"accounted as sheep for the slaughter." "The Christians to the lions!" was the cry that ushered in the Roman holidays. Yet here is what the tentmaker writes to the martyrs: "In all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us!"

We are at a disadvantage in trying to translate this expression. It requires five English words to interpret one in the original Greek, and then they fall immeasurably short of it-the word hupernikomen, which is rendered "We are more than conquerors. In that word there are whole campaigns of service. It rings with the rattle of drums and the blare of trumpets and the shouting of multitudes. The rivalry of a penniless old tentmaker and a laurel-crowned Emperor is in it. The deathless, exultant hope of the Gospel is in it.

But how can that be? Can a man who speaks of himself as "killed all the day long" be greater than Cæsar with the world passing under his yoke? Here is no hyperbole; it is plain matter of fact. To be a conqueror is the climax of human ambition; but to be "more than a conqueror" is possible to the humblest of the faithful followers of Christ.

I. The most formidable of our enemies by common consent is Death.

Behold "the King of Terrors"! Sooner or later we must all come face to face with him. There are two ways of doing this.

There is Zeno's way. He was the father of the

Stoics, who believed that whatever is to be, will be, and there is no use of resisting it. "The black camel kneels at the doorway of every tent; let us make the best of it." The most consistent Stoics of our time are the followers of Islam, who are also the reckless soldiers of the world. Each of them carries his shroud in his knapsack. They face death stolidly because, as they say, the fated hour is written on their foreheads, and nothing they can do can possibly avert or postpone it.

But the way of the Christian is better. He does not conquer death by submitting to it, but becomes a super-conqueror by placating it. To him death is not a messenger of doom but the fairest of God's angels, calling him to a higher and better life. There is no more convincing evidence of the power of the Gospel than the dying words of those who have espoused it.

Richard Baxter: "I have pain but I have peace.' Edward Payson: "The battle is fought, the victory won.'

John Wesley: "The best of all is Immanuel, God with us."

Charles Wesley: "I shall be satisfied when I awake in thy likeness.'

The mother of the Wesleys: "Children, I am going; sing a song of praise."

Rutherford: "Oh, for a well tuned harp!"

John Fletcher: "I am like a bird escaping from its cage."

Prince Albert: "Rock of Ages, cleft for me."

Dr. Cookman: "Hallelujah, I am sweeping through the gates!"

Mrs. Hemans: "I hear the music of His voice." Lady Huntingdon: "I go to my Father tonight."

Philip Melanchthon: "Nothing now but heaven." John Bradford, the martyr: "Be of good comfort, we shall sup with Christ to-night.'

Edward Perronet, author of All hail the power of Jesus' name: "Glory to God in the height of his Divinity! Glory to God in the depth of his humanity! Glory to God in all his sufficiency! Into his hands I commend my spirit."

Robert Newton: "Farewell, sin and pain and sorrow! Welcome, joy and heaven and Christ forevermore!"

Is not this better than a mere servile acquiescence in the inevitable decree? Is it not better so to placate "the King of Terrors" that he shall wear a smiling face and lead us on to heaven and life eternal? Is not this more than conquest? And this is possible "through Him that loved us." As it is written, "The sting of death is sin and the strength of sin is the law; but thanks be to God which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ!"

II. But there is an enemy more formidable than Death; namely, Life.

Life's pains, its trials and temptations, its difficulties and obstacles, its "whips and scorns"-we are bound to meet them all. And "there is no discharge in this war."

How shall we get the better of our circumstances? That is the great question. Do it we must, if we would win success. For, as Macaulay says, "The mark of true greatness is to conquer one's environment and get the better of difficulties." And there are two ways of doing this.

One is the way of self-reliance; that is, to conquer by mere force of energy and resolution. Many a man without the aid of religion wins a measure of success that way. And it is, so far forth, a splendid thing to do.

I like the man who faces what he must
With step triumphant and a heart of cheer,
Who fights the daily battle without fear,
Sees his hopes fail, yet keeps unfaltering trust
That God is God, that somehow, true and just,
His plans work out for mortals; not a tear

Is shed when fortune, which the world holds dear,
Falls from his grasp; better, with love, a crust
Than living in dishonor; envies not,

Nor loses faith in man; but does his best,
Nor even murmurs at his humble lot;

But, with a smile and words of hope, gives zest
To every toiler; he alone is great

Who by a life heroic conquers fate.

The world pays tribute to one who, like Palissy the Potter, keeps a single purpose in view and makes all the forces of his being contribute toward it. This man set out to make white porcelain and reduced himself to poverty in the vain effort to accomplish it. He was beset by obstacles on every hand. At length his last farthing was gone for pots

and chemicals. Having no fuel for his furnace, he used the palings of his garden fence, tore down his pantry shelves and burnt up his furniture, while his wife stood weeping by and neighbors looked in at the windows deriding him. Then the crucible was emptied; and, lo, there was the white flux! Palissy the Potter had won out! All difficulties yield to the concentrated energy of such men.

But the way of the Christian is better. He does not merely conquer difficulties; he subsidizes them. He imitates the clever policy of the Roman Emperors as seen in their treatment of the more influential nations which they overcame in war. They were put under honorable tribute. Their kings and courtiers were not dragged in chains behind the conqueror's chariot but harnessed before it, as if to lend a friendly contribution to his glory.

So Paul subjugates the adverse forces of life: tribulation, distress, persecution, nakedness, famine, peril and sword. They draw his chariot while he cries, "We are more than conquerors through him that loved us." He is not satisfied with mere acquiescence in misfortune; "I glory in tribulation!" he says; and again, "I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.'

The man of the world takes things philosophi cally when he says, "All things are against me, but I will get the better of them." This, however, is not enough for the Christian; his philosophy goes