"A farmer's life is the life for me;
I own I love it dearly."

"There's high and low, there's rich and poor,
There's trades and crafts enow, man;
But east or west, his trade's the best
That kens to guide the plough, man.”

"We dwell in the meadows and toil on the sward,
Far away from the city's dull gloom ;

And more jolly are we, though in rags we may be,
Than the pale faces over the loom."

"Print, printers, print-a noble task
Is the one we gaily ply."

We might go on making numberless selections, in one or other of which almost every kind of work is said to be best, and noblest, and greatest.

Now there is nothing contradictory or absurd in all this. The songs are made for the singers who have themselves chosen the calling of which they sing. Why do they choose it? Because to them it appears the most desirable, it suits their talents and their capabilities, and so they prefer it to all others-they like it best. Those

who are made to work at the trade they dislike never sing songs in praise of it; you may depend upon that. Their work, poor things, is not likely to be held in much honour by any one, for they themselves do not honour it. The very first necessary qualification, in order to secure success in any kind of work, is that the workers shall take delight in it, and the greater the importance of the work, the greater the necessity.

And I think you will agree with me that the highest and noblest work of all is that which has to deal with persons and not things. This requires the skill, the thought, the care, and the thoroughness of our best and cleverest. A mistake or a blunder made with inanimate things is bad, no doubt, although often it can be rectified or substituted; but those who are shaping the minds and training the hearts of human beings need to operate with fear and trembling. If these are warped, or defaced, or marred, they will carry the scars and disfigurements to the very end.

You are a young teacher. You have chosen to go, Sabbath after Sabbath, to meet a class of little ones for the sake of teaching them the truths of the Most High God-yours is a blessed work! Or you are employed daily in a school-teaching is your chosen profession, perhaps. Well, if you chose it, I have no need to ask you if you love your work. I trust you made yourself quite sure of this before you finally decided. For there is no question that the very first qualification of a teacher, Sabbath-school teacher, or day-school teacher, is love.

Love to the work and all connected with it. Love of knowledge, and a love of imparting it to others. A warm love to children, and a hearty sympathy with them because they are children. Turn again to St. Paul's definition of love in I Cor. xiii., use the revised edition, if you have one, and see if there is any one thing mentioned as love's exemplification which teachers do not need. Prophesy, knowledge,

faith, are nothing without love; tenderness, yea, even martyrdom, is nothing without love.

"Love suffereth long and is kind; love envieth not; love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things: love never faileth.”

And this love is something more than a fondness for one or more than one child whom you teach. You could be fond of individual children without being a teacher at all. But as a teacher your love must manifest a large-hearted tenderness, capable of entering into even the most minute details and difficulties, and dealing gently and lovingly even with offenders. You may feel especially drawn to certain children-they are so bright, or clean, or good; or there is a peculiar sympathy between you, the child catches your thought before you utter it almost, and it is so pleasant to teach such.

Yes, it is pleasant; but love hovers round the ones who do not respond in this way, hovers and lingers even more yearningly than over those who do. We can well understand the truth expressed in the words which tell of the joy evinced at the finding the lost sheep or the piece of silver. We know that a mother's heart thinks oftenest and most lovingly, not on the darlings who are safe, but on those who are in danger.

With this sort of love every teacher should regard the classes they teach-every true teacher will so regard them. They will rejoice in some -lovingly rejoice; they will yearn long over others-lovingly yearn. And the last will call forth more effort, more prayer, more thought, yea, more love than the rest.

Love to the work as the work; love to the actual training into shapeliness, and delight in every evidence of development, small though it be. Just as we lean over some frail little