A Lent in earnest

FOURTH TUESDAY IN LENT.

REFRESHMENT SUNDAY—Continued.

"NOW there was much grass in the place." So the men sat down in orderly ranks or companies—an arrangement made by our Lord's own command, that they might be the more easily waited upon. The word used by St. Mark signifies parterres, or the orderly arrangement of the plants in a vineyard or garden, and the assembly, dressed in the gay colors which Orientals affect, must have looked somewhat like a great flower-garden. Doubtless, all faces were eagerly turned toward our Lord, as the people wondered what was coming next. The disciples gathered round their Master, amazed, no doubt, but ready to obey His order, whatever it might be and near Him, perhaps, stood the little lad who had brought the provision, his eyes fixed on that face which ever had an attraction for children. Jesus took in His hands the cakes of barley bread, "and when He had given thanks, He brake them, and began to distribute them to the disciples, and they to the people, and likewise of the fishes, as much as they would." (St. John vi. 11.) The original words seem to show that the provisions were multiplied in our Lord's hands. Here was a sudden end of all their perplexities. Here was enough and to spare, of palatable and wholesome food.

It must have been with glad hearts, that the twelve, aided, no doubt, by the disciples of John, passed around among the people bearing the unexpected refreshment. Doubtless the multitude shared in their joy for many of them were far from their homes; and the prospect of returning hungry, or possibly of spending the night supperless in the open air, could not have been very agreeable. It is no great wonder, perhaps, that as they partook of His bounty, the old idea of making the Lord a temporal ruler should have recurred to their minds. Surely one who could so wonderfully provide for his followers would have no difficulty in defying the power even of the Romans. It was long before the Lord's immediate and trusted disciples realized the fact that His kingdom was not of this world.

But the people had eaten all they needed. What next? The next command must also have somewhat surprised both the disciples and the people. "Gather up the fragments, that nothing be lost." Why this exact economy on the part of one who could, as they had just seen, produce food at will? However, the disciples obeyed without a question, and soon they had filled twelve of the satchels, which all strict Jews carried when on a journey (to protect their food from ceremonial uncleanness), with the fragments which remained of the loaves and fishes. And now their work was for the present finished. Jesus would be alone for a time; and he dismissed His immediate followers to go to the other side of the lake, while He Himself sent the multitude away. The disciples seemed to have been somewhat unwilling to leave their Lord alone, but His will was law, and they betook themselves to the boat which had brought them hither.

When the multitude had at last departed, doubtless with many a lingering look behind, He who had so cheerfully given up His own plan of rest and retirement for the sake of teaching and feeding them, departed into a mountain to pray. At last He was alone; and how grateful to His weary senses must have been the solemn quiet and dewy freshness of that mountain solitude! How dear to His heart the opportunity of holding undisturbed communion with His Father! Dear tired mother or teacher, or busy housekeeper, are your senses also weary and your nerves unstrung with perpetual din? Do you, too, long for solitude and silence? Remember that the Lord has been before you in this trial also. The most of His active life was passed in a crowd, almost always careless and unsympathizing, often captious and hostile; and His hours of devotion must be stolen from needed sleep.

   "Each pang from irritation, turmoil, din,—"

is known to Him, and He will give needed help and relief.

Our Lord gave thanks before He distributed the bread to the disciples. This was an universal custom among the Jews, and the Lord has approved it by His example. "He who enjoys anything without a blessing, robs God," says the Talmud. Yet how many Christian families are there in which grace before meat is never heard. It looks a little, indeed, as if family religion, of any sort, were to become a thing of the past. The father hastens to his business, and the children to their school, without one word of recognition for the mercies of the night; without a single petition for help and guidance through the day. The father is, or should be, the priest of his own household, to offer up their spiritual sacrifices; but how many never think of doing so! He should be their instructor in divine things; but how many never open the Bible with their children! The boys see their father busy till the last stroke of the church bell with his Sunday papers; they see the same papers or a novel taken up on his return. Is it any wonder that they come to think religion a matter of secondary importance? Is it any wonder that they think it fit only for women, since they see its outward observance left wholly to them? Oh, how many thorns are these negligent, indifferent Christian fathers and mothers cultivating for their own pillows! It is true that a boy or girl may turn out badly, however much pains has been taken with the religious training, because in this world all must make the choice between good and evil for themselves; but at least the careful, conscientious parent has not the added bitter pang of thinking "my neglect, my selfish indulgence, has made the child what he is."

"Gather up the fragments," said our Lord. He could create at will enough to feed five thousand, yet He would not have the remainder lost. With what displeasure must He not look on the lavish wastefulness of His children. Some man takes a good religious paper, or more than one. Perhaps he finds time to glance at them, perhaps not. The expenditure of a cent a week, or the sending of a child or servant, would carry that paper to some poor man or woman—perhaps to some one shut up with illness—who would be only too glad to read it. But no one thinks of that, and what might give aid and comfort to God's afflicted or hard-worked child goes to the ragman. The partly worn hose or flannel garment share the same fate, when a little of the time given to some useless bit of fancy work would make them fit to bestow on some poor body, or to help out a hospital box. I knew a lady with a family of sons. When their socks or underwear were thrown aside, she had them carefully mended and put away in a special place; and many a poor hard-working woman was helped out of Mrs. Z.'s "give-away drawer." We have no right to waste, because all that we have, whether of time or goods or talent, is not ours, but our Lord's. We are but His stewards, and it is required of stewards that a man be found faithful.

      Prov. xxxi.                        St. Luke xiv.

FIFTH WEDNESDAY IN LENT.

COMFORT.

A CERTAIN writer has said that there is no more beautiful word in the language than the word "comfort." Certainly there is none which carries with it more meanings, or one which it is harder to define. Rest from weariness, freedom from pain, security from danger, all these are comprised in the word "comfort." But these are, after all, but negative, and there is a positive side. The word often means consolation. "As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you," is God's promise to His people. (Isa. lxvi. 13.) Think of a little child waking in the dark, from some dream of terror. The darkness is all around him, with its possibilities of danger. Who knows what it may hide in those dark corners, behind those dimly seen, waving curtains? He can feel no one near him. To his excited fancy it seems as if he were alone in the universe, and he cries out in fear and anguish. But in a moment a tender arm is laid over him, a warm kiss reassures him, a well-known voice speaks his name, and he sinks to sleep again, sure that no evil thing can harm him, because his mother is there to be his defense.

So it often is with the Christian. He walks in the midst of trouble. Darkness is around and within. His purposes are broken off; his plans even for his Master's service are frustrated, and, what seems to make his trouble worst of all, he is hampered by indifference, if not by open hostility on the part of fellow-Christians and fellow-church-members. He says to himself, with David, "It is not an enemy that hath done me this dishonor; but it was even thou, my companion, my guide, and mine own familiar friend." He feels almost as if His Lord Himself had forgotten him, and he is ready to sit down in despair.

But by and by a ray of light falls athwart the darkness. It is the hour for his regular devotion, and he will not neglect it. His heart feels cold and dead, if not absolutely rebellious, but at least he can obey, and he takes up his Bible or his prayer-book, opens perhaps to the thirty-seventh Psalm, or some other like it.

He reads precious promises of help and protection, and deliverance from trouble, such as these. "Commit thy way unto the Lord, and put thy trust in Him, and He shall bring it to pass. He shall make thy righteousness as clear as the light and thy just dealing as the noon-day." (Ps. xxxvii. 5.) He is made to see that he is but tasting the edge, as it were, of that cup which his Master drained to the dregs for him. He feels that God has not forsaken him, and he is by and by able to say, "In the multitude of the sorrows that I had in my heart, Thy comforts have refreshed my soul." The assurance comes to him that the Lord will use all to His own glory and the good of His servant, and he is content to tarry the Lord's leisure.

Or take another case. The Christian is made aware that he has fallen into sin. He has spoken unadvisedly with his lips perhaps, and fears that his words may do great harm. He has given way to unjust or excessive anger, or he has been led into some worldly compliance which he now sees to have been wrong. Or, worse still, he has suddenly awakened to the fact that he has for a long time been declining in godliness, that he has been living for the world and not for his Master. He has gone out of the way into By-path meadow, and the road, which at first seemed to run close to the highway, has turned aside till he has come at least within sight of the dwelling of Giant Despair. Satan is not slow to take advantage of his fall. He tells the sinner that it is plain to be seen that he never was a true disciple. Could one who had really tasted of the grace of God so dishonor his profession? Or if he were once a child of God, is it not as plain as day that he is so no longer? Has he not come too far out of the way ever to find his path back? Will he be received even if he should return? Is this the return he has made to God for all his benefits, and can such black ingratitude ever be forgiven? Such suggestions as these drive the sinner almost to desperation. Almost, but not quite. His very agony and distress teach him how precious was that Lord from whom he has turned away, and he will not give him up without a struggle at least.

But he is not left to struggle alone. God has not forgotten His child, though that child may for a time have forgotten Him. He may leave him, or seem to leave him, to suffer for a time the penalty of his sins; for as many as the Lord loves, He rebukes and chastises. But let the sinner once accept the punishment of his iniquity (Lev. xxvi. 41); let him acknowledge that he is justly punished for his offenses, as says the collect for the day, and light begins to dawn on the night of despair. He, too, opens his Bible, and he reads such words as these, "Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow." (Isa. i. 18) "If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." (1 John i. 9.) "Him that cometh unto Me, I will in no wise cast out." (St. John vi. 37.) And so he casts himself at the feet of his crucified Lord, humbly bewailing his sinfulness, and asking pardon for the sake of that very love that he has outraged and grieved. Humbly he believes his prayer is accepted, trusting in God's unchanging promise, though he has for the present no evidence in his own feelings that his sins are pardoned. By and by the light grows clearer. He hears within a sweet voice, sweeter than any music of earth, whisper such precious words as these: "I, even I, am He that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins." (Isa. xliii. 25.) Then the Sun of righteousness riseth on His soul with healing in His wings, and it is day.

      Ps. xxxii.                        St. John xvii.

FIFTH THURSDAY IN LENT.

THE SOURCES OF COMFORT.

THE first source of comfort to the disciple in distress is his general confidence in the goodness of his Lord. "Comfort them with a sense of Thy goodness!" asks the collect for the sick and the afflicted in the prayer-book; and there is not in that whole wonderful volume a sentence more full of meaning. "My Father is all-wise, therefore He cannot make a mistake; He is perfectly holy, therefore He cannot do an unjust thing; He is perfect love, therefore He will never do a cruel thing; and He sees and cares for me as much as if I were the only child for whom He had to care." Thoughts like these come to the pilgrim, bowed down by the burden and heat of the day; and they give him courage to take up his load and struggle on toward that rest which remains for the people of God—that mansion prepared for him, and whose roofs and towers his faith sees above the clouds, gleaming in Heaven's own sunshine. To souls like this it does indeed come to pass that, going through the valley of misery, they use it for a well, and the pools are filled with water. "Their light affliction, which is for a moment, worketh for them a far more exceeding weight of glory," because "they look not at the things which are seen, but at those things which are unseen and eternal." (2 Cor. iv. 17.)

The second source of comfort to the Christian which we shall consider is the written word of God. "In the Lord's word will I comfort me." (Ps. lvi. 10.) Here is the sure holding-ground for the anchor of faith. Our feelings are the sport of every wind that blows, but the written word remains, and remains ever the same. The stricken woman whose prop and stay has been taken away, perhaps in a moment, and who knows not where to turn for help, may read in that Word that God is the God of the fatherless, and defendeth the cause of the widow. (Ps. lxviii. 5.) The invalid, wearied out with the life-long pain, which has become such an old story that people no longer think of asking about it, who feels faith ready to fail, and courage to give way under the load, to such an one comes the message, "My grace is sufficient for thee, for my strength is made perfect in weakness." (2 Cor. xii. 9.) The aged saint bowed beneath the burden of years, perhaps with no child or near friend to support his weakness and bear with his infirmities, prays, "Forsake me not when I am gray-headed" (Ps. lxxi. 16), and the Word which supplies the prayer answers it with a corresponding promise, "Even to your old age I am He; and even to hoary hairs will I carry you." (Is. xlvi. 4.) The repentant, all but despairing sinner, is told by that very righteous and holy God whom he hath so grievously offended, "I, even I, am He that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins." (Is. xliv. 22.) And again, "The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all sin." (1 John i. 7.) The backslider reads, "I will heal their backslidings; I will love them freely." (Hosea xiv. 4.) And to the child of God, striving in meekness and faithfulness to follow in the steps of his Lord and Master, and to do his commonplace, every task for Him, the words of cheer and strength are not to be counted.

The worship and ordinances of the Church are perennial springs of help and cheer to the Christian. I appeal to your experience, faithful fellow-disciples. How many times, when it has perhaps been a great effort to go to church, has not the very stillness of the place fallen like balm on your tired nerves, so that your few minutes of mental prayer have made you able to realize that you are indeed in the presence of Him who has said, "When two or three are gathered together, there am I in the midst of them"! (Matt. xviii. 20.) How often has the Psalter or the lesson contained the very words you needed! How often has the sermon or address been just what you wanted, and the whole service sent you home strengthened and cheerful to take up the burden of the week or the day! Then there is the crown of all our services—the Holy Communion. We "do not feel like going," perhaps. We have had but little time for preparation. There has been much in the week to harass and perplex us. Perhaps some slip or fall has clouded our experience, and burdened our conscience. But we know our duty, and at least we can obey. We carry our burden, whatever it may be, into the presence of the symbols of our Lord's dying love; perhaps to the very altar rail; but when we rise from our knees, we find we have left it there.

      Isa. lxv.                        2 Cor. 1.

FIFTH FRIDAY IN LENT.

THE GREAT CONSOLER.

"THE Comforter which is the Holy Ghost." The third Person of the ever-blessed Trinity does not disdain to take the title and office of our consoler, as well as that of our teacher and guide. He does not disdain to enter the lowest dwelling which is open to receive Him, nor to hold communion with the youngest and feeblest who seek His aid. It is He who opens our heart to understand the Scriptures, who directs us to the very word we need, who shows us, in some passage we have read a hundred times, a new meaning which we never saw before. It is He who inspires our prayers, and He, when our hearts are too burdened for words, makes intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered. (Rom. viii. 26.) How are we to obtain the help of this Divine Comforter? First, by asking for it. That is one of the prayers certain to be answered, whatever is refused. "If ye, then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more shall your Heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him"! (St. Luke xi. 18.) The very greatest gift of all is never refused to the poorest suppliant.

Then, when we have invited our guest, we must make our house ready to receive Him. We must open the door and be on the watch for Him. We must remember, too, that He will never share a divided throne. If we are entertaining any impure or unworthy guests—if we have set up any idols there—if there is within any chamber of imagery where we pay secret worship, as did the elders of Israel whom Ezekiel saw in his vision (Ezek. viii. 7), the guests must be turned out, the idols overthrown, the secret chamber opened to the light of God's day, before the Spirit of purity will make our heart His shrine. He Himself will purify His own temple if we consent thereto, but we must be willing, and we must have no reserves from Him.

Again, we must be willing to obey His godly motions, as the collect has it, and that with a prompt and willing obedience. This is not always easy or agreeable. One of His offices is to convince of sin, of righteousness, and of judgment to come. He does not always prophecy smooth things, by any means, nor does he always apply sweet balms. On the contrary, He is a kind but stern surgeon, who wounds to heal, and gives bitter tonics instead of soothing syrups. It is not altogether pleasant to be told that some favorite habit is a sinful indulgence; that some yielding to the customs of society is conformity to the world; some laxity of doctrine, on which we have perhaps prided ourselves as showing our liberality, is a cowardly surrender of God's truth. Nevertheless must the Heavenly monitor be obeyed, and that promptly. Otherwise His voice will grow fainter and fainter and fainter, till it ceases to be heard at all. Nay, it is possible to drive away the Heavenly visitor altogether, and then woe unto us. We had better lose every earthly friend than to be forsaken of the Holy Spirit.

It is to be feared that many Christians do not realize as they ought the blessed fact of the real literal indwelling of the Holy Ghost. They read in the Bible such words as these: "He dwelleth with you, and shall be in you." (St. John xiv. 17.) "We have received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit which is of God." (1 Cor. ii. 12.) They feel as if it were a kind of presumption to take these promises to themselves—as if the real presumption did not lie in doubting, instead of believing God's word. They read such words as these: "The spirit itself beareth witness with our spirits that we are the children of God." (Rom. viii. 16.) Yet they feel no assurance of their adoption, but go through life, as it were, with a rope round their necks instead of walking freely as God's children should, for "where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty." (1 Cor. iii. 17.)

But some one says: "I should be only too glad to obtain this blessed assurance of salvation, but I do not know how. What is the way?" The way is as plain as are all God's ways in things of practical importance to us. You have but to put out your hand and take what is freely offered you.

A vessel sailing to Brazil once saw a barque flying a signal of distress, and bearing down on her, asked what was the matter. "For God's sake, give us water! we have not had a drop for three days," was the cry from the distressed vessel. The answer was instant. "Let down your bucket and draw it up, man! You are in the mouth of the Amazon." These poor creatures had been dying of thirst for three days, though they were sailing on the greatest stream of fresh water in the world, because they had lost their reckoning and did not know where they were. So it too often is with the disciple. He walks in the midst of unnumbered blessings. The stream of living water flows at his side; the tree of Life grows beside it; yet he is hungry and thirsty, just because he will not take the things which are freely offered of God. "If ye will not believe, surely ye shall not be established." (Isa. vii. 9.)

      Ps. lxiii.                        Gal. v.

FIFTH SATURDAY IN LENT.

THE USE OF COMFORT.

"SURELY there can be no question about that!" I hear some one say.

"The use of comfort is to make people comfortable." That is one use, no doubt, but not the only nor the principal one. It is to be feared, however, that many sincerely devout people take this view of the matter. In spiritual as in worldly matters we are prone to think far too much of our own enjoyment. Some good people, indeed, measure their spiritual condition by their enjoyment. If they are happy, they think all is well with them. This is not always a safe test. We may be glorying in a very mistaken estimate of our own spiritual condition, as did the Corinthian Church, when St. Paul wrote them. "Your glorying is not good." They were mightily puffed up in their own esteem, while they were tolerating among them the vilest sins, such as even the idolatrous Gentiles were ashamed of. (1 Cor. v. 1-8.)

The use of comfort is to strengthen us for the work which God gives us to do. "The God of all comfort comforteth us in all our tribulation," writes St. Paul; and why? "That we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God." (2 Cor. i. 3, 4.) We are comforted that we may be able to console others, just as we are taught in order that we may teach others.

Dear fellow-sufferer, if in your sick-room your Lord has sent you a blessing, cannot you contrive to send that blessing on to some other sufferer? He has sent you, let us say, a cheering message by a book or paper. Can you not pass it on to some one else? He has given you a cheering thought. Can you not give a friend or attendant the benefit of it? Some one brings you a pattern for embroidery or knitting. It will do you all the more good if you use it to make a Christmas gift for some other invalid who does not enjoy as many pretty things as yourself. A lady of my acquaintance once received from a wealthy and generous friend a box of very fine forced strawberries. She sent a part of them to an old lady in a charitable institution, whose failing appetite could hardly be tempted to take food at all. The sight of a dish of strawberries in March was such a wonder that it led her to eat quite a good meal; and a year afterwards she spoke with delight of "those beautiful berries your mother sent me." I mention this as a specimen of the way a kindness may be passed on. I believe that act of thoughtful kindness prolonged for several years a useful life.

There are those who carry an atmosphere of comfort with them wherever they go. They may not be very brilliant or very accomplished, but every one is glad to see them. They have something pleasant to say. Such a person does not tell a rheumatic patient of her grandmother who was unable to feed herself for years, or suggest to one suffering from a surgical operation that people in such circumstances almost always go into a decline. (I have known of these very things being done more than once.) I once suffered for several months from the effects of a cat's bite, and I suppose that more than half the people to whom the story was told said, "I should think you would be afraid of hydrophobia!" With a nervous or apprehensive person the effect might have been serious. Oh how many heartaches and tears would be saved to invalids, if those who visit them would try to think of something pleasant and cheering to say!

God sends us comfort, not that we may sit down and selfishly, enjoy it, but that we may be strengthened for the work which is still before us, whether that work be active doing, or patient suffering, or quietly waiting on His will. Comfort is not an end, but a means, and it is much more likely to last if we use it in this way, than if we sit idly down to enjoy it. The Lord gives to all his children blessed seasons of rest and enjoyment. As the twenty-third Psalm says, He makes them to lie down in green pastures, and feedeth them by still waters. But He does not always keep us there. He sets before them many a hill to climb, many a dark valley to pass through, before we reach the land of Beulah, and the Celestial city. But the Holy Ghost, which is the comforter, will always abide with us, and we can truly say "In the multitude of sorrows which I had in my heart, Thy comforts have refreshed my soul." (Ps. xciv. 19.)

      Ps. xxxvii.                        Heb. xii.

FIFTH SUNDAY IN LENT.

THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD.

IT has been said, and I think truly, that almost any government is better than none. A good government is an unspeakable blessing—not always appreciated, I fear, by those who have never lived under any other. Think for a moment what it is to dwell under a rule where every one's rights are safe; where no one can be punished, except openly, and by due process of law; where every poor man's house is his castle; where, amid the excitement of a hotly contested election, women and children walk the streets in absolute safety: and then contrast this state of things with one in which no man, great or small, feels himself secure; where any man or woman may be torn from home and friends and thrown into prison or sent into life-long exile, with no chance of redress, and knowing that the nearest and dearest friends are utterly ignorant of the fate of husband or wife, father or mother. It seems to me a pity that those who complain so bitterly of the few abuses of a good and free government, should not for a little while try the tender mercies of a bad one.

The best government, however, being as it is the work of man, is liable to imperfection in its constitution, or abuse in its administration. How happy, then, is he who lives under a ruler who can and will do no wrong. Such a ruler is the Lord our Governor. The best of earthly governments can only legislate for classes, and even beneficent laws often bear hardly on individuals; but God's rule is that of a father, who sees in each person not only a subject, but a child; who knows the needs of each one better than himself, and who grudges His children no innocent pleasure. Is it any wonder that the Church teaches us to pray for the rule of such a sovereign as a blessing?

In translating this collect from the Latin original, the reformers have substituted the words "Thy people" for "Thy family," thinking, probably, that the word corresponded better with the idea of government. But, after all, a family needs a stable and just government as much as a state, and it is as a family that the Lord rules his people. The state lays down an inflexible rule, to which every citizen is expected to conform; but a wise parent does not act in this way. She studies the disposition of each child, and has a different system for each one, corresponding to its temperament and needs. So it is with God's government. To Him there are no "masses." He does not drive His flock like a mercenary drover, but "He calleth His own sheep by name and leadeth them out." (St. John x. 3.) He is to each one what He is to no other. "To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the hidden manna, and will give him a white stone, and in the stone a new name written, which no man knoweth saving he that receiveth it." (Rev. ii. 17.)

The state punishes offenses against the laws with rigid severity, and very rightly. The security of the honest citizen demands such action. But it has no thanks and no praise for the obedient and loyal subject. He has but done what was expected of him. The loyal subject of God's government, on the contrary, has the satisfaction of knowing that his ruler sees his obedience, and is gratified with it. Like Enoch, he has this testimony, that he has pleased God. God notes the first effort of a little child as well as the crowning sacrifice of an Abraham, and rewards the poor negro Sunday-school teacher, trying in imperfect English to tell the little he knows about God and the Bible to some one more ignorant than himself, as He does a St. Paul preaching to the polished Athenians on Mars Hill. Surely there must be, to the believer, wonderful joy and strength in the thought that what he does gives pleas—to his Heavenly Father.

There is no escaping from the government of God. A man who is dissatisfied with the rule of the United States, or who by crime or misdemeanor has brought himself within reach of its penalties, may go and live somewhere else; but there is no getting out of this universe, which God rules in every corner. Neither can he escape by denying God's authority, or making light of His claims. The earthly commonwealth admits no such excuse; much less the Heavenly. The man may rebel furiously. He may wish that it were possible even to pull down the great Ruler from His throne. It makes no difference. He has no choice but to submit at last, but he "has" the choice as to whether his submission shall be that of the criminal on his way to the scaffold, or the glad obedience of the loving child who has full confidence in his father's justice and love.

      Ps. xcvii.                        Phil. i.

FIFTH MONDAY IN LENT.

CÆSAR'S HOUSEHOLD.

THE Lord's government, as we have seen, is that of a parent, in that He legislates, not for masses, but for individuals; and His object, in all that He does and leaves undone, is to make His children better and in the long run happier. The views and plans of the wisest parent are necessarily bounded by a very limited horizon, but the Lord sees the lives of His children from their first beginning—not indeed to the end, for there is no end, but to the farthest reach of eternity—and He legislates for them in "the whole of their duration," as President Edwards has it. It is perhaps for this reason, speaking with reverence, that Christians often find themselves in about the last places they themselves would have chosen as likely to conduce to growth in grace. We are apt to fret at this, and to think we could do somewhere else. We think if we could only attend such and such a church, or live in some other place, or attend such and such classes, we could do so much better; and, very possibly, we neglect the work that God has given us for something which is not our work at all.

There is a passage in the Epistle to the Philippians which at first sight may appear to mean very little, but which seems to me very suggestive. St. Paul, writing from his prison at Rome to the church at Philippi, says, "All the saints salute you, chiefly they that are of Cæsar's household." (Phil. iv. 22.)

Surely this was a very strange place in which to look for saints—about the last place, humanly speaking, in which we should be likely to find them. The Cæsar was Nero—a name which has become a synonym for lust, cruelty, and rampant folly of every kind; and his court was just what we should expect the court of such an emperor to be. It was the very central resort of informers, men and women practiced in every namable and un-namable wickedness of that vile age. One would as soon have looked for the bliss of Paradise in the foulest Pool of Dante's hell, as for saints in such a household, especially when the profession of the Christian faith involved no little danger to liberty and life. The persecution of Christians had not at that time reached the height to which it attained afterwards; nevertheless, every Christian was looked upon with suspicion and contempt. Their great teacher and apostle was a prisoner, chained night and day to a soldier who watched him, and his imprisonment was more than likely to end in an ignominious death. Yet, in spite of these opposing circumstances, there were saints in Cæsar's household, and, it would seem, not a few.

It seems to me that we may all learn a good lesson from this short passage. We are so apt to lay our shortcomings to the account of circumstances, which is, in fact, laying them at the door of Providence. "If I were not so much engrossed in business," says John. "If I had not so many family cares," says Jane, "I might do some Church work." "There is no pleasure in going to church and Bible class here," says another. "If I only lived in the city! We cannot expect to do much in a place like this," I heard a Christian man say. "If we had a first-class preacher and a good quartette choir we might do something." As if the gift of the Holy Spirit depended on a fine preacher and a fine choir! But we do more than this: we lay upon circumstances the blame of our own heart sins. We should not be irritable and fretful, only that there is so much to annoy us. We should not make unkind remarks and tell scandalous stories about our neighbors, only that every one does so; and so on to the end of the chapter.

No Christian will deny, if asked the question out and out, that his Father in Heaven has ordered, or at the least permitted, the circumstances of his life. Say that we are placed in a country parish, where there is little or no enthusiasm for any good cause, and where most of the parishioners think they have done their duty nobly when they have helped to keep their pastor on the outside verge of starvation, instead of the inside. Well, He places us there because He has work for us there—some work which no one could do so well as you or I. Let us try to find out what that work is, and to do it faithfully. We shall grow in grace ourselves, and no one can do that without benefiting others.

Or He has put one of His chosen ones in a place where he has no Christian sympathy—perhaps among unbelievers and scoffers. Take courage. Bad as they may be, they are probably saints themselves, compared to the men and women with whom they of Cæsar's household were brought in daily contact. You may have good work to do among them. A little leaven leaveneth the whole lump. When the Rev. Mr. Lowder entered the district of St. Peter's, in the east of London, there were not a dozen Christian men in the parish. He was hooted and pelted in the street, and on one occasion a ring of his friends had to fight for his life against a howling mob of ruffians. Every other house was a house of ill-fame; when he died, after twenty-three years' service, there was not one such to be found in the parish; and by the streets where he had been stoned and all but murdered, he was carried to his burial through throngs of weeping men and women, hundreds of whom walked miles to see him laid in the grave.

A little leaven leaveneth the whole lump. But, then, the leaven must be living and warm. Frozen yeast is no good, as every housewife knows. "I got my father and mother to come to church last Sunday," said a dear little child with sparkling eyes. "It was so nice!" He had been laboring for that result for months. He would have been one of the saints in Cæsar's household. And I have no doubt that those saints found there, were of a pretty robust and earnest description. "They" would hardly have stayed away from the gathering in St. Paul's cabin on the first day of the week because they had not the latest fashion in gown or sandal, or even to hear the court poet recite his ode, or to learn the last news from Gaul or Britain. (2 Kings v.; 1 Peter ii.)

A part of this chapter was printed in the "Kalendar."

FIFTH TUESDAY IN LENT.

THE HOUSEHOLD OF GOD.

AS has been noticed before, the reformers, in translating this collect from the original Latin, saw fit to render the word that is to say, household or family, by "people," thinking probably that the word corresponded better to the idea of government. It is perhaps difficult to see the aptness of the change, since, as has been observed, a family certainly needs governing quite as much as a state.

In three other places is the Church of God spoken of as a family. In the collect for Good Friday we beseech God to behold "this His family." In that for the fifth Sunday after Epiphany, we ask Him "to keep His Church and household in His true religion;" and again, on the twenty-second Sunday after Trinity, we beg Him to keep His household, the Church, in continual godliness. The great Church catholic, then, is to be thought of, not only as God's kingdom, but as His family. It is under this latter aspect that I wish now to consider it.

A family is not "a fortuitous concourse of atoms." It consists of a number of members, either related by blood or united by a common purpose. Now the very idea of a member is that of a part of some organization differentiated or set apart for some office for which it is specially fitted by structure or position, or both. The very simplest living creature—the very germ cell from which the lowest seaweed is produced—has its parts so distinguished, and the higher we rise in the scale, the more striking are the differences. The family is an organism, and it follows that every member of the same has his own "vocation and ministry," which nobody can fulfill as well as himself. "The Lord has chosen him." (1 Chron. xxviii. 10.) He has appointed his place and set his task before him. Surely this is a great honor.

The great trouble is that the member thus appointed does not see his work, and he does not see it, for the most part, because he will not. Perhaps he thinks his appointed task too humble. He thinks it beneath his capacity. He is too often like a certain little girl who was set by her mother to watch that the bread did not run over, but who thought it would be much finer to run the sewing machine. The result may easily be imagined. A woman who wished to undertake some Church work was invited to begin by taking a class from the infant room. She declined, saying that she would feel herself to be throwing away her time teaching such ignorant little ones. She was allowed to try a class of grown-up girls. She soon found out her mistake. She complained that the girls were always asking questions and making remarks, and at last she threw up the work in disgust, and there was the end of her aspirations after Church work. If she could only have had something congenial, she said, it would have been different.

Another church-member was fired with enthusiasm on hearing an eloquent missionary sermon. She only wished that she could go out to Africa. That would, indeed, be worth while. But when it was suggested that she might give of an abundant wardrobe to help fill a missionary box, she rejected the idea with some tartness. She did not take so much pains with her things, to give them to a common negro preacher's wife!

There are several inconveniences resulting from this unwillingness or inability of the members of God's family to recognize and do their own work. One of them, and that not the least, is the loss to the member himself—a loss of opportunities of usefulness, and of growth in grace. The member which is never used in its appropriate office loses its vigor, and often becomes paralyzed beyond recovery. We have all heard of the East Indian devotees, who hold their hands above their heads till they grow into that position, and cannot be taken down; and I have somewhere read of a nun who never used her hands, but kept them clasped in the attitude of prayer till the joints became useless. We think such conduct a horrible misuse of God's gifts, and rightly; but we should do well to examine ourselves, lest we fall into the same error with respect to our spiritual faculties. But as a limb which has been partly paralyzed by misuse or disuse may often be restored by care and exercise, so no one need despair of regaining a good measure of usefulness, however faulty they may have been in the past.

Another trouble is that the uselessness of some members of the body throws additional work on the others. Everyone knows that when the skin refuses its office, the lungs and other bodily organs are overworked, and often become diseased in consequence. Think, for a moment, what would be the effect if the work of any ordinary parish were fairly divided among those who were able to do their share, though that share were ever so little. Suppose, for instance, that every woman who is able should lay by two cents a week for the women's auxiliary, and should devote one hour a week to working for it! Suppose that every man capable of teaching a class of boys should next Sunday offer to do so! Suppose every church-member who has not a valid excuse should be ready to undertake any piece of work pointed out by the rector! A venerable saint of God once remarked that there were in almost every church two classes of willing members—a small class who were willing to do all the work, and a large class who were willing they should. How would the labors of the first class be lightened if the second class would awake to their duty!

Dear friends, let us examine ourselves whether we are doing our duty as members of the Church, which is the Lord's body. Let us see whether we have been shrinking or standing idly aside, and in the way of others, as idle folk almost always are. And if we find, after honest inquiry, that such has been the case, let us resolve that it shall be so no more. Let us ask forgiveness for all that is past, and with humility and docility strive hereafter, in the words of the catechism, "to do our duty in that state of life to which it shall please God to call us."

      Neh. iv.                        Rom. xii.

SIXTH WEDNESDAY IN LENT.

THE HOUSEHOLD OF GOD.—Continued.

ONE of the principal duties of the members of the household or family is loyalty—faithfulness to their head and to each other. The word covers a great deal. So far as our Great Head is concerned, it means obedience first of all—constant, unquestioning, cheerful obedience. That, and that alone, is the true test of our love; as He Himself tells us: "He that hath my commandments and keepeth them, he it is that loveth Me." "He that loveth Me not, keepeth not my sayings." (S. John xiv. 21-24.) We are to obey, not when we feel like it, not when it is easy, not alone when we are in the society of fellow-disciples, but at all times, and in all places. Without such loyalty, no protestations of affection, no outbursts of enthusiasm, no efforts of church or missionary zeal, are of any value in the sight of our Master.

We are "to keep and 'seek for' all the commandments of the Lord our God." (1 Chron. xxviii. 8) We are to study His written Word diligently, and not only so, but we are to watch carefully for indications of His will in our everyday lives for occasions of obedience and service. There is not one of us but can see, on looking back, a hundred occasions of doing God service, which we have allowed to pass unimproved simply from the want of watchfulness. The little events of our daily lives are so many angel messengers bringing words from our dear Head, but too often we do not see their lovely faces, because we never look at them till they have passed us by.

The path of obedience is not always made smooth and easy for us, any more than it was for our Leader. The gate is strait, the path is narrow, the hills are high, the waters deep. It was when the disciples were crossing the lake in obedience to the Lord's command that they met with the storm. It was when they were laboring in His cause that they were to be scourged and stoned and slandered by the very people they were trying to benefit. Our very carefulness and zeal for Him may lead us into collision, yes, even with our fellow-servants. But what then? The disciple is not above his Master, nor the servant above his Lord. He has never promised us an easy journey. It is much that He has placed in our way many a living spring and many a flower and shady tree, and that He shows us, from time to time, from His Delectable Mountains, a view of that Celestial City which is to be our journey's end.

We are to be loyal not in deed only, but in word as well; and, strange as it may sound, I believe this latter kind of loyalty to be rather more rare than the former. There are many disciples who will obey the Master, often at a great sacrifice, who will never open their lips for Him. They will hear His name lightly spoken of, His claims derided or denied, and never open their mouths in His defense or to assert their own faith in Him. They will believe Him to be the only way of salvation, and yet never make one effort to bring to Him their servants, their work-people, even their own children. An officer who should behave in this way where the honor of his flag was concerned would have the straps torn from his shoulders. We need not sound a trumpet before us, nor make any parade of our own goodness; but we can, and we ought always, to own our allegiance to Him, and to speak for Him. And to the end that we may do this, we must take care to walk so that our lives shall not contradict our words, and that we may speak from our own experience. "We have seen Him!" is the argument which no infidel can answer.

      Is. lviii.                        S. John xiv.

SIXTH THURSDAY IN LENT.

THE HOUSEHOLD OF GOD.—Continued.

THE members of a family or household owe a duty, not only to their head, but to each other. They are bound in honor to help one another when help is needed, to sustain each other in trials, and to bear each other's burdens; and the honor of one is the honor of all, and the shame of one is the shame of all.

So it is in the Church, which is the household of God. We are members of one body, and so of each other. If one member suffers, others suffer with it; and not one can grow in spiritual grace and strength without directly or indirectly benefiting others. If one member is poor or afflicted in mind, body, or estate, his fellows are bound to help him. If he be assailed with slander or detraction, the others are bound to defend him; and so on to the end of the chapter.

I suppose that no one—certainly no church-member—will deny that these words are true in theory; there are many, thank God, to whom they are true in practice. Would to God they were so to all! But, alas! to how many are those with whom they worship on Sunday, with whom they kneel at the chancel rail even, of no more real interest than the horses they pass in the street. How many will sit next to a person in church for years, and never exchange a greeting. How many actually look down on their fellows who work for a living, or who are not of their particular set! A woman has been known to object to the formation of a church guild because "it would bring in everybody on an equal footing. We would rather confine the thing to our own set." It is to be hoped such extreme instances are rare; but that rector or church worker is exceptionally happy who has never found his efforts for the good of the parish hampered by such feelings and prejudices.

Again, a woman in poor or even moderate circumstances will not go to church herself, or send her children to Sunday-school, because she cannot dress herself or them as well as somebody with twice her means. She is always looking out for affronts, and resents every kindness and attention as an attempt at patronage.

Nor is this the worst. Members of the same church will not be content with neglect or mere passive envy. They will actually try to injure one another. It is a shame to have to say it, but it is true. A man or woman will kneel at the altar with another, and partake the emblems of their dying Saviour's love. They will do this, and then, before they are fairly out of sight of the church door, will repeat a scandalous story to that person's disadvantage—a story which they do not know to be true, and which there would be no use in telling if it were. Two communicants will quarrel, and keep up a grudge for years. I have known a person leave her parish church and go to another because, as she said, she could not go to the communion with such an one; as if the Lord's body were divided into parishes! So the Lord is shamed and wounded in the house of His friends, and the world says, ironically, "See how these Christians love one another!"

Oh, dear friends, fellow members of Christ, saved by the same infinite love and pity, washed in the same atoning blood, ought these things so to be? Are we not fasting for strife and debate when we pretend to keep Lent? Have we not all one Father? Has not God created us? "Why do we deal treacherously, every man against his brother?" (Mal. ii. 10.) Can the eye say to the hand, "I have no need of thee!" or, again, the head to the feet, "I have no need of you!" (1 Cor. xii. 21.) Can we wonder that the world does not care for the Church, while it sees the members of the church so indifferent, to say the least, to one another? Oh, let this holy season see every grudge renounced, every feeling of envy or pride put away, every quarrel made up! Let the blessed feast of Easter see us working and praying and loving as one in our risen Lord! So shall we be meet partakers of that Holy Table. So shall the power of the Church for good be increased a thousand-fold, and the Lord pour out a blessing till there shall be no room to receive it.

      Mal. ii.                        1 Cor. xii.

SIXTH FRIDAY IN LENT.

THE HOUSEHOLD OF GOD.—Continued.

WE must never forget that we are members of our Lord's great family, wherever we may be. The earthly family tie is not broken by absence, by distance, or even by death. The brother in California, the father on the distant frontier, are the brother and father still, followed by faithful prayers, by fond wishes, and remembered with tender tears at every family anniversary. Even though the wanderer be a prodigal as well, though it come to this, that his name is never heard, yet he is not forgotten. His place is empty, and must remain so, because it can be filled by none but himself. He may have forgotten his duty and renounced his family name, but the tie of blood is still there, and he cannot break it if he would.

It is so in the Household of God. Once a member, always a member. We may wander away, we may ignore our duties and forget our birthright; like the prodigal, we may journey into a far country and waste our substance—which is not ours, but our Father's—with riotous living; but though rebellious, we are His children still. But not to speak of that case at present, let us look a little at one or two others. You, my friend, have not been to church in months, perhaps years. You are shut up by illness or infirmity, and cannot go into the house of the Lord. It is a great misfortune, no doubt; and yet it is not as bad as it might be. You are not cut off from the Lord's family, nor even from the services of the sanctuary. With your Bible and prayer-book you can follow the Church services throughout the Christian year. Some kind friend will keep you informed of the work that is going on in the parish, and you may perhaps be able now and then to give it a little help. Your church paper or missionary magazine will tell you the news of the Church at large, and you can at least follow with your prayers the good enterprises of which the time is so full. And if you cannot go to the Holy Communion, your pastor will gladly bring it to you. It is a wonder to me that invalids do not oftener avail themselves of this great privilege. Many persons seem to think it a service reserved for dying hours. "Has your sister had the Holy Communion since she was sick?" was the question asked of an intelligent English woman. "Oh, no!" was the answer, in a tone of surprise, "we do not think her in any danger." It is to be feared that too many look on this ordinance as a kind of magic rite, by which they are somehow to be bewitched into Heaven at last, however they may have neglected it in their lifetime.

To those who are by absence deprived of the services of our Church I would say the same. Never allow yourself to forget your church ties, any more than you would forget your family relations on account of absence, but cherish them all the more. I would not have you stay away from the public worship of your fellow-Christians, or refuse to help them in their good works. On the contrary, I would have you assist them in every possible way, and maintain the most friendly relations with them. But never, never forget your own household of faith. If possible let no Sunday or holy day pass without joining in her worship. Work for her, pray for her, speak for her, at all proper times. How often has it happened that one such faithful member has been the seed from which has grown a vine bearing fruit unto eternal life! You cannot be deprived of all church privileges so long as you have your prayer-book, and if you use faithfully what you have, the Lord will send you others. Above all things, never allow yourself to forget that you are a member of the Lord's body.

It is possible that this book may fall into the hands of some one who has forgotten his birthright, who, like the Scripture prodigal, has gone into a far country, and is trying to satisfy the hunger of his soul with the husks of this world—with money or land, or low, vile pleasures fit only for swine. To such an one let me say, your place in your Father's house and heart and table is still open to you. No one has taken it. No one ever will take it. It stands waiting for you, and unless you come home to occupy it, it must stand forever empty. Oh, my brother, my sister, remember that you are still God's child! You must be so, you cannot help yourself. Rebellious you may be, disobedient, ungrateful, lost to love, even to shame; you are still the child of God. Even though you have never been baptized in His name. He created you, and He has cared for you all these years. Return, then, to His House and His love while there is yet time, lest at last the door should be shut, and you be left to yourself, an orphan in the universe.

      Dan. iv.                        St. Luke xv.

SATURDAY BEFORE PALM SUNDAY.

THE ALABASTER BOX.

THE selections of Holy Scripture set forth for the days of Holy Week are so abundant and so important that any one who studies them as they deserve will have little time for any other reading. * I propose, therefore, merely to glance at some one event of each particular day, following the chronology adopted by Dean Farrar.

* For the same reason I have named no selections from the Bible.

After the excitement which followed the raising of Lazarus, our Lord withdrew from Jerusalem to a little city called Ephraim, on the edge of the desert, where He seems to have spent some weeks in quiet and restful retirement with His disciples. Six days before the Passover He returned to the neighborhood of Jerusalem. He did not, however, enter the city immediately, but betook Himself to the little village of Bethany, the home of His chosen friends Mary and Martha, and their brother Lazarus. It was at a supper made for their honored guest that Mary's full heart overflowed in that offering which has made her name sweet through all the ages, and on which her Lord bestowed the emphatic commendation, "She hath done what she could."

She hath done what she could! She gave her Lord the very best of all that she possessed—the alabaster vase of precious perfume, costly as gold; an article of luxury, even with the rich. Are we doing the same? Do we give Him the best of our time, our means, our labors? Or do we, like the covetous Jews rebuked by the prophet, offer Him only that which no one else will thank us for? "Cursed be the deceiver who hath in his flock a male, and voweth and sacrificeth unto the Lord a corrupt thing." (Mal. i. xiii.)

She hath done what she could! If she had been able to offer no more than a bunch of sweet herbs gathered in the fields, we cannot doubt that the offering would have been as acceptable to the Lord of earth and sky as the costly ointment. He to whom belong the cattle upon a thousand hills was as well pleased with the turtle doves—the sacrifice of the very poorest—as with the oxen and sheep of the prince in Israel. Let us never hesitate to give what we can because the gift is small.

She hath done what she could! It was her love which made the offering acceptable. She first gave herself (2 Cor. viii. 5), and the rest followed, as a matter of course. Let us honestly offer and present to the Lord ourselves, our souls and bodies, our powers, our very weakness and hindrances, and having done so, let us, as some old divine says, "keep ourselves on the altar," taking back nothing of all that we have given. The altar shall sanctify the gift, and make it as worthy of our Lord's acceptance as was Mary's box of precious perfume.

PALM SUNDAY.

CHILDREN IN THE TEMPLE.

THE great event of the day was over. The Lord had come to Jerusalem, fulfilling the words of the prophet. His had been a triumphal entry, and for a little time it seemed, indeed, as if the world had gone after Him. Only He Himself knew how evanescent would be the feeling in his favor. Only He knew that some of the very tongues which had cried "Hosanna!" would in no long time be as ready to cry, "Crucify Him!"

But there were other voices—innocent voices—to which the Lord could listen with delight. The little children in the temple, who had followed Him thither with their parents—possibly also those employed in the musical service—continued to repeat the shouts of the multitudes on the Mount of Olives, and the spacious courts resounded with their shrill hosannas. His enemies were all the more enraged, and would have silenced them, but the Lord refused, and justified their action. "Yea, have ye never heard, Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings Thou hast perfected praise"?

Nowadays the children's place in the temple is too often vacant. One sees but seldom what was once the most common of Sunday sights—the long, orderly rows of children, big and little, filling the pews on Sunday. I cannot recollect when I first went to church, but I well remember what a deprivation it was to be kept at home. If the morning service was thought too long for the very little ones, they were taken in the afternoon. But the afternoon service has been turned into the evening, when the children cannot come out (it being considered by careful mothers much more dangerous to take them to church than to dancing-school); and at the morning service the clergyman may look over twenty pews and not see half a dozen children.

Surely this is not right. Surely the praises of the little ones are as acceptable now as they were on the first Palm Sunday. Children soon learn to understand and join in the service. I shall never forget being, many years ago, in a church where the responses were made so faintly that one might think the worshippers were afraid some one would hear them. All at once, in the midst of that cold, dying murmur, arose distinct and clear the voice of a little child saying in devoutest accents, "Good Lord, deliver us." All through the Litany the sweet little tones were heard, and it was curious to hear how others near him found courage to open their mouths.

Dear friends, let us take the children to church. Let us not deprive them of their birthright. Their place is in the Sanctuary as well as ours, and they will soon learn to consider worship a privilege. They will learn to love God's house when they are young, and when they are old they will not depart from it.

MONDAY BEFORE EASTER.

THE FIG-TREE HAVING LEAVES.

THE Lord had, as usual, gone out of the city to spend the night. He seems to have had no love for cities in general. He spent the dark hours either at Bethany, or, as is very probable, He had slept with His disciples in the open air, under the trees of the Mount of Olives. All Orientals are rather fond of sleeping out of doors, and a night on the grass, wrapped in their big mantles, is, to them, no hardship at all. But returning to Jerusalem early in the morning, He was an-hungered; and seeing a fig-tree having leaves, He came to it, if possibly He might find fruit thereon.

The time of figs—the general harvest—had not yet come. But this particular tree had put on its summer dress of leaves; and therefore it was reasonable to expect that it should also bear fruit, since the fruit of the fig-tree always precedes the leaf. Our Lord might have expected to find some of the small green figs which there often come to perfection in April or May. * But the tree was barren. It had not even remaining any of the large purple fruit which hangs on till the next season. It was barren now; it had been barren the year before. And so the Lord pronounced its condemnation. "Let no fruit grow on thee henceforth forever."

* NOTE.—Thomson, author of "The Land and the Book" (which ought to be in every Sunday-school library as a book of reference), speaks of eating the little sweet green figs as early as April.

Is there a possibility that one of us who have followed the Church services all through this holy season may be, after all, like this fig-tree? It is possible that we may be like the empty vine described by the prophet—empty because it brought forth fruit only to itself? (Hos. x. 1.) Oh, let us look to it, lest our Lord, seeking for fruit and finding none, may pronounce against us also the awful sentence, "No fruit grow on thee henceforth forever."

TUESDAY BEFORE EASTER.

THE HOUSE LEFT DESOLATE.

OUR Lord had visited the temple for the last time. He had silenced all his enemies; He had frustrated all their deep-laid plans to entangle Him in His own words. He had poured out on the Scribes and Pharisees those terrible denunciations which filled up the cup of their spite and fury to overflowing. Then looking about Him, doubtless, at the magnificent building, and the still great and prosperous city with its crowded inhabitants, His heart of love and pity overflowed once more, as it had done at the time of His triumphal entry. "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets and stonest them that are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not." And then came the saddest words of all. "Behold, your house is left unto you, desolate."

Our Lord never entered the temple again. It stood in its majesty for many a year, untouched by any outward enemy, throwing back the sunbeams, a "pile of gold and snow." Yet was it as surely a ruin as when the fire that devoured it was quenched in the blood of priests and worshippers. For the Lord had departed and all the splendor was but an empty show. The house was left, but it was desolate.

Probably none of those who crowded to hear the Lord's last words, realized that they were the last. He had been going in and out among them for three years. They had become, as it were, used to seeing His miracles and hearing His teachings, and there seemed no special reason why these miracles and teachings should not go on indefinitely. Probably very few, except His bitterest enemies, had made up their minds absolutely to reject Him. There was time enough, they thought.

But they were awfully mistaken. There was no more time. The clock had struck, though they had not heard it. The Lord, whom they had pretended to seek, had come to His temple, but the rulers there would have none of Him. And so they were left to themselves, to fill up the measure of their iniquities, and to be filled in turn with their own devices in a manner more awful than the world has ever seen.

To every man and woman on earth there is coming a last time—a last Lent, a last Easter, a last Sunday, a last chance. "God had appointed a day." We know not what day, nor when it is to come, but being appointed, it is constantly drawing nearer and nearer. And when once the Master of the house has risen, and has shut to the door, it will not be opened again. God grant that at that awful time, none of us who have walked on together through this holy season, may be left outside that door to knock in vain!

WEDNESDAY BEFORE EASTER.

THE LOST OPPORTUNITIES.

WE may think of this day with tender interest as our Lord's last quiet day upon earth. He seems to have spent it in retirement with His disciples, probably among the groves of that Mount which He loved so well; not yet invaded by the foot of treachery and violence, but lying sweet and calm and beautiful with the tender tints of spring. Here He told His friends of the terrible fate which was even then threatening that temple, to whose beauty and strength they had so lately directed His attention, and of that still more awful event, also inevitable, but the date whereof was still hidden in the councils of God. At this time, too, He spoke the parables of the wise and foolish virgins, and of the talents, and gave the description of the last Judgment contained in the same chapter.

It is on one feature of the narration in this chapter that I would dwell for a few minutes. The most startling and significant thing about them all has always seemed to me this: that in every case the persons condemned were so condemned not for what they did, but for what they did not do. The foolish virgins made no bad use of their lamps. They did not willfully waste their oil for their own pleasure. They simply neglected to provide it when they might have done so. When the time came that the lamps were needed they hastened to supply the deficiency, but it was then too late. They that were ready had gone in to the marriage, and the door was shut.

So it was with the slothful servant with his one talent. He made no ill use of it. We do not hear that he drank or gambled. He was slothful—perhaps cowardly as well. So he hid his Lord's money, and was judged accordingly. The man with one talent is perhaps specially exposed to this temptation. He can do but little in comparison to others, and so he will do nothing. But if his sentence was so severe, what shall be that of him who, having ten talents given him to serve his master withal, lets them lie unimproved, or uses them for his own and others' destruction.

Again, in the story of judgment, with which the chapter concludes, those who were sent away to the place prepared, not for them, but for the devil and his angels, were condemned, not because they had ill-treated or robbed any one, but because having the opportunity to succor the Lord in the persons of His poor, they had not done so.

Do not these stories contain an awful warning? How many say, if not openly, yet to themselves, "At least, if I do no good, I do no great harm." But, let us not be deceived. The not doing good is of itself a sin, and as a sin it will surely be visited.