bourer who works from morn till night in the fields, the pettiest tradesman or mechanic, these all, doing their works, ennoble their work, and are ennobled by it. There is nothing vulgar in their lives, or their work. Only then do they become so, when they step out of their due self-respect and ape the manners of those higher in social rank. And, believe me, no one is so miserable as the man who forsooth has to "kill time," who has nothing to do, who has exhausted pleasure, whose mind and soul are a blank. "Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise," preaches Solomon. And once more; 66 It is better to get wisdom than gold; for wisdom is better than rubies, and all the things that may be desired are not to be compared to it."

For God's sake, learn then that the gospel of work is a noble gospel. Let us laugh, ay, and heartily too. Let us thank GOD for, and praise Him in all His gifts. Let us enjoy our life, and the abundance of happiness smiling on every side. But I beseech you, never regard pleasure, falsely so called, as the one aim of life. Do good honest work in your generation, and leave the issue to GOD.

And secondly, and lastly, is there not much comfort in work? When the soul is sore smitten, and lies bruised and wounded beneath the load of a heavy burden, well-nigh too heavy to bearwhen nothing in life seems worth having and the

soul is wrapt up in its loss, at such times activity is a great unspeakable relief. Grasp the pain boldly; bring yourself to face the phantom of the past; confront your loss. Act, not only think. Your heart will be long sore, long away from the present life, but you will gain composure, a clear vision of what is, and what is not, and ability to see a gleam of sunshine in the very far horizon. Feeling without action is, if not barren, productive of ill. Action without feeling is harsh, if not unkind. Combine the two, and sympathy will go hand in hand with work. And in your own life, do you not feel an inward satisfaction and a quiet gladness after good work, genuine work, work well done?

Well, perhaps, after all, at the end of this sermon, you think, "this is scarcely more than an essay, an encouragement to work, a talk about work." I say in answer, JESUS CHRIST's whole life was one of work. Should you not set that life before you as a star by whose light you may walk here until you come to "where the young Child is," even in Heaven above?

But I would wish to see you one and all grow up Christian gentlemen. I do not mean, of necessity, wearing good broad cloth, nor driving in carriages, no, nor rich or prosperous, nor high in the world's opinion,-all this may or may not be good for you, but be what the old Greeks called kaλős, "beautiful in spirit." I hope I may quote the "Times" newspaper on this point. "That which

raises a country, that which strengthens a country, and that which dignifies a country, the true crown, throne, and sceptre of a nation; this aristocracy is not an aristocracy of blood, not one of fashion, not of talent only—it is an aristocracy of character. This is the true heraldry of man.” Noble words

are these, may you ever remember them! Preserve the grand character of a gentleman wherever you are, and never destroy your self-respect by falling below yourself. That boy well answered, who being asked why he did not steal some fruit, as nobody was there to see, said, "Yes there was, I was there to see myself."

Be and act always as Christian gentlemen, the servants of CHRIST, the sons of GOD, the brothers of all around you. Never think any work, however small and trifling, below you or not to be done with all your heart and soul. Do, instead of talking; work through difficulties and disagreeable tasks, so when at last the "night cometh when no man can work," when the great Master calls your name, you will say, Adsum, Here I am, and will hear these comfortable and gracious words, " Well done, good and faithful servant; enter thou into the joy of thy LORD."

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V.

ETERNITY.

"And I saw the dead small and great stand before God; and the books were opened: and another book was opened, which is the book of life; and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books according to their works."-Rev. xx. 12.

WE must all die. Man goeth to his long home, and the mourners go about the streets. Man that is born of woman is of few days, and full of trouble. This is the LORD's doing, and man cannot gainsay it, and thousands of years have not altered the old, old story.

“Kaτ0aveîv ỏþeiλerai," says the Greek poet; "Omnia debemur morti," says the Roman bard; says Confucius, "The great mountain must crumble, the strong beam must break; the wise man must wither away like a plant." Ever since the day that God created man in His own image, and placed him all holy and immortal in the Garden of Eden, men and women and children have died,— they have died on battlefields, on the lonely heights of Alma, on the quiet field of Waterloo, where the waving corn ripens over the bones of warriors; beneath the waters of the sea. Some have died violent deaths, and in their last sad hour flung themselves into the dark waters; some have

died in their beds, and been borne in sorrow to their last quiet home beneath waving trees, with the music of birds, in GOD's acre; and some sleep in JESUS far far away in distant lands where the stranger knows them not.

Yes, from the creation of man till now, till the last dread trump shall wake the sleeping spirits of the dead, man "cometh up and is cut down,” yea, he dieth, and his place knows him no more.

In speaking to you to-night, I wish very briefly to touch on the four tremendous subjects of Death, Judgment, Heaven, and Hell: subjects which now I dare say seem to you very far off, for you are in the spring-time of life. The sky of life is clear and bright above you now, but how near eternity may be to each one of you is in God's hands.

First then, as to Death,-it is a universal lot. Had Adam not eaten of the fruit, man might have lived for ever, but the sentence of death followed his disobedience. Since that time men have been born, sojourned here for a few years, and gone hence. Whence they came, and whither they are going, who can say exactly? All Nature warns us of death, the trees, the shrubs, the flowers, the animal life, in all these we see change and decay. Yes, death is universal. Yet I doubt if, as some profess, we derive much inward satisfaction, much quiet at heart, from this fact. True, men and women die around us; true, not a minute passes,