too long for us. But in heaven we shall praise Him day and night without weariness. Oh, let us pray that these Sundays may be only preparation days for that joyous, eternal Sabbath of rest and sacred employment!

Dropped.

It is wonderful how many things get dropped and lost on the journey of life. We are so intent upon hastening forward, we look so eagerly towards the goal which we are longing to attain, that we often do not notice until we miss them how many treasures we have left behind on our way. It is true, however, whether we know it or not, that notwithstanding our acquisitiveness, our economy, and our storing, we become much poorer as the years go on. And it is curious how we try to mislead ourselves in the matter. We say that we are rich and increased in goods;" we try to believe that we are greater and stronger and more wealthy, because we see that there are at least some things which time gives us in exchange for those which he takes away. But if we were courageous enough to face the truth and acknowledge it to ourselves, we should admit that we are not gainers but losers. We start upon our journey with the consciousness of possessing some valuables, and with the expectation of gathering more as we go along. We stoop occasionally, and pick up what looks very fair, and alas! we do not notice that in the effort to do so we have loosened our grasp of what was better worth the keeping. And often it is not until the evening comes, and we sit down to count our gains and losses, that we find what is the true state of our affairs.

Perhaps we first notice how many friends we drop as the years pass on. We start with a good many, and in this respect are far richer than we think. But they do not

all go with us to the end. We are stricken with grief when the first disappears; but after a time we are so used to it that we are hardened, and our tears fall less copiously.

Sometimes we lose our friends by death, and then there

is a pathos and a tenderness about the loss that encourages our grief, and causes us to mourn for them with a lamentation that is not unmingled with sweetness. But far oftener we drop our friends, or they loosen themselves from our hold while living. The loss may be caused by

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"A something light as air, a look,

A word unkind, or wrongly taken;"

or there may be a gradual falling apart from no perceptible cause whatever. It may be that circumstances remove them from our sight, and other interests coming in gradually displace them from our hearts until they are crowded out altogether. Whatever may be the cause, the fact is the same we drop many friends as we pass along. Of course new ones may come to take their places, but new ones can seldom be to us what the old were. And though they may help to make the solitary places glad, and though a few of the old ones may remain, yet when we think of those who have fallen from us we cannot help feeling a little like the trees that the autumn has stripped of their leaves.

Also, as we get on with our journey we find that we have lost a good deal of the vigour of mind and body with which we started. How strong and eager were our thoughts in those happy days. We never understood that thought was work; we thought because we enjoyed it, because we could not help it. We never dreamed of brains wearing out, nor of nervous headaches which should one day show how much we had lost. Then how strong we were physically! what a pleasure it was to see how much we could do, what weights we could lift, how far and how fast we could run! How different it all is when years have passed! What has become of all our strength? Life itself is labour, and toil most wearisome. We do not lift any burden of our own accord; we begin to bend beneath those that life obliges us to carry. As for running, jumping, and climbing, we gave up those amusements long ago. We have enough to do to walk soberly; sometimes we can do little more than creep. And so, though we are not particularly eager to admit the fact even to ourselves, we find that we have dropped, and for ever lost, some physical treasures as we came along.

And, what is almost more painful, we have lost many things that contributed to the nobility of our youth. We had hope once, but what has become of it now? How we dreamed, and anticipated, and longed. Earth was a splendid place when we first began to notice it; and it was to be more radiant still in the future. Of course we had some disappointments, but we recovered them rapidly, and soon believed that even they were for the best. This buoyancy would stand us in good stead now-but it has gone. We fear much more than we hope, and despair comes more easily to the surface than exultation. Much of our faith in mankind is gone too. How beautiful is the humility and self-depreciation which characterises youth. It was so easy and so pleasant to respect others. Veneration had all opportunity for the display of its meek spirit. We were grateful then for the love with regard to which since we have only become exacting. We mistrusted our own powers of pleasing, and were conscious of no dignity which we were bound to maintain.

"And yet, O good, O wise and true!

I would for all my fealty
That I could be as much to you
As you to me "

was the sort of longing which filled us with regard to those who were dearest to us. But unhappily that feeling grows scarce as the years pass on. A closer acquaintance with our fellows, eyes that learn to see their defects as well as their excellences, are too often successful in stealing away the deference we had, and substituting self-love for it. People are not nearly as good as we thought they were; and so by degrees we become suspicious and proud and hard. And, what is even worse to bear, we are disappointed in ourselves, and lose our hope of doing or being aught that is good.

Some things, however, we should gain in exchange for those that we lose. If we cannot have vigour we should at least have patience. If we cannot do, we should have learnt how to endure. And the discipline of life has done little for us if, having taught us how we fail in all things, and how far from perfect our fellows are, it has not also increased our reverence for, and perfected our hope in, the holy Saviour. The years that steal from us so much

of all that is earthly and human enrich us with confidence and trust in Him. We know what at first we were only told, that He is a friend who loveth at all times. And we believe too that He, coming with us along the journey, gathers up the treasures we drop. So they are not lost, for He takes care of them. He is saving them for us, and one day, who knows but that He will give them all back to us-friends, vigour, simplicity of character, everything that we mourn as having lost with our youth? And in the meantime we know what to do-" Lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal."

The Winds.

"Stormy wind fulfilling His word."

PEOPLE are not generally very partial to strong winds, though we have them so often that we might be expected to get used to them. But we have, perhaps, a dislike to things that by their great strength compel us to feel, if not to confess, our own weakness. And though it is now and then exceedingly pleasant and invigorating to do battle with the wind, yet as the victory is decided beforehand, and there is the certainty that we shall grow tired long enough before our opponent does, it is not all pleasure. It is rather trying to one's dignity to stand at street corners, and be whisked about as if of no more consequence than straw, and be utterly unable to move until the fury of the wind shall have become less for a few moments. Who can possibly move statelily and feel grandly in a gale of wind, especially with one's hat merrily careering twenty or thirty yards in advance of its owner?

But it would be well if such little inconveniences were the only ones felt from the high winds. There is a sense of comfort in resting within the strong walls of home while outside the wind-storms are raging, and making wild music among the bare branches of bending trees. But who can listen to them in any part of our island

without remembering what destructive power they possess? How many persons with kind hearts send up earnest prayers, "God have mercy upon our seamen, to the accompaniment of the winds! And how sad it seems to us when the report reaches us of the havoc caused by these terrible wreckers!

And yet we believe and know that though these destructive elements seem to be altogether let loose, there is a Hand that holds them and has them under perfect control. Above all the noises they cause, there is a still small voice of mighty power which even they recognise and obey— "Hitherto shalt thou go, but no further." And when we would murmur at fair lives cut off, or strong men gone down into the deeps, what can we say when we remember that these stormy winds are fulfilling His will, who is kind, and merciful, and long-suffering, and gracious, and who tells us of father's love and mother's tenderness when He wishes to teach of Himself? What can we do but be silent, and patient, and trustful, saying, “He is good, and doeth good continually;" "He hath done all things well?"

We know what wind-storms are in our own lives. We know what it is to be blown about, and shaken, and filled with terror, while all the defences we have raised for our own safety are split like canvas in the gale. And we can no more understand it than can the poor sailors in their distresses. Only we know that even the winds do good, that they are sent, not by an angry Judge, but by our Father, and that all His purposes are wise and kind. These winds that are so hard to bear, that try our patience and fortitude, and courage, come from a loving Friend— come indeed from Him who will Himself shelter us from the rough blast. Let us wait, and look up to Him with no thought of rebellion or complaint. The winds will purify us, and make us more firmly rooted in faith. And though they may howl, and sometimes almost terrify us, let our prayer be that every blast may be turned into a spiritual blessing.

"Oh, that the storm which scattereth

Each earth-born hope abroad,

May anchor those of holier birth

More firmly on our God!”