hand. Is it because we feel ourselves so unworthy? Nay, it cannot be that; for we have never deserved one of the good things He has given to us, and His gifts have ever been measured, not by our goodness, but His own unbounded love. Whatever may have been the cause of our fear, let us pray to be forgiven for our wicked distrust, and let us have greater faith in our Father. Let us trust and not be afraid even when the showers fall; let us rest contented and happy when He covers us with summer snow.

Rain.

"How beautiful is the rain

In the hot and dusty street!"

NUMBERS of people must have felt this as the grateful and refreshing showers have fallen upon places that were white and parched for the want of it. We learn to appreciate our blessings when they have been for a time withheld from us; and when to walk about is to grow footsore and weary and to run the risk of sunstroke, and to remain within doors is to suffer from throbbing heads and great lassitude, we long for the rain at which for the most part of the year we English are inclined to grumble. But it seems sometimes as if the rain could not come. Frequently there have been signs of its approach, and we have said hopefully," Surely now we shall have some showers." But in a little space the clouds have passed away, leaving the sky blue and bright as ever. And so, when at length there came the promise that did not deceive us, when the dark clouds were cleft, and the flashes of light and peals of thunder brought with them the plenteous down-pouring of the much-coveted rain, how many hearts arose in glad thanksgivings to Him who has kept His promise, “I will give you rain in due season."

For how thirsty the earth had become. The dry, hard ground wanted much softening before it looked natural. And it was impossible to walk along the country roads

without sighing after the waters. The parched meadows, the thin grasses that seemed to have grown up as best it could without nourishment, and so far to have failed as to look most unlike the full juicy stems they ought to have presented, seem to have fainted and died of drought. Thousands of other plants could not grow without the rain, and were stunted and meagre, and almost unlovely because it would not come. But what a difference only a few showers can make! Those that fell upon the fields changed their faces in quite a short time, and seemed to put new life into every leaf and blade. Things seemed to quiver, first with eager expectation, and then with grateful joy. And as the plentiful drops came down upon myriad hands and faces uplifted to greet them we could not but think of the Apostle's words, "For the earth, which drinketh in the rain that cometh oft upon it, and bringeth forth herbs meet for them by whom it is dressed, receiveth blessing from God." It seemed indeed that even the green things of the earth knew from whom the beautiful rain came, and tried to thank Him for it.

Are there not times when many of us feel in the same condition, spiritually, as the earth before the showers came? As to bringing forth fruit, that is out of the question. We are hard and barren, and almost dead. There seems to be no feeling nor power of spirit belonging to us, and we can only sing our wistful entreaty

"Lord, I hear of showers of blessing

Thou art scattering rich and free-
Showers the thirsty land refreshing;
Let some droppings fall on me,
Even me.

But there is surely hope for us all. Will not He who noticed the silent earth, and provided for it, read over our longings and grant us what we need? Even now He is saying, "Prove Me herewith, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it."

Let us lift up our eyes to the hills from whence cometh our help. Our help cometh from the Lord who made heaven and earth. Let us hope in Him, for God shall bless us, and that right early.

Self-seekers.

ARE there such things in all the world as unselfishness and pure disinterestedness? If there are, should not we love to behold them? Would they not be refreshing sights, all the more so because of their great rarity? But where shall we look for them? In love? Is there anything more selfish than that? Love is never content without appropriating all to itself. Looks, words, deeds, must all be contributed. Besides, is it not very nearly true that a great deal of love of self is mixed up with love of others? Why do we love our friends if not that they may love us? And why is affection such a thing of joy, unless because it is also a delicate compliment to our own manifold virtues?

Shall we look for unselfishness in good deeds? Alas! when the hungry are fed, it is not always out of pure charity alone. Is there not a little self-glorification even in that? Better than the praise of others is the approval of our own hearts. More dangerously sweet than the flattery of onlookers is our own good opinion. And therefore who can say that even benevolence is disinterested? To give is a pleasant thing to ourselves as well as to the recipient; and there is a selfishness in giving.

Shall we look for unselfishness in the profession of religion? Some seem as if their only care were to be quite safe themselves. Heaven, say they, is a happy place, and we are going to it. But they give no word of invitation to their fellow-pilgrims; they feel no anxiety as to the thousands who are in the wrong path, and can therefore never reach the land of light. They wrap themselves in a comfortable garment of peace, but it does not seem to disturb their serenity that those round about them are shivering and naked, and beaten by the tempest. Do they imagine that the home to which they go is " cribbed, cabined, and confined," and that there is only room for themselves and a few of their friends? But God's thoughts are not like theirs, and surely selfishness and self-seeking cannot be pleasing in His sight.

But what a universal disease this selfishness is! We all

have it in some form or other. Some more, some less, but all a little.

And there is no doubt that, when regulated and kept in proper control, it has its uses. But let us pray to be kept from being wholly self-seekers-from looking at everything as it affects self, from putting self before right and justice and humanity, from being so devoted to self as to have no enthusiasm, no feeling, to spare for others. Of only One can it be said that "He pleased not Himself." We cannot attain to that height, but we may try—we may faintly copy, we may ask Him to teach us.

Ah, when we think of our imperfection and sin, is it not good to have a hope that one day, and in a better state, we may really be made a little like our Master? And is it not possible that we may begin to acquire it now? There is such a thing as fighting against evil, and resisting temptation. We need not be conquered by selfishness. any more than by dishonesty. We need not let it rob us of our greatness or our usefulness. Only let us pray for grace to enable us to watch for the indications of the bad spirit, and to crush it when it is manifested. The best cure for selfishness is Christianity. How can the followers of the self-sacrificing Lord be selfish? If we spend more time with Him, and think of His goodness and glory, instead of our own excellences, it will be much better for us.

Sufficient Hands.

It seems to us that we can scarcely utter a better wish for ourselves and our friends than that which is found in Deut. xxxiii. 7, and which is part of Moses' blessing of Judah, "let his hands be sufficient for him." For these our times are so full of work and activity, so crowded with need, so clamorous with cries for help and calls for labour, that no doubt many of the pressed and over-driven workers in the great field of industry feel that their hands

are not sufficient for them, and that to do all that is demanded of them they require, not one, but several pairs of hands.

One of the most uncomfortable reflections upon the part of our life that is gone, is, that we have not done nearly all that we would have done, and indeed ought to have done. And yet it has perhaps been a very busy life a life of hard work and perseverance-a full life, made so by incidents and events and successful toil. It may in reality have been better than the average, have seen more attempted and more done, and yet it has been to some extent a failure. Who of us, looking back, feel satisfied with what our hands have wrought? Who can regard the past time as perfect? Who does not feel it to be a necessary prayer, "Let my hands be sufficient for me ?

How many there are who, at the beginning of a year, as soon as the holiday-keeping and merry-making are over, realise with a sigh that they must go back to the work that is waiting in accumulated quantity for them! The strain has been loosened a little, there has been a temporary armistice, and the weapons have been laid aside, but as soon as the ringing of the bells has died into silence the arms must be taken up again, and the watch and the struggle and the fight must be recommenced. It is, emphatically, an age of long toil and short repose. If he would keep his ground every man must strive, and exert himself to the utmost. Many are feeling this to-day with regard to their businesses. A little relaxation of care and persistence soon tells. There is nothing for it but to strain every nerve, and keep on straining, or be content to fall back. There must be no giving way to indolence or even to weariness. And feeling this, and looking at the work to be done, there is need to pray, "Let our hands be sufficient for us."

But besides these things that are personal and secular, there is other work that our hands find to do. Who does not feel a very intense desire to do something for Him who has done so much for us? If we have failed in earthly things, how much more have we failed with regard to things of higher import? There are actions, and thoughts, and feelings, that we would be glad to blot out