the beloved Son, by whom every bright, and lovely, and melodious thing was created. Go forth, also, amongst the treasures of art,—the forms of sculptured beauty,—the harmonies of music,-the rich colouring of the life-like canvass,-the "marble letters and granite pages" of old stately architecture, and lift up your heart in praise to Him who hath put wisdom into the hearts of the wise-hearted, like unto the wisdom of Bezaleel and Aholiab.-(Ex. xxxi. 1-11.) Go forth, also, amongst those whom God hath given to love you and to be beloved, and for every soul-thrilling glance, for every kindly sympathy and tender word, for all "sweet counsel," and precious unity, thank Him without whose love all earthly sympathy would have been but a name, all earthly tenderness would have been but as the foolishness of idolatry. Go back in memory to the days of "long ago,"-recall the wind tempered to the shorn lamb,—the strong wave of temptation breasted,—the hurtful thing, to which your soul clung, removed out of your path,—the right way chosen for you, instead of the wrong way which you had chosen for yourself,-the measure of affliction meted out which you required,—the friends selected whom your soul needed, the breathing times granted which your tried and struggling spirit yearned for;—oh, thank your God for it all. He it is who has been your guide through the waste howling wilderness, and the brightener of all

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green places with his smile. Go deep within the chambers of your soul; see there the bright hope smiling, and the light shining, and the new heart struggling, and the old sins staggering and falling; listen there to the voice which whispers all tender things of the love "unspeakable;" behold there the holy and adorned temple, rising stone by stone on the ruins of the chambers of imagery; meditate upon the bright, sinless, victorious future, upon the palm and crown which you shall cast at the feet of the Saviour, upon the new song which you shall sing to the slain Lamb, who so loved your soul even unto the death; and then thank Him, though breathlessly and voicelessly, for the great things He has done for vou, who have done such small things for Him.

There is a beautiful old legend or "parable," which Lord Lindsay quotes in "Christian Art," under the head of Christian Mythology. "Beyonde the sea was a noble ladie, on whose house alleway the sone shone on the day, and on the nyghte the mone. Of this many men mervayled. Atte last the fame of this come to the Byshop, a worthy man; ande he wente for to see here, hopyng that she was of grete penaunce in clothinge, or in mete, or in othere thinges. And when he come, he saw here alleway mery ande glede. The Bishope saide, 'Dame, what ete ye?' She answeride and saide, that dyverse metes and delicate. Then he asked if she vsed the hayre? She sayde, 'Nay.' After this the Byshope mervaylede, that

Gode wolde shew so grete mervaylle for such a woman. And when he hade taken his leve of the ladie, ande was gone his way, he thought he wolde aske here more of anothere thinge, and wente againe to here and said, 'Love ye not meikle Jhesu Criste ?' She said, 'Yis I love hyme, for he is alle my love; for when I thinke on his sweetnesse, I may not withhold myself for gladnesse and myrthe that I ever fele in hyme.""

Some hearts are by nature full of false sentiment and morbid feeling. They shrink from being happy, as if it were uninteresting and commonplace, and, strange as it may appear, they greatly prefer being miserable; they delight in being the heroes, or more frequently the heroines of interest and sympathy from others, and of their own day dreams of romance; and this strong tendency is often seen even after the heart is renewed. Others are afraid of being happy, lest, as they say, they should suffer for it after; as if God grudged his creatures happiness, and took hard compensation for their enjoyments! Instead therefore of leaving to-morrow as well as to-day in the keeping of their wise God, they darken the present with the shadows of the future, and die the many deaths of the coward. Others are afraid of being happy, for a different reason. They look so much to themselves, and their sins, and so little to Christ and His righteousness, that they dare not be happy and assured Christians, lest they may be, or may seem to

be presumptuous. Such melancholy temperaments forget that the more they joy in God, the more cause for joy He will give them; that the more they praise Him for strength, the more strength they will receive; that the more they thank Him even for the wish to conquer temptation, the more He will stand by them, and cause them to triumph for His name's sake. They forget that God's nature is a joyful one, that the element in which he lives is one of joy; and that when he gave men a new nature, it was part of his own joyful one. They forget that the showing forth of God's praise will be a work and a witness for him, in the midst of a joyless and thankless generation. There was a world of significance in the answer of the half imbecile Christian, who was asked by men of wisdom and experience, how it was that he rejoiced more than they? "Just because I am nothing, and you are something;

I'm a poor sinner and nothing at all,

And Jesus Christ is all in all."

If the trusting single-hearted Christian is not happy, who dares to be? If the possessor of a rich demesne may not rejoice in his prospects, how can they rejoice, who have no abiding treasures laid up in earth or heaven? Of whom ought it to be said but of the Christian, that he is "a man of cheerful yesterdays, and confident to-morrows?"

"Resolve, Christian," says Gurnall, "to enclose some time from all worldly suitors, wherein thou mayest

every day, if possible, at least take a view of the most remarkable occurrences that have passed between God and thee. First ask thy soul what takings it hath had that day, what mercies heaven hath sent in to thee; and do not when thou hast asked the question, like Pilate, go out; but stay till thy soul has made report of God's gracious dealings with thee. Yea, while thou art viewing these fresh mercies, telling over this new coin, hot out of the mint of God's bounty, ancient mercies they will come crowding in upon thee, and call for a place in thy thoughts, and tell thee what God hath done for thee months and years ago. is a great treasure of mercy always in the Christian's hands, and conscience is oft calling the Christian to take the account, and see what God has done for him; but seldom it is he can find time to tell his mercies over; and is it any wonder that such should go behind hand in their spiritual estate, who take no more notice what the gracious dealings of God are with them? How can he be thankful that seldom thinks of what he receives ?"

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"Bless the Lord then, oh my soul, and forget not all his benefits." Let not one be struck from thy memory-let not gratitude for the old mercies be absorbed in the enjoyment of the new. Neither let

the work be a selfish one. Praise God for his tender dealing with others; and if there be any whose tongues utter no words of praise, but whose language is, "Who shall show us any good ?" teach them to