rightly to its side begins then to say in the very flowing of his tears, "O grave, where is thy victory?" We know the world exclaims, no repetition of the trial can make it less bitter to the soul. No familiarity can make the angel of affliction appear otherwise than as the messenger of grief. We may not take away its sadness, or save from all its agony. It is of the "new heaven" of the soul, the heaven to which none upon the earth perfectly ascend, the beloved disciple speaks when he says, "God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be neither sorrow nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain!" Only the first opening beams of that bright day of unbroken peace may visit us now. Yet still, that opening beam may come. One true reception of the lesson of change begins to place us above its power. And whoso ever doth not find it so, in the confession of his present darkness, exposes his previous unfaithfulness. He who has looked once upon the sepulcre in self-renunciation may see the linen clothes lying, when called thither again, as with the apostles who went to the tomb of the risen Jesus. But never can it be again as of old, the place of death. He may bedew its sod with many tears, but light is beaming from it all the while, shining through the tears, making them an aid in forming the bow of hope. Why should I not fear when no such process begins in my deep experi

ence? Thou tried, yet not instructed soul, chastened, but never blessed, then is there cause to fear thy fancied renunciation was a dream, and thy lamp may not be found trimmed and burning when the bridegroom cometh.

There is an unfathomed wisdom in that word of Jesus, in all its applications, praying not that his disciples "should be taken out of the world, but kept from the evil." Christianity knows nothing of the spirit that would shrink from any form of sacrifice, or veil anything of its nature or greatness. It does not conceal one piercing point in the crown of thorns it may place upon the brow of the tried in heart. It does not seek to array the cross in flowers. There is but one unvarying word in those declarations of discipleship, sending such a chill of fear to all partial self-renunciations. It is ever the same, "Take up thy cross and follow." There is but one spirit in the Redeemer's own hours of suffering. He always refuses the wine and the myrrh. It is wisdom always. There is no abiding solace for the tried soul except in an absolute, unconditional submission. And the more perfectly it approaches that position, the more perfect is its rest. Man must seek repose in an unfaltering and unquestioning trust in God. Even the thoughts that may appear as assured hope, it is not wise to make the foundation of our repose. I may draw many a picture of the future, beautiful to the

heart. The glad scenes of recognition there, as one after another goes to join the departed ones, may awaken a thrill of rapture in the breast, in hours of meditation. Bright conceptions of the heavenly world, as our imagination paints it, may come into the chambers of grief, and be hung around its walls, almost drawing us away for a season, from the remembrance of the present sadness. And fervent desires to soar away into a rest so joyous, may fill the heart, which possibly may indicate rather a want of acquiescence in the present, than any peculiar power of faith. But although such thoughts never tempt into any want of acquiescence with the present Providence, although they may appear entirely in harmony with the clear revelations of God's love, still it is not wise to rest upon them for consolation. What indeed can all our conceptions of the modes of future being be, but feeble endeavors of finite hearts, to comprehend the ways of an infinite love? All thy brightest dreams may fail; not because God's love shall cease, but because that love shall bestow a greater blessedness than heart hath yet conceived. Rest singly, and rest forever, upon simple faith in that unfathomed and fathomless love. Rest upon that love whose disappointments of human hopes, are only infinite blessings, too great to enter into the dreams of any human hope. I will not limit that boundless benignity in my thought, by curiously specula

lating concerning its special ministries of mercy. I will not be lured into any possible forgetfulness of the full bitterness of the cup now given me to drink, even by revelling in the bright conceptions faith seems to sanction and unfold.

It is no mystery, to find Jesus never praying for his disciples to be taken from the world, or saved from exposure to any crosses it may build. It is a dread prayer at first, when we place ourselves in his point of view, and see the path awaiting them, as it rose before his thought. For the hour in the garden just passed away, the hour of crucifixion then at hand, with its bitter suffering, were only symbols to his prophetic soul of the path of trial and tears, of toils and of martyrdom, wherein his disciples were to walk. He saw the crown of sacrifice and of thorns to be platted for each true believer's brow. alleviation or escape does he pray. ly for endurance, and for victory. mystery that in his own example, and in the teaching of that example to the sufferers of every time, he waves away every draught of wine and myrrh. The great physician is too compassionate to desire any false solace to beguile us, or any superficial healing. It is because he is the Redeemer, his call to sacrifice becomes apparently so unrelenting. He would not save from any cross whose ministry would be needful, or diminish the trial of any needful cross. Ah! Christ's

Yet for no He asks onAnd it is no

love is not a weakness. And God's love, whose manifestation it is, is not a weakness also. There is a love infinitely nobler than that which seeks to outrun the wish of its object, lest its smile might cease for a season. It is the love which

wounds to heal. Do we not know that the law demanding toil on earth, and thus bringing forth energy and might in man, is a glorious proof of the Father's love? Do we not know that the Providence appointing the cross to all who have aught within the heart which needs a crucifixion, is the special token of His eternal benignity? God's love appears in the path of self-renunciation trodden by the Son of God; that path leading first through the temptations in the wilderness, and passing through Gethsemane at its close. It was the beloved Son of God who was called to walk therein. And they are dear children too, who tread a similar path of trial and of glory. For inasmuch as likeness to God transcends in worth any brief delight of unchastened desire, is here to be found that love really divine, which alone we can adore.

No prayer comes from Jesus that we should be saved from exposure to suffering, or even to the cross itself. Not to take them from the world, but to keep them from the evil, is his only petition. And none beside should ascend from our own lips. Indeed if I were wise, I should not dare to evade in any form, the trial which may