sorrow and care, the gospel comes to his side, and whispers in his ear, "You won't always be weary; by-and-bye you will be at rest." When some one is weeping, mourning perhaps the loss of some beloved friend, the gospel wipes away the tear by saying, “It won't always be the night of weeping; by-and-bye will come heaven, the home of re-unions, where "Father, brother, child and mother

Meet once more."

There is a familiar song, that the boys love to sing, telling that "There is a good time coming, wait a little longer." If another interpretation is given to that song, it may have a very pathetic application. There are good times coming for us, but we must wait for them a little longer. Through God's great mercy and love we shall by-and-bye "see good days." But we must be content to wait. Don't despise the greatness of the grace of being able to wait. God can be honoured in waiting. Milton in one of his poems very beautifully says—

"They also serve who only stand and wait."

For the "good days" that are coming we must have patience, and the meaning of patience is willingness to wait. We sometimes hear old people, perhaps suffering great pain, say, "I wish I could die." It was said to me only last week by a very old person, who was poor and ill, "Sometimes sir, I wish that I could die!" Do such commit a wrong in cherishing under these circumstances such a wish? I know not; but this I know, that many of the richest promises of God are to those that are willing to wait. Here is one of them: "I waited patiently for the Lord; and He inclined unto me, and heard my cry.' "The Lord is good to them that wait for Him." To see the good days," we must wait for. Heaven. Not that I mean for one moment to imply that there are not "good days" on earth. Far from it. As I have seen it said,

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they who say that this is a miserable world, or that this is a miserable life, say not well. It is a misanthrophy, or a diseased imagination only, that says this." But it is when Heaven is put in comparison with earth that the greater

light of Heaven seems to eclipse all lesser lights. At night the moon is bright, and the great stars in the eternal heavens seem almost dazzling in the intensity of their shining. But directly the sun begins to rise, these "lesser lights are made dim in the greater light of the sun.

So earth, with its joys and mercies, is full of "good days," when looked at by itself, but directly we place it side by side with Heaven, then we cry-" The good days are to come!"

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In this way I preach to you a Gospel of "good days" to come. I point to the threshold of life's journey, to the horizon where the sunsets are, and tell you of "good days" to come. I say with the prophet Isaiah,-" We wait for light." We wait for the Temple where the Lamb is the Light thereof." This is the only Gospel I believe in. To my mind the Gospel is either one of "good days" to come, or as the Bible puts it elsewhere,—"good tidings of great joy," or it is a dark and cruel legend. I can understand no via media. The one makes me tremble at its gloom, it strikes horror into

me at its inventive cruelty, but the other brings light into my dwelling; its very message is to make me love its Author; and it brings my soul into harmony with the Gospel Message, that "God is Love."

You who are in trouble to-night, who have been tasting the chalice of suffering; you who have been struggling with pain, and wrestling with a sorrow too sacred perhaps to tell a crowded world, oh! take comfort,there are "good days" coming! You who are sitting weeping beside your lattice window, listening for the wheels of His chariot to take you to His rest; who are almost tempted sometimes in the depth of your grief to say, "Why are the wheels of His chariot so long in coming," the "good days" for you are at hand! You who have had to learn a lesson of intense suffering; on whose backs, like your Master's, though in a less degree, "the plowers have plowed; and made long furrows; " with whom the strange mystery of pain has long lingered; you who have known few of what men call "the sweets of life," but have grown

familiar with the bitter cups that, in God's providence, we are all more or less called upon in this life to be partakers of-to you, I say, "joy cometh in the morning!" But you must wait, and in patience possess you souls, until the morning comes. You must not look for sunshine in the night. Light you may have in the night, but it is "the lesser light." Sunshine only comes when the morning comes! And in this way I like to think of all those familiar salutations that I was referring to at the commencement of my sermon to-night. "Goodbye," we say to our friends. That means, may the by-and-bye with you be good. "Good night" we say, when the day is done and we part from our friends for the hours of darkness. Not "I am taking farewell of you for ever," but only just for the night, until the morning breaks again; for a night pre-supposes a morning to follow. And when I stand in the room of the dying, watching the flickering life that has done its day; when the embers are almost burnt out in the hearth; when at that evening hour, with the sunset light falling on the dying