into His bosom like the nestling bird, serene in the possession of an object upon which it can pour its wealth of love. Rest in acts of labour-for labour is in itself a blessing. Rest in the endurance of trial-for there shall be breathed a spirit of chastened resignation that will charm the anguish out of pain. Rest in the mortal struggle-for the enemy shall be beaten from the field, and there shall be sunset splendours in the western sky, and the departing soul shall glow in that strange light of eventide. And then rest at last, fect rest," the rest that remaineth." Tears shed over the corpse, wailing at the solemn funeral, nights of weeping for the living; but for the dead angelic welcome and divine recognitions, a coronation and a home, and voices from heaven assuring the listening earth that they are blessed. "Even so, saith the Spirit, for they rest from their labours, and their works do follow them."

the per

The Power of Association.

Such is the power of association in the human mind, that we cling with fond tena

city to the belongings of those we love, and cannot part from them without a pang. A faded flower coming suddenly into sight can thrill the soul of a strong man, and break up his fountain of tears, just because in the long past some dear hand touched and nursed it: the hand is dust, perhaps, but the flower is a hallowed thing for ever. The books we read, the games we played, the garden in whose shrubberied walks we gambolled, the pictures which, to our conscious hearts, seemed to follow us with their eyes, and frown upon us because of some meditated wrong, the old arm-chair in which the mother sat, the river by whose banks we strayed, wondering where it went to,-all these, and a thousand other things that we look at still with a silent heart, and through the magnifying glass of memory, oh, how much greater hold they have upon us than mightier things that have happened since! Mankind universally confess this power, and yield themselves irresistibly to its spell. Many a hard-lived man of business carries from the exchange to the home, and from the home to the exchange again, those honoured memories and attachments that would startle the busy world if it could

only get a glimpse into the heart. There is a chair in his household always vacant to other people, but never vacant to him; there are steps upon the stair that only he can hear; and there are dear and blessed voices like those of angels, not palpable to human sense, but always ready and always present to greet and welcome him.

The Gospel Trumpet.

Now, brethren, are you going to listen to the voice of the trumpet, or to shut your ears to-day, refusing to hearken to the voice of the charmer, charm he never so wisely? There is no distinction in the sound. It is a blast of freedom to every man. But sometimes when the trumpet sounds, you know it sounds to soldiers whose pulse it makes beat quicker, as they prepare to gird themselves for the battle, and it sounds to cowards and traitors. In which rank are you?-soldiers of the cross, who fight the battle, or cowards who flee, or traitors who plot? Don't put that question away, for the gospel trumpet is sounding in the hearing of every one of

you, and you will have to answer by and by for the way in which you have received it.

It is not merely a professional thing. The trumpeter does not flourish his trumpet for nothing. He flourishes it that men may prepare for the battle. There is a purpose in it. There is a meaning in its blast :

Oh for a trumpet voice

On all the world to call !'

The Common Salvation.

The gospel river of life does not branch out into divers streams. There is not a broad sweep of water for the rich, the intellectual, and the cultivated, and a little scant runnel where the poor may now and then come and get healed by the side of its precarious wave. There is no costly sanatorium beneath whose shade patrician leprosy may get by itself to be fashionably sprinkled and healed. Naaman, with all his retinue watching, must come and dip and plunge like common men in Jordan. There is no sort of salvation except the one ransom and deliverance, that is purchased for rich and poor together by the sacrifice of

the Lord Jesus Christ; and the poor beggar, his garment ragged from the havoc of a hundred storms, and his flesh bleeding from the ulcers of a hundred wounds, may dip eagerly into the same Bethesda, and emerge unscarred and comely as a child. Oh, there is a keen, loving, winsome insight, so to speak, in the religion of Jesus, which constrains it to furnish the amplest and most bountiful provision.

Spiritual Worship.

Do not think for a moment that by frequenting places that have an odour of peculiar sanctity, you can alone acceptably worship God. Have you a contrite heart? Then that can consecrate the meanest place on earth. It does not matter where the congregation may gather, only let them be a congregation of faithful men, yearning for truth, ready to make any sacrifice to obtain it, and that God who is everywhere present will reveal Himself in blessings wherever they may choose to assemble. They may crowd in the solemn minster, and while the organ peals out its alternate wail or psalm, to them it may