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frequent chain of good fortune lifts others up into the full light of the sun. The world watching the gladiators from its high seat in the circus will never reverse its thumbs against the successful man." This is largely true also in regard to the lapsed in faith and character. In our heart we despise them. How foolishly they have acted! What chances they had! What a position they occupied! What a future they have thrown away! We conclude that they deserve the dishonor and wretchedness which fall to their lot. But the truly spiritual do not reason thus. They know themselves too well-their personal weaknesses, hesitations, and narrow escapes. Think what these fallen men and women once were! All that the best of us are now-as innocent, mirthful, self-respecting, as apparently strong and secure, as full of promise and hope. Then a combination of circumstances brought out their unsuspected passions and frailties, and changed all life into shame and remorse. The haggard figure staggering from the gin-shop was yesterday a beautiful girl, as fair as the morning; the felon in the cell was only recently a trusted tradesman, little dreaming of jails; the despairing wretch, mad with vice and shame, leaping into the river, was but the other day the light and glory of a happy home; the sordid, sensual infidel has walked quite on the verge of heaven; a few summers ago the red hands of the mur

derer gathered flowers, and the face over which the hangman draws the cap was as the face of an angel. We sink mysteriously, swiftly, and deeply. The truly spiritual, remembering all this, regard themselves with solicitude, their fallen brethren with compassion. The spiritual is pitiful, being conscious that he is a man of like passions, altogether saved by grace if he is saved at all.

We are sceptical touching the restoration of the fallen. At the bottom we cherish a poor idea of human nature, and it must be confessed that there is much to justify the low estimate. We know the impotence and deceitfulness of the human heart at its best estate, and are slow to believe in those who have once been thoroughly betrayed. But this is not the attitude of the spiritual, for they know the recovering power of Christ as well as the weakness of nature. The boundlessness of the Redeemer's saving power is the joy of earth and the wonder of heaven. Let us practically remember this. We do not now lightly despair of wrecked ships. If on the rocks, we boldly essay to launch them; if broken by the waves, we ingeniously keep them afloat; and even when sunk in the depths, we grapple and weigh them that they may again plough the wave. So must we deal with shipwrecked lives. There is large hope even for those who have gone very far indeed. In one of the Con

tinental museums is a fine marble statue which was found broken into hundreds of pieces. The fragments were carefully collected, and with infinite care and patience fitted together; at length a seemingly impossible task was accomplished, and the statue stands in all its original completeness and beauty, none the worse for the smash and the long burial in the dust. It is a parable of Christ's ability to restore sadly shattered souls. Mind in whose face you shut the door! Take care what fractured vessel you heedlessly fling to the rubbish in the void! There is no heresy like that of looking with incredulity on souls gone wrong.

We feel that having done men justice they have no further claim upon us. This is the thought and conviction of the natural man; but the Having paid all other mighty debt of love.

spiritual know better. debts, we owe still the Victor Hugo boldly states the divine truth. "When I have given to each man the share that belongs to him, what remains then? It still remains to hand over the share that does not belong to him." There is in life a wide place for devotion, sympathy, self-sacrifice. When we have given to our neighbors the share that belongs to them-the necessary, the legal, the just -we must give them the share that does not belong to them-patience, forgiveness, compassion, love. Stars and crosses are granted to soldiers

not only for courage in war, but because, going beyond mere technical duty, they risked life in bringing off a wounded comrade from under the enemy's fire. So must we not merely discharge our duty in strict law and obligation, but also make sacrifices to rescue fallen comrades. Exactly here, where we transcend mere prudence and legality, comes in the very glory of life, and he who has not tasted the joy of sympathy is ignorant of the chief joy of life. It is a coarse act to set foot upon a bruised flower and crush it; it is another and diviner thing to cherish the bleeding beauty until it blooms anew: it is brutal to leave the dove with broken wing to perish; it is a work of delight to shelter it in our bosom until it again goes singing up to heaven. The really spiritual understand this. They drink in the spirit of their Master; it is the glory and blessedness of their life to follow in His steps who came to seek and to save that which was lost.

LI

THE FIRST CHRISTMAS CAROL

And there were shepherds in the same country abiding in the field, and keeping watch by night over their flock.-Luke 2:8-15.

H

ERE is the most astonishing narrative in universal literature, and yet one that has a great deal to say for itself.

I. 1. Note the singers. "And an angel of the Lord stood by them." The chief singer opened the great song," and suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host," glorious choristers of the cathedral that God built, and not man. The reality of the appearance of the celestial visitors is in evidence. The historical validity of this narrative has by some been questioned; they dismiss it as "one of the fairy tales of God." The shepherds never heard the music, never saw the angels; the whole story is the product of credulous souls and a superstitious age. But one thing is clear: the song is real enough; it is here in black and white. And what a song! It is not like the ditties shepherds pipe on reeds, not like the music of earth at all. It is the grandest song the world ever heard: more than Homeric, more than Miltonic; it is a seraph's

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