fession (as was David's) for sin is noble and good. Humble persistence and a steady resolve to amend, is the sign of a melted heart eager to atone for the past; but is not the snowdrop most clear, because most innocent and most pure? Never think a knowledge of evil to be grand and manly. It is neither grand nor manly. Never regard the curbing of self, the strong restraint of evil passion, as hard and irksome. You hear people say, "We long to see the world." If you mean GOD's world, God's flowers, and trees, and sea, and mountains; if you mean God's world of intellect whereby man can fashion noble books, noble pictures, noble deeds; if you mean GOD's world of noble speech, noble society, noble love—then long, if you will, and it will be well with you, but if you mean the world without GOD, the world that runs after excitement that never satisfies, the world that offers pleasures that bring no true happiness, the world that worships self as its God, then long not for this, or it will be ill with you. Even in this life, it is so desperately hard to retrace lost ground. The greatest French novelist of the day has described a man who was a convict, and who having escaped from prison roams about in France, constantly pursued by the police, and ever in fear of being taken. He has set before himself a better life, a giving up of the old bad ways of stealing and murder-He in his disguise grows rich and honoured in a country town in France, and is made Mayor.

All at once he is discovered, and

has to fly, he lives disguised in Paris, and there does many acts of charity, and all he can for the poor. Once more the police find him out, and to his last hours he lives in dread of being once again thrown into prison.

Jean Valjean, the convict, found it very hard to whitewash his sins over and to acquire peace even with the world around him. So it is with all of us, good is it for us, if along the narrow way that leadeth to life, we only here and there wander off in quest of flowers that prove briars, to pick sweet berries that are rotten and foul. But how unspeakably better if we can (as far as lies in us by GOD'S help) keep along the road all the way with our eyes fixed on the Cross and Him Who hangs there, looking forward only, neither to right nor left. It is true, with David to say, "Blessed is he whose unrighteousness is forgiven." It is more true with David to say, "Most blessed is he in whose spirit there is no guile."

"I CANNOT find words," says a great writer and thinker of to-day, "to express the intense pleasure

I have always in finding myself at the foot of the old tower of Calais Church. . . . It stands with no complaint about its past youth, in blanched massiveness, gathering human souls together under it. The sound of its bells for prayer still rolling through its rents and the grey peak of it seen far across the sea, principal of the three (peaks) that rise above the waste of surfy sand and hillocked shore -the lighthouse for life, and the belfry for labour, and this for patience and praise." May we not say of this with Jacob, "This is none other but the house of GOD, and this is the gate of Heaven ?” Or, again, come to the porch of the little village church with its old embattled tower, its windows half hidden by ivy, its small troop of worshippers in simple attire, entering the house of GOD as "a haven where they would be" for a brief hour, away from the plough and the labour of sheep and oxen. See the family of the village gathered round to pray and praise, far away from the dust and bustle of the town world, asking for blessings on their quiet homes, their parson, themselves, and all they love,—ay, and in this hour of service to GOD sharing in prayer with the larger life beyond sound of the village bells, and breathing for a little while in the hymn of worship mounting from each village spire, each town church, each lofty cathedral in the land, to the ear of our one FATHER.

Or yet once more, turn from the gay streets of Paris into yonder quiet church on a weekday, when

the world without is busy in its holiday, and chancel and aisle are a cool retreat, where we may enjoy a little space apart and think of God. It is getting dusk, and the labour of to-day is well-nigh over. See the market woman or the labourer enter for a moment, and laying down the basket or the load of labour beg GOD's blessing, and go forth in the strength of that prayer better men and women, for at least a little space.

Or, lastly, stand in GoD's great cathedral of Nature at eventide, when the last flush of rosy day has ebbed, and night comes over the sky; out come the stars one by one "in their courses;" and out of the womb of the dark tabernacle of cloud issues the moon, wrapping hill and dale in her silvery veil, and casting a broad path of liquid beauty on the ocean. Arcturus and his sons come forth with Orion and the sweet influence of the Pleiades. "This hath GOD done, and we perceive that it is His work."

To sum up then these four scenes of GOD'S presence: GOD is in the lone, grey-headed pile of Calais Church; in the quiet village kirk; in the house of prayer in Paris streets, in the still evening spread everywhere. If we then arise, and go to our FATHER, He is not far from any one of us; nay, He is in our midst; and yet from the very nearness, we ofttimes miss Him. We look for Him enthroned in a cloud of glory: we pass Him by in the lilies of the field and the grass that we

tread on: we stand gazing into Heaven in an in

eyes for the hill of

And yet this know

spired rapture and have no misery and sorrow at our feet. ledge that GOD is everywhere is not enough to satisfy my hunger; my jealous soul cries out for a GOD for me. I must enter into my closet, and shut to my door with a GOD to Whom I can pour out my every thought, and hope, and prayer, be it never so feeble, never so small. The little child smiles upon all, is willing to be caressed by all, accepts toys from this one, and a kiss from that one, yet it is for his father's look of approval, for his mother's smile of tenderness that he turns in real concern, seeking a place to hide his little trials and troubles. The prodigal son is hugged to every breast, and is welcome everywhere; but his heart will back to his father's house, to the old home, to the only love in the world worth having: "I will arise, and go to my father."

O the largeness and exact beauty of GOD's great and most excellent law! O my GOD, give us grace every one to worship Thee aright one with another in the great congregation where with all men in the communion of saints on earth, we bless and thank Thee for a life laden with mercy, as also to whisper to Thee our inmost heart, the very marrow of all our life in this world and the next.

First, to-night I would say a very few words on GOD as our FATHER meet to be worshipped openly, and in temples made with hands; and, secondly,