certain that if repentance arrives first in the city of Mansoul, she will speedily open the gates to faith. If I really mourn over my sins I shall soon put my trust in the Divine Sin-bearer. On the other hand, when I see Jesus to be my Saviour, and rely entirely on him, his sufferings will make me sorrow over the evil that has caused them. Taking all these considerations into account, we conceive that they point to but one conclusion. Men can go from strength to strength. Depravity is mighty, but grace is mightier; Satan is powerful, but God is omnipotent. That omnipotence he brings to bear upon our spiritual weal; he is able and he is willing so to quicken us and so to succour us in the hour of temptation, that as we add to our years we may add also to our love, obedience, and benevolence. Away, then, with all cowardly excuses! A truce to all special pleadings on behalf of our indolence and cowardice! From babes to young men, from young men to venerable men, may become our history, as it was that of those to whom St. John referred. "I hold it truth, with him who sings II. We ought to go from strength to strength.-Christian progress is a duty. We are solemnly bound to grow in grace. Of course the ground of our obligation to do this is-the will of God. He enjoins it, therefore we should aspire after and labour for it. So palpable is this, that it needs no prolonged comment here. There are, however, certain considerations which may act as an incentive to us in seeking to discharge the duty. If we do not go from strength to strength, we shall go from weakness to weakness. Nothing requires more care than reasoning from analogy. The poet Coleridge is reported to have said, "You may prove anything from analogy." In so speaking, he stated strongly what is substantially correct. Parallels are often made between the physical and the moral worlds, nor are they always fallacious. Certain great principles do unquestionably obtain in both. Albeit, there are certain very marked contrasts between them. As an illustration of this, we may mention the selfrestorative element to be found in the region of things physical. How often is nature her own physician. To quote again, "From the lips of a gaping wound a liquid flesh is poured, which, receiving nerves and blood-vessels into its substance, solidifies, and at length fills up the breach. From its shattered surfaces the broken limb discharges a fluid bone-a living cement-which, growing solid, restores the continuity of the shaft, and gives the sufferer a leg or an arm strong as before. In some of the lower animals, indeed, this power is equal to the task, not only of repairing a broken, but of even restoring a lost member." Herein there is no analogy between nature and grace. The moral wounds of men cannot heal themselves. Without Divine interposition they will rankle and extend until life is no more. The shattered soul has no power of rebuilding itself; nay, verily, the destruction is too serious for that. "Except a man be born again"-we all know that a solemn and emphatic declaration follows. Humanity has got wrong spiritually, and, left to itself, it never gets right. Christ compares our poor, sinful race to the wandering sheep that leaves fold and shepherd alike, and straggles away into the wilderness. Not without a purpose did he select that animal as a true type of man, for it is an ascertained and well-known fact that, unsought, the silly, wayward sheep does not find its way back. So true is it that the physical and the spiritual are not always counterparts. We have another proof of this, which bears directly on the theme we are pondering. A man's health of body may be stationary for a time; you may not be much more robust nor much less so than you were, say a year, two years, half-a-dozen years ago. In statu quo may accurately describe you. But let no man deceive himself. Such is never the case morally. None of us remain in the same condition; we are continually moving either backwards or forwards; we grow better or we get worse. Here, then, is a mighty stimulus to growth in grace. You must grow in something; if you are not growing in grace, you are growing in sin. Do not lay the flattering unction to your soul that if you are not advancing, you are at least maintaining your old ground. No; it cannot be, my brother. You must revolutionize your nature before such can be the case. Man is like a ship at sea; it cannot be motionless; if it is not nearing its destined port, it is being drifted in some other direction. Yes, the winds and the billows around our souls will not let those souls cast anchor. Higher or lower, you must make your choice between the two; there is no other alternative. If we go from strength to strength, we shall go from bliss to bliss. The possession of power is commonly a great source of pleasure. How is it that men make such determined efforts to obtain power? Because it gives gratification. Even in the lower creation we see something akin to, if not identical with this. The noble horse enjoys a deep sensation of pleasure as, on swift foot, it outstrips its panting rivals. The eagle is supremely happy when it conquers the angry elements, and forces its way through thunder-charged clouds. The child finds a real pleasure in its successful efforts to walk. The sturdy, robust emigrant, as he "lifts up axes on the thick trees," feels pleasure in seeing the proud monarchs of the forest fall, and in hearing the crash which tells of their overthrow. The hardy huntsman, as he lifts his weapon with unerring aim, and brings down the proud, imperial bird, feels a pleasure in his achievement. The patient student, "sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought," feels a manly pleasure as he rises higher and higher up the mountain-side of truth, and takes in at each new stage of his journey a wider and more glorious prospect. Nor is it otherwise morally and spiritually. "Blessed is the man whose strength is in thee." He who is able to see that he is making genuine progress, cannot do other than derive deep and profound bliss therefrom. To look back and see sins subdued, temptations triumphed over, sorrows sanctified; to look back and see that we are leaving the black and looming shore of evil far behind, and getting farther and farther out on the grand sea of duty, this is a source of unspeakable satisfaction. "Not once or twice in our rough island-story, The path of duty was the way to glory; He that walks it, only thirsting He shall find the stubborn thistle bursting Finally if we go from strength to strength, we shall go from earth to heaven. "Every one of them in Zion appeareth before God." As every step which those Hebrew pilgrims took brought them nearer to Jerusalem, so every right thought, feeling, deed, brings us nearer to the New Jerusalem. Holy effort is never useless. If it does not accomplish the immediate end that we hoped it would, it achieves another purpose; namely, it develops within us that disposition which qualifies us for the pursuits and pleasures of the eternal world. You may, for example, try to do spiritual good to a fellow-creature, and fail. The seed sown may fall into stony ground, or be choked with weeds. Nevertheless, your attempt has been a blessing to yourself. It is not a failure as regards your own soul. On the contrary, it has aided in the culture of such a spirit as shall prepare you for a state of being in which disappointment is unknown. Forward, then, brother pilgrims! Let us renew our courage. Let us rekindle our zeal. Let us fan the fire of our love to a more vehement flame. Never content with what we have and are, be it ours to " go from strength to strength." "Not as though I had already attained or were already perfect," must be our constant confession. Every day let us so seek to bless man and glorify God that we can truthfully say, as we lay our weary heads upon their pillows Luton. "Something attempted, something done, CONTENTED CHRISTIANS. THERE are a hundred successful men where there is one contented man. I can find a score of handsome faces where I can find one happy face -happy in all weathers, and radiant with the sunshine of the heart. I can even find a score of working, zealous Christians where I can encounter a single Christian who, under the o'erbrooding love of God, sits as contented as a robin does on its bough, singing and swinging, swinging and singing, without one trouble in its heart, or one discord in its minstrelsy. A downright contented Christian is rare, and all the more attractive for his rarity. A counterfeit contentment is quite too common. It is the offspring of in dolence, ignorance, or indifferencethe self-satisfied conceit often of the person whom everybody thinks worse of than he does of himself. When we are commanded to be " content in whatsoever state we are," we are not enjoined to be satisfied with pauperism, or with meagre knowledge, or a contracted influence, or a wretchedly defective piety. Contentment in ignorance is a sin when there is a schoolhouse within reach. Contentment with spiritual fruitlessness is a sin; I have no business to be satisfied with myself if I am leading no souls to Jesus. Contentment with a religious hope is a fearful sin, if that hope be no stronger than a spider's web. What did Paul mean when he said, "I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content"? He meant that he was perfectly willing to be just where God placed him, and to do just what God told him, and to suffer just what God laid on him, and to work out, through manifold pains and persecutions, his mighty mission to his race. He knew how to be abased and how to abound-how to be full and how to be hungry. He was not content without work, but content in his work. The young minister who is not happy in preaching Christ to a hundred cottagers, or to a hundred poor children in a mission-room, is not fit for the pulpit of a metropolitan church. If he is not satisfied to be where God puts him, let him be assured that his Master will soon "promote' him several pegs lower still. Christian contentment is consistent with the highest spiritual aspirations, but not with a single selfish aspiration. Remember that Paul was exclaiming, "I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God," at the same time that he said, "I have learned, in whatever state I am, therewith to be content." I would define Christian contentment to be the cheerful acquiescence of the mind to the will of God. It does not come from a full purse, or a stone mansion, or a prosperous lot, or exuberant health; it is from within. Its fountain is in the soul. Like faith, it is an attainment, and yet it is the gift of God. It is also habitual. He could not be called a contented man, who was only happy in a prayer-meeting, or when under a good sermon, or even under extraordinary trials. Contentment does not only hold still under the stroke of death, or the loss of a fortune, but under the annoying taunts of a churl, under the inconvenience of a long walk, a hard seat, a poor dinner, or a crying child. Contentment is happy in a cottage, if it cannot afford a three-story house. Contentment eats what is set before it, be it brown bread or white. The true Christian unspeakably rich with what feels so God gives to his soul, and with what God promises him in eternity, that he can afford to wear a coarse coat, and to travel his life-journey on foot, with just such companions as poor human nature can furnish. He wears the herb called heart's-ease in his bosom. He finds a cool spring to drink of in every vale of sorrow. He feasts on a fine prospect from the top of every hill of difficulty up which he clambers. When weary, he sits down under the shadow of the tree of life. When hungry, he takes out a sweet promise from his Bible-wallet. And so, as he trudges along his happy, heavenward way, his faith continually sings the homely song which Bunyan puts into the mouth of his brown-faced boy : "I am content with what I have, Little be it, or much; And, Lord! contentment still I crave, As I go on pilgrimage, One of the most truly contented expressions I know of was that which fell from the lips of a dying minister. He was asked whether he wished to recover or not. He replied, "Really, my friend, I do not care which. If I die, I shall be with God; if I live, God will be with me.' It may be asked by some moaning, murmuring, trouble-tormented professor who reads this brief chapter, "How shall I gain this contented spirit?" We answer by giving a few practical hints. 1. Think a moment of the mischief and the sin of discontent. It is the rust that gnaws away all of life's lustre. Discontent never removes one evil; and it embitters every joy. Discontent kills your happiness, disgraces your religion, offends your loving God. Even when on your cross of trial, it only mingles a bitter cup of vinegar and gall to make your suffering the sharper. Discontent is an ugly child of the devil, begotten in its father's own likeness. 2. Think too how much danger you escape when you escape great pros perity. Gold is often a hardener of the heart. Promotion often dizzies the brain. Wealth has made millions 66 poor for eternity. Ah, David," said Dr. Johnson to Garrick, when he showed him his superb drawing-rooms, "Ah, David, these are the things that make death-beds terrible." You do not need luxuries. Jacob never slept more sweetly, or had more heavenly dreams, than when he rested on a stone for his pillow. 3. Keep a good conscience. Guilt breeds discontent and remorse. The cheerful apostle said, "This is our rejoicing, even the testimony of our conscience." 4. Get more faith if you would be more contented. Faith sees God in everything. Faith loves to let him have his own way. Faith extracts the honey of joy out of every daisy by the wayside. It presses the wine of contentment out of every cluster of God's promises. Why should the man who has Christ in possession and heaven in expectation ever wear a wry face? 66 Why should the children of a king 5. Look on the bright side of your WAITING ON THE LORD. BY REV. THEO. L. CUYLER. "THEY that wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint." This passage from Isaiah rings like the blast of an Alpine horn. The phrase "to wait on God" implies a great deal more than mere patient passivity. There is a world of nerve in the Hebrew original. It primarily signifies to be strong-strong enough to endure. The word expresses indurability, that quality of heart which is typified by a stout piece of oak which never bends or breaks under tremendous pressure. Thence the word came to signify patience as the opposite of despondency and fretfulness. In the text from Isaiah the phrase denotes a permanent habit of mind- -a devout habit that submits to God's discipline —an obedient habit that ever says, Speak, Lord! thy servant heareth-a submissive habit that is ready to receive just what God sends, and, to bear just what burdens of duty God may lay upon it. Waiting on the Lord is a grace, just as much as the grace of loving, or the grace of faith in Jesus Christ. When I see a child on its mother's knee, with open mouth receiving such food as the mother chooses to give, I see a type of this grace; for the soul that waits on God is nourished by his living bread. When_one of my baby boys stretches out his arms for me to carry him on a walk, I see a type of this grace; for the soul that waits on God is carried by him over life's dark and dangerous places. When I see a docile pupil listening to her teacher's voice, I behold a type of the humble docility that sits down |