which all his powers have been trained and matured by the life-long discipline, and in which he will share the activity and the joy of his Lord. If Christians thought and talked more about the work of heaven, and less about its placid enjoyments of repose and song, there would be a less scornful feeling than there is now in many influential minds, about the practical effect and worth of the teachings of our popular Christianity. is this rest from care that sleep brings to us; and sleep is an image-no more-of the inner and blessed rest, which by faith we may know in a measure in time, and shall know without measure in eternity. All the functions of the frame in sleep are in full play and progress. Heart, lungs, brain, are alive and active; imagination roams in unseen regions; it sees fairer scenes than the weary waking eyes can look upon, and recalls the memory of vanished joys. What sleeps is care; the sense of the burden and the strain, the discontent with the present, the doubt about the future, the heartache, the folly, the sin. For the moment the care of it all is laid down, and the spirit gets refreshed and renewed for its toils. Life is strong in the springs in slumber; it is care only which for the time is dead. And what is care? It is the experience of the man who is bent on being his own providence; who takes on himself the whole responsibility, not of the conduct of life only, but of the conditions and results which are absolutely beyond his power of regulation, and which God keeps calmly under His own hand. There is one thing which we have to care for, that the day's work be the bravest and strongest which our power can compass, and free from any base admixture of motive or aim; what comes of it is absolutely the care of God. And the result which flows from it, whatever it may be, is God's best gift to us; the best that He sees that He can do for us, having in view the outlooks of eternity. To believe this is to enter into rest. But the chapter which dwells on the rest "which remaineth," has another remarkable and significant statement on the subject, which is a good deal misunderstood. "We which have believed do enter into rest." No doubt the future is suggested here; but there is equally no doubt that the present is included, and that by faith we enter into a rest here, which is prophetic in its principle and in its character of the rest which remaineth for us in eternity. The Scripture is emphatic in its revelations as to the continuity of life, with all its interests and activities, in the two worlds. The only rest which it is greatly worth our while to seek or to think about, is rest in working. "My Father worketh hitherto, and I also work," said the Saviour, who, through all the storm And this rest from care has been the great and strife and want and pain of His earthly aim and desire of man through all his generaministry, lived in the sphere of the perfect tions. How to free him from this burden has and eternal rest; as shall we, in the measure been the problem which sage and priest have in which we live like Him. He rested set themselves to solve in all ages of the world. perfectly not from, but in, His work; never Man feels and knows that there is something for a moment was there the shadow of a humbling, degrading, and unworthy of the restless longing to be other than He was, and true dignity of his manhood, in the eager to do other than He did, at each moment; hunt for the beggarly elements around him, always he was about His Father's business, with which elements he refuses to confound and in the place and under the conditions himself, but to which he is constantly drawn which the Father ordained. Paul, perhaps by temptation; and still more in the wolfish of all men, entered most fully into this rest fierceness with which men struggle for the of faith; "without were fightings, and within treasures of this world, as if a universe of were fears but there was still an inner them would satisfy the longings or still the sphere which neither fightings nor fears in-aching of one little heart. And the problem vaded, and in which there reigned the of man's higher life has always been how to peace which passeth all understanding, emancipate himself. The wise ones in each and the joy which is unspeakable and full generation have made it the study of their of glory." lives to free themselves and to get rest, or at any rate the nearest likeness to it which they could win. And the main result of their study of their relation to the things What man supremely needs is not rest from work, but rest from care. It is the care of life which wears and strains. And it external to their own being, on which so many of man's burdens and anxieties hang, has been the resolution to have as little to do with them as possible. This is the idea which underlies and really relates to each other the Epicurean and Stoic schools. The philosopher said to himself, "The world fills me with an agitation, an eagerness, an anxiety, which, comparing it with the dignity of my nobler part, seems to me simply shameful; and I see no help for it if I once allow to the world a footing in my scheme of life. The only wise plan is to reduce my desires and interests to the narrowest dimensions, and to harden this sensitive nature to the rough blasts which make me shiver to the very marrow in my bones. I must wrap myself in my integrity, my soul-wholeness; and make the resolution final that I will suffer nothing external to become of importance to my life." This is the rest of the philosophic schools. The Eastern Yogi, the Western monk, solve the problem in the same way, but they take in, to reinforce them in their contempt of this world, the outlooks of eternity. "I must keep out of the world," they say, "I must care absolutely nothing about its interests, possessions, and pleasures; if I enter the crowd, if I cross the line, I am lost;" and thus they enter into rest. But the sad part of the matter is, that man does not and cannot rest in mere renunciations and denials. There is a question in the background which has its organ in every conscience. How on this principle can the world's business be carried on? And who made the world and its business? Is not asceticism in the long-run a high contempt of God? The "ermine-robed great world," which is the ultimate judge in all controversies, refuses to believe that man is created in the midst of a system of things with which his very heart-strings are inwoven, just that he may break from it and escape bleeding, perhaps with his life-blood ebbing away. There lies deep down in man's heart the conviction that the ascetic view of life is a libel on the world and on God, its maker; and this has robbed it of all power to open the gates of his Canaan and to "bring him in." And it is curious, too, that as matter of fact the end of this searching after rest by escaping from the daily cares and burdens of the world's life, is the substitution of selfmade cares and burdens of beggarly slight ness and smallness. In truth monks and nuns—yes, and those old Athenian disputants of the schools-made for themselves heavy cares and absorbing interests out of trifles scarce worthy to occupy a child. No! there is no rest for the human spirit in this burying the head in the sand when troubles throng round, man says in all ages by his rebellion against the doctors and the priests. It is but a coward's refuge, after all; the safety is the safety of a fugitive. God's image was not stamped on man as the brand of a deserter. The Godlike face was not set in front of him that his life might be a flight. It contradicts the essential conditions of man's existence here; his very form and structure are against it, as well as the deepest instincts and convictions of his heart. Wherever his rest may lie, it must admit him to full share in all the strain, peril, and temptation of life's battles; it must be in the world and not out of the world; it must be an enlarging, uplifting, and inspiring of his nature; it can never lie in crippling or destroying himself. The only possible rest for man is the rest that he finds in God. Again it must be said that it is not rest. from work, but rest in work that man needs here and in eternity-rest from care, from thought which distracts him, which tears him two ways, and makes schism in the seamless robe of his nature and life. The lowest, but by no means the least burdensome and distracting class of our cares concerns what Mr. Carlyle calls the great bread-and-cheese question and its surroundings; and this explains the position in the Lord's prayer occupied by the petition, "Give us this day our daily bread." There was one who could say as to this matter, “I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content. I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound: everywhere and in all things I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need." And hunger, cold, and nakedness were no unknown experiences in his life. And it is said in the Hebrews, "Be content with such things as ye have: for he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee." Now we give a half-belief to these truths. No doubt it is well in a general way to trust. But a balance at the bankers' too, we think, is a very good thing, and makes assurance doubly sure. Very good indeed, if the main thought is, "It is the Father's good gift to me, the Father's provision for my need. And it will be very good as long as He sees fit to keep it there, but it will be also good, very good, if the Father sees fit to withdraw it, and to leave me only as my staff and stay Him who has said, 'I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee."" We trust, most of us, in a vague way in God. It is a good thing, we think, to have Him in the background to fall back upon. But the grandest chapter in human history, were it fairly written, would be the lives of the men who have set Him very visibly in the foreground, and have trusted to Him with entire confidence the whole ordering of their lives. The men who have said simply, "Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?" and doing it, have cast all their care upon God, are the master builders in the world's history. Science seems in these days to have repeated the process which Pope celebrates in the well-known lines "Philosophy, which leaned on heaven before, Shrinks to her second cause, and is no more.' But the Lord is the living presence in Provi- "Trust in the the God of my salvation." A nobler form of care is that which has to do with persons, that which springs out of our affections, sympathies, and loves. Our care for our kindred, our care for our friends, our care for the great world; who shall measure the burden which these may cast upon the heart? But all our wearing anxiety is based upon the feeling that on the whole, if we had but the power, we could do better for them than God. We hear enough and say enough about the selfishness of the world. It obtrudes itself, and we lash it sharply and justly with the whips of our scorn. But they see on high more than we see of the world's unselfishness; the lives that day by day are laid patiently-yea, joyfully—on the altar of parental, conjugal, fraternal, and filial love. Much we would do for our dear ones. We would toil for them, watch for them, and sacrifice time, and money, and position freely for their good. But we have not died for them, and we are for taking the care of them out of the hands of One who has. And this is said in all simplicity and earnestness. It seems to lie at the root of all rest in God, as concerns our cares and sorrows about our friends and about the world. There is plenty to justify care-even an agony of apprehension, if we could not trust them with Him. There is one sick, hanging between life and death; tossing in fever, moaning, raving; or tortured with pain, convulsed, crying out for release. Many a passionate prayer goes up to heaven from their bedside, many a defiant longing to take it out of the hands of God. There is another, weak, sensitive, delicately organized, and hitherto tenderly shielded from every blast, from every breath; and we see that it can be so no longer, and that the loved one must go out into the world and fight. And we have been out in the world and know what it means; and we watch our darling with agony putting forth into the storm from which we, strong sailors, are scarcely saved. Yes, it is all true; we know what life is, and we dread it for them. But there is one thing which we do not know: what eternity is, and what awaits the patient victorous sufferers there. And God does know. He who knows all, He who rules all, He who has ordered the whole system of things to fulfil the purposes of His perfect and infinite love, has charge of their future and the world's. trust it with Him. The wise ones of the world may smile at what they are pleased to We may call the credulity of faith; but we have the measure of the love to which we trust in Calvary—that, at any rate, with all that it can work, is ever on the watch to help and to save. And the same faith lifts the burden from the heart of the Christian lover of mankind. "How long, O Lord, how long?" we are ever crying. "Awake, O arm of the Lord, awake! Unsheathe the sword; smite thy foes, and bring in the reign of righteousness and peace." In truth we are always calling for the twelve legions of angels, to finish the work swiftly and usher in Messiah's reign. And God answers, Patience, and points us to the redemptive purpose which stamped its impress on the first page of revelation and sets its seal on the last; and He bids us wait His time. Of the redeemed world it is written there, "It shall never perish, neither shall any pluck it out of its Saviour's hand." Nor is this a doctrine of laissez faire, or anything like it. The man who trusts most perfectly, works most heartily. Christ, while He lifts the burdens, braces the energies, inspires the will, and parades all the faculties of the man in their noblest form for service. The man who believes understands perfectly that the most strenuous use of all the powers of his being, is one of the high conditions by which God is seeking to work out blessing for himself, for his dear ones, and for the great world. when it has not been so droned into the ear by the cantus, the cant, of the priest, that men grow weary of thinking about it, and are sorely tempted to believe that all the voices of the spiritual world are as hollow as the professional drone which has monopolized their utterance. But the question ever recurs, nothing can silence it: If there be a righteous God ruling in heaven, can there be forgiveness for such sin as mine? And the more the conscience is awakened the darker looms the guilt of the spirit. As it comes forth into the daylight the more utter seems the iniquity of its sin. And it is just this sin-burdened, sin-crushed spirit that God calls into His perfect peace. "Only believe,” says Christ to such an one, thy sins are forgiven; go in peace." Just as the morning mist is scattered by the noontide splendour, the sun of God's love in Christ sweeps all this wrack of sins away. They are not; they are buried in the depths of oblivion; they shall come up before the face of God no more. But it is easier for the burdened spirit to believe in the forgiveness of Christ than in His redemption. That He blots out guilt man can believe, it is so like His mercy. But sin remains, indwelling, ingrained, tainting every act and thought, darkening life's brightest visions, and fouling its clearest springs. It was not the worst man of his time who cried, 'O miserable man that I am, who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" It is not pardon only that man wants, it is liberty. It is not the past that he dreads, it is the future. It is not the judgment that he shrinks from, it is the pure face of God. He needs to be new born, new made; the spring must be cleansed, the fountain of health reIt stored. And thus by the inward renewing Christ crowns His work. Forgiveness were little, unless He could cleanse and renew the forgiven. Unless He can redeem the soul that trusts Him, Calvary was a wanton waste. It may seem very feeble, the life, the progress. It is always thus with seeds in winter-time, and this is our winter; it will burst in time into glorious spring. He sees that the power to save is waiting on His will, or He had never mocked us with the gospel. We have that to rest upon, the Infinite energy of His redeeming love. Our part is to work, fight, wrestle, with strenuous earnestness, as though heaven or hell were hanging on our strength and courage; while we rest, in working, in battling, on the thought, that behind our own weak self is the strength, the courage, and the conquering purpose of the Lord. For himself!—ah, there, many a one will say sadly, is the chief source of my care. I could trust my circumstances to God; were all to go to wreck, I could still smile. I could trust my dearest to a wiser and more loving hand than mine. But my great care is my sinful self; the crushing load of the burden is there. Yes, that is the worst. was of this burden that Christ was thinking when He said, "Come unto me, all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Oh, how weary, how heavy laden, Christ only knows. There is a current which seems ever sweeping us backward, as we struggle onward and upward. And when we set our lives beside Christ's, the great gulf between them fills us with despair. And yet of all the burdens which oppress us, this is the load which we may most surely bring and cast upon God. Sin rankles in the memory; it rises like a cloud between the soul and the shining of the face of God. "Wherewith shall I come before the Lord?” has been man's cry through the ages, when he has uttered his deepest thought; in heathendom, in Christendom, it is all the same; at least THE SIR HENRY VANE. was able to add, however, that, his conscience having been awakened, he repented him of his shortcomings, the result being that by grace. he was afterwards kept steadfast, "desiring to walk in all good conscience toward God and toward men, according to the best light and understanding God gave me." He left the University without graduating, being unable conscientiously to take the oaths of abjuration and supremacy. After leaving Oxford he went for a tour on the Continent, passing through Holland and France, and sojourning for a time in Geneva. He returned home in 1632. His family and friends considered him greatly improved. by foreign travel. Sir Tobias Matthew, who was then an inmate of his father's 'HE most dramatic and discreditable incident in Cromwell's career was his forcible dissolution of the Long Parliament on the 20th of April, 1653. He then went to the House of Commons, and, having listened for a quarter of an hour to the debate, he rose and insultingly told the members that he would put an end to their prating. In obedience to his order two files of musketeers marched into the House, whereupon Sir Henry Vane exclaimed, "This is not honest; yea, it is against morality and common honesty." When Cromwell heard this, "he fell a-railing, crying out with a loud voice, 'Oh, Sir Henry Vane, Sir Henry Vane, the Lord deliver me from Sir Henry Vane.'” These words have had such wide currency that Sir Henry Vane is best known as the man from whom Crom-house, writes that the younger Vane's well prayed to be delivered. Vane's actual services to his country are imperfectly understood and inadequately appreciated. Few of his contemporaries were his intellectual superiors. Not only did he stand in the first rank of English statesmen, but he was one of the active and honoured founders of New England. Other men besides him have been governors of an American colony and afterwards members of the English Parliament, but he is the only Englishman who has been successively a representative in a Massachusetts Legislature and a member of the English House of Commons. Henry Vane was born in 1612 at his father's seat of Hadlow Manor, in Kent. The elder Vane was high in the good graces of James I. and of his son and successor Charles. When the latter went to Scotland to be crowned in 1633, he was entertained by Vane with as great state at Raby Castle, in Durham, as Elizabeth had been entertained by Leicester at Kenilworth, in 1575. Henry Vane was sent to Westminster School, where he remained till he was sixteen, when he was entered as a gentleman commoner at Magdalen College, Oxford. Clarendon records that Vane did not live "with great exactness" at the University, although he was "under the care of a very worthy tutor." If this be meant to imply that his moral character was open to reproach, the insinuation is at variance with other and equally trustworthy evidence. In the closing hours of his life he admitted and deplored that, in early youth, he was prone to the vanities of this world. XXII-35 He "French is good, his discourse discreet, and The On the 6th of October, 1635, three persons who have made their mark in English history landed at Boston, in Massachusetts. first was John Winthrop, the younger, who was afterwards Governor of Connecticut;, the second was the Rev. Hugh Peter, who afterwards became Chaplain to Cromwell; |