clashed, then all the people shouted with a great shout, and praised the Lord because the foundation was laid. Were there no tears in such a stirring hour? When hearts were moved, and memories arose, and all the glorious and sad and sinful past revived-were there none in their mingled joy and sorrow who found it impossible to shout, for weeping? Many of the ancient men who had seen the first house, wept with a loud voice' (v. 12).

Now

WOW let us gather some lessons from this chapter. And first, it is well to build an altar till we can get a temple. There would have been large excuse for these returned exiles if they had stayed in their homes till the foundation-laying. It was a Temple they were bound to erect, and till that was possible, had they not work at their own doors? But the spirit of Israel was far nobler than that. Their sufferings had purified and deepened them. They said, 'Until the way is clear to have a temple, at least let us have an altar to the Lord.' And I believe that that lonely and isolated altar, rising amid a wilderness of ruin, was as precious in the sight of God in heaven, as the House that was soon to bear His name. When you cannot do all that you would like to do, at least do the little that is possible now. It is one great danger of having splendid dreams, that they make us blind to present opportunities.

'When obstacles and trials seem

Like prison walls to be,

I do the little I can do,

And leave the rest to Thee.'

Erect your altar till you can build your temple.

NEXT note, you may look for excitement when great foundations are laid. As we read this story of the founding of the Temple, we see what a scene of enthu

siasm it was. There was a great excitement in the crowd, an excitement that would have been wild had it not been filled with God. When the actual building of the walls began, there would be little of this loud enthusiasm. Men would toil silently, in sweat and weariness, as stone after stone was lifted to its place. Now there are two ways, akin yet different, in which we may picture the beginnings of religion. We may think of it as the sowing of a seed; or we may think of it as the founding of a temple. If the first (and the seed is the Word), then the beginnings will be quiet and noiseless. There is no re-echoing cheer along the fields, when the sower goes out to sow in the spring morning. And a man might listen with keenest ears, and never hear the seed fall on the furrow. Did your religious life begin like that? But if the second, and it too is scriptural, for 'are ye not temples of the Holy Ghost?' you may expect a little excitement at the start. Let no mother or no teacher damp it down. Zerubbabel was wise to let the people shout. He knew that the days of weary strain were coming, when they would be sad and sorrowful enough. So the enthusiasm of true foundation-days will change into the toil of building-days. By and by, when the first glow is over, it will

'condense within the soul,

And change to purpose strong.'

A Christian is not going to be built up into a cottage. He is going to be built up into a glorious temple. I think it is wise to keep that in mind should there be some tumult on the foundation-day.

THEN, lastly, we see this in our chapter, how closely akin is our laughter to our tears. Has no one ever said to you in a great hour, 'I did not know whether to laugh or cry'? I think that was the feeling of the ancients as they gathered on that memorable morning.

They were very happy, yet they were very sad. They meant to praise, yet they could only weep. They were learning, what we all learn in the long-run, that there is mystical union between our smiles and tears. It was Jesus who wept, yet talked about 'My joy.' The Gospel centres in a Man of sorrows, yet the great call of the Gospel is 'Rejoice.' There are some things that seem to stand far separate, yet after all they are very closely akin.

THIRTY-EIGHTH SUNDAY

A

Evening

THE RESURRECTION

Passage to be read: John xx. 1-18.

LTHOUGH Jesus had been teaching His disciples, with increasing clearness, that He would rise from the dead, none of them had grasped the full meaning of His words. The company of Jesus had been so sweet to them that they had refused to let their minds dwell upon His death; and the hints of death and of His resurrection were so vitally connected in the teaching of Jesus, that to ignore the one fact was to reject the other. When Jesus told Martha that her brother would rise again, Martha answered that she knew he would rise at the last day. So, doubtless, when Jesus spoke darkly of His own resurrection, the disciples would dream of some far-distant hour. Long ages after Elijah had been carried heavenward, some of them had seen him on the Mount of Transfiguration. So it might be that when the centuries had run, they would meet in glory the Lord they loved so well. They could believe for some far-distant day. Their point of failure was not the future but the present. The day would come, no doubt, when Christ

would rise. The incredible thing was that He was risen Are we not all tempted to an unbelief like that? Is it not easy to believe that God will work, but very hard to believe that God is working? Strong faith not only deals with the far past, and with the years that are still hidden behind the veil. Strong faith is radiant for the present hour, and sees the hand of God at work to-day.

EARLY in the morning, then, of the first day of the

week, Mary of Magdala steals out into the garden. She had been there before when they were burying Jesus, and she had marked the spot where they had laid her Lord. Now it was dark; the sun had not yet risen ; the children in Jerusalem were dreaming happy dreams. But the Sabbath had been one of misery for Mary, and little sleep had visited her that night. And what was it that drew her to the garden? It was not curiosity; it was love. It was love with a passion for service at the heart of it-there was still something she could do for Jesus. Joseph and Nicodemus had embalmed the body. But it had been hastily done, for the Sabbath was at hand. Mary was going to complete the embalming, and she would have the quiet hour of dawn for her sad task. But who would help her to roll away the stone? That thought had been troubling her all the weary night. Her heart was full of it as she lifted the latch of her lodging, and stepped out into the chill morning air. As she entered the garden, the sky was reddening. dawn was flushing up out of the East. And she looked and saw at a glance that something strange had happened the stone, that she had been vexing herself about all night, was gone! Now often, when one trouble is removed, there comes a greater trouble in its place. We looked for peace when the thing that vexed us vanished, and instead of peace we were plunged in deeper sorrow. So Mary, instead of rejoicing at what

The

she saw, was launched out upon a wider sea of agony. It flashed on her in a twinkling that the body was stolen. Under cover of night her Lord had been taken away. She dropped the spices and ointments she was carrying. There were other women there; Mary forgot them. She hurried back through the streets of the wakening city. Breathlessly she told Peter and John what she had seen. And then we read how Peter and John ran out, and how Peter impetuously pushed on into the tomb. And there were the grave-clothes lying on the stone slab; and on the stone pillow, raised a little above them, the napkin, still coiled in a circle as when it bound His head. The linen clothes, weighted with spices, had sunk flat; but the empty napkin kept the form of the Saviour's brow.

THEN follows the appearance of the risen Lord to Mary. It was not to Peter that Jesus first appeared. It was not even to John, 'whom Jesus loved.' It was to Mary, out of whose heart Jesus had cast seven devils; it was to Mary, who loved much because much had been forgiven her. After discovering that the grave was empty, the disciples had gone away home again (v. 10). But Mary, whose home had been the heart of Jesus, could not tear herself away from the garden and the grave. It was desolation to think that Christ was lost. Not even the white-robed angels could console her. We are never so sure of the depth of Mary's love as when we see her weeping by the tomb. A great scholar, in treating of the resurrection, points out the different features emphasised in the accounts of the four evangelists. Matthew dwells chiefly on the majesty and glory of the resurrection. Mark insists upon it as a fact. Luke treats it as a spiritual necessity; and John, as a touchstone of character. And when we see Mary weeping in the garden, overwhelmed with her unutterable loss, we feel that here is the touchstone of her character. In the