day and every day. Because, as we say, you have not all got that gift.

And yet there is truth in the fairy story, in the strange mixture of gifts, of mingled good and bad fortune implied in all such giving, the dread penalty of all privilege given to every human life. Will you let me try to put the little allegory in my own words, of the wonderful thing that happens whenever a little child is born, and that happened when you were born, and that made people ask wonderingly and anxiously, What manner of child shall this be?

The guardian angels of a little human life met to form for it a human soul. They meant to give to it the best gifts which even heaven could bestow. They meant to endow it with every possible good. They ransacked eternity to lay precious offerings at the feet of a little babe. No mere commonplace riches that could be grubbed from the earth were the angels' birthday presents. Each angel vied with another to add to the whole the richest gift. It was a beautiful soul. And when the eyelids opened it looked out through the unconscious eyes so clear and pure. Ungrudgingly the angels brought their gifts, but with a strange, wistful sadness in every motion as they formed that perfect soul. And here was heard a sigh, and there a sigh; so low that the

ear scarce believed it heard: but they were there a chaplet of sighs wreathing and circling round the little head, till every sigh was turned into a prayer. With one long, lingering look the angels left, and that human soul, so carefully, so tenderly prepared, was added to the world's life. But why the sadness, if they brought the very best gifts? Strange to say, the sadness was due to the fact that their gifts were the very best. If they had been set to any other task, cheerfully and gladly they would have done it. But here tears fell over the work, and all the fear that angel bosoms feel was felt for that soul. Strange gifts these, were they not, which though counted the best, were given so strangely. Strange gifts, which made angels tremble while they served.

Were they the best gifts? The very best. All that makes man man, all that distinguishes him from the beasts, all the properties so rich and precious of the human soul, were there. They poured into it power, intelligence, capacity, will, freedom, love, innocence -what more could be given? But the sighs are explained by the gifts, if you but think of them. Our birthday presents consist of things, ornaments, precious stones, a silver spoon, or a golden cradle. They are all materials which always remain the same, unless changed from the outside. But these angel

gifts were not things but faculties, which alter according as they are used, or unused, or misused.

One angel brought power, power over things, power over self, power over others to some extent; and power can minister to selfishness-is it wonder that he sighed? Another brought intelligence, which may be exalted by thought and care and study, or degraded by carelessness and thoughtlessness. Another brought will, which has to regulate the life, will which can obey good and disobey at pleasure-marvel not at the long-drawn sigh. From another there came the strange gift of freedom, which makes men as gods, which lets us taste of the fruit of the tree of good and evil, freedom which trembles at the verge of license. Another brought capacity for joy, which bears in its bosom the possibility of sorrow. A gentle angel endowed the soul with love, which can be turned into hate. The last added innocence, which the world's mire would surely smirch; and his sigh ended in the prayer that when innocence was lost, virtue, which lasts through eternity, might be gained.

Now you know of what sort these gifts are which belong to you all, and which make all who love you ask, trembling and hopeful like the angels, What manner of child shall this be?

Every gift you have, of brain or heart or soul, is

from God. It is yours because it is His. You can only avoid the danger of the gift by constantly remembering that it is His, given you for His use. It is no fairy story, but solemn, serious fact. I want you to think of all that He has given you, all that lies in your hands, and I want you to determine that you will live with the thought ever with you, that you were given back to God at your baptism as truly as John the Baptist was given; and I want to close with putting the question a little differently. If all these gifts were consigned to you, What manner of children ought you to be?

XIX

THE POWER OF ENDLESS LIFE

After the similitude of Melchisedec there ariseth another priest, who is made not after the law of a carnal commandment but after the power of an endless life.—HEBREWS vii. 15, 16.

THE author is contrasting Christ's priesthood with that of the ordinary Levitical priesthood of Israel, and at this point lays emphasis on the enduring quality of the new covenant. It is not subject to change, and decay, and death. Christ is a priest for ever after the order of Melchisedec. For one thing, the Levitical priests are men that die, and their priesthood for the time being terminates. Christ's title is not made of man, not after the law of a carnal commandment, but after the power of an endless life; and this is a guarantee of the finality of His priestly acts. The covenant, too, which He makes for His people is perfect and final. The eternal priest becomes the surety of an eternal covenant.

Thus we are justified in taking these words as applying also to ourselves, who are made kings and priests unto God through our great High Priest. We