signs of his grave, day."

so that no man knoweth his sepulchre unto this

So far, however, we have but followed the idea of close and intimate acquaintance with God's ways by what is on the surface; very much more than these external signs are present in this case, for by long usage and culture there came upon the servant of God sympathies that were God-like in their character, and that were certainly of God in their origin. This is the first instance of what, in after ages, became known as the "burden of the Lord," and that found its highest and final expression in the cross of the Christ, "who bare our sicknesses, and carried our infirmities," "by whose stripes we are healed; and it is in such respects as these that the character of the man culminates. Step by step the servant of God is led, until, from the mere leadership of Israel, he emerges as Israel's advocate and mediator, "standing in the breach, and turning away the wrath of Jehovah;" and that not officially, but naturally, and for the very sufficient reason that there had been produced in him the spirit of all high service-the grace of self-sacrifice. The man cannot have far to go in his education in God's ways who can pray, "Yet now, if thou wilt, forgive their sin; and if not, blot me, I pray thee, out of thy book which thou hast written."

No finer type ever existed of the sorrows of the man Christ Jesus than Moses- It went hard with him for their sakes." In the light of the Gospel we know what estimate to put upon such tearful, broken hearted words as these-" Wherefore hast thou afflicted thy servant, that thou layest the burden of all this people upon me? Have I begotten them, that thou shouldest say to me, Carry them in thy bosom unto the land which thou swarest unto their fathers?"

Out of such a calling of God might very well come the ninetieth Psalm: despair born of deep thoughts of human life; of the brief hour permitted to men for work; of the vast proportions of the work so closely shut up to the span of threescore years and ten; of the great night that evermore cometh on, wrapping the hands and feet of the servant of God about; of the sin and weakness that lie quite open to the face of God, seems natural enough. There is a form of despair concerning life that no true man need trouble himself about; but this type of it is a very different affair, and comes of living after the highest ideal, conscious still of secret sin and shame, afraid of life with such a solemn meaning, of death with its eternal inactivities and silence. "How can the man but fear to whom God is so near?" Who lives for men, and that for God's sake, lives ever at some cost to himself.

The doctrine that "drops like the rain, the speech that distils as the dew," are often begotten of secret care, and there is no such thing as harmony between the prophecy and prayer of such souls. They are as a harp set at an open window at midnight; sweet sounds lie on one side the strings, but on the other break the wild winds and the tempest.

How strangely the words clash! The very day that Israel hung upon the prophecy and promise of Moses, God said to him, "Get thee up into the mountain, and die in the mount whither thou goest up: " there is hope for Israel, none for him; "O Israel, who is like unto thee! O people, saved by the Lord, God is thy refuge, and underneath thee are the everlasting arms." This order of life is not obsolete, for since Christ came into the world, laying the foundations of a diviner ministry, and leaving His cross to the church as its symbol, men have passed into closer acquaintance with the sympathies of God, have entered into the very sufferings of Christ Himself, walking in the light of the purposes of God as He is in the light; and though we have made but little account of the idea, it is true concerning the men who trust and love Christ. His joy is theirs, His sorrow theirs as well; the work He did, we are doing; "as he was, so are we also in this world; ' and we labour, "striving according to his working, which worketh in us mightily."

Let us, therefore, understand ourselves. The strain of life with us lies in the consideration that upon the frail, sinful souls of men God has cast His mantle; on our dark spirits shines full the blaze of light that only the cross can bear; while to our poor intellect has been committed the mystery of all the ages, the one central awful truth of the nature of God," We perceive the love of God, because he laid down his life for us." We are called also to watch and labour, and pray for the universal spread of the truth we have received from Him; and, with infinite longing for its dominion over the souls of men, to fill our narrow places of service with the spirit of faithfulness over a few things.

It is for us to deal with every instance that arises of repentance toward God; and to tell how a man may find the peace and rest promised to simple trust, and not less feel the pain that strikes through the heart of Christ at love grown thoughtless and unfaithful—

"For still the Saviour weeps

Over His people's sin;

Because they will not let Him keep
The souls He died to win."

These are the things that often overweight us, that make life solemn, and that bring us to the verge of despair. And yet who would change them for any other care, or lose one moment's sense of the burden they impose? To the blessed God it must seem the miracle of grace and power that men can so dismiss the sense of earth and time as to aspire to stand beside Himself in the world's deliverance and redemption. And yet that is just how the case stands: We ARE fellow labourers together with God." His hope is ours; and compared with that hope, we have no other. I ask whether, in presence of such an idea, life is not transfigured? As a doctrine of culture, does it not stand before all others we have ever heard of?

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the

tudeed, one may ask with confidence what other there can be, where the ground is occupied in such a fashion. For if God will impart to a www this deepest, and most blessed secret, the uplifting of the would to this heaven by force of His love,-what beyond that would a was bare what is there left for which to pray? What more can God bare te gire* Nothing more, unless it be grace to make full proof of Mimishty. We may not think too much of its rewards,-its Bostons, the promise are enough. God cannot cast such souls away: we are met of tunell We cannot

be blown about the desert dast, Or wa’od woher the ren hills."

Mo will see the up at the last day, and sat us in the presence of His sa mga or 4 s soul, and of jurs

business. To be sure, his stock in aloof from Dick Ward and his comtrade was not large, and to some it panions. With some pride he felt might not have been very attractive, himself better than they were. but the residents of Derry Street Now, he thought with a flush of neighbourhood were not over-par- shame as he took his seat, he was no better than they. And what would Maggie say, if she knew? Mike was decidedly uncomfortable. Recess came, but he was in no mood for play, so he lingered about by the stove.

ticular. Mike watched him with wistful eyes from the first. How Maggie would like some! In vain he searched his pockets, in vain he racked his brain to think of something to make a trade with Dick. Mike was destitute.

One morning about this time he reached school a little earlier than usual, and, it being quite chilly, he went in by the fire. Some of the other boys were there also.

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Come, George," said Joe Willard, "I've got to go up the street; come with me."

"All right, only wait a moment till I put these things in my desk; there's a hole in my pocket.'

Mike's eyes opened wide. Could it be possible any boy was the owner of three knives? He was sure George took three out of his pocket, and then-Mike had a bright idea just then. At least it seemed bright to him at that moment.

"Boys," suddenly said a quick voice, and Mike's heart almost stood still. "Boys, have any of you been to my desk?"

Mike's heart gave a sudden throb. George owned three knives, that Suppose he and Maggie could give was more than any boy needed- each other Christmas presents, neither he nor Dick Ward owned wouldn't he thrash any boy that one. Maggie was sick and poor. would steal one of them from him! George had everything he wanted, His mind was made up speedily: and one of those knives would buy the knife should be returned. Dick's entire stock for the day. If When the bell rang to call the George thoroughly understood the scholars to their seats, his place was case, there was no doubt he would vacant. That noon George found say, "Take it and welcome;" and a brown paper parcel hanging considering that he did not under- under his cap in the hall. On stand, was it not proper for Mike opening it he found his missing to take it quietly himself? knife, and on the paper was written these words :

On the spur of the moment Mike decided it was proper, and while the boys were looking the other way, one of the knives was transferred from George's desk to Mike's pocket. But somehow the possession of it gave him great discomfort. From some undefined sense of propriety Mike had always been strictly honest. He had even held himself

"I took your knife. I thought 'twan't fair for you to have three, and I hadn't any; but I don't care if it ain't fair, I'm agoin' to be honest. I'm sorry Í took it, too."

There was a great shout from the boys as George read this aloud. "Who do you suppose wrote it?" was the query.

Indeed, one may ask with confidence what other there can be, where the ground is occupied in such a fashion. For if God will impart to a man His deepest, and most blessed secret, the uplifting of the world to His heaven by force of His love,-what beyond that would a man have? what is there left for which to pray? What more can God have to give? Nothing more, unless it be grace to make full proof of such a ministry. We may not think too much of its rewards, its honour, its promise are enough. God cannot cast such souls away:

we are part of Himself. We cannot

be blown about the desert dast,

Or sealed within the iron hills."

He will raise us up at the last day, and set us in the presence of His great joy; the travail of His soul, and of ours.

Birmingham.

MIKE RAVY'S FIRST THEFT.

FOR THE BOYS.

I Do not think you ever beheld | It was during one of her sick such a strange-looking specimen of turns that her son Mike thought it humanity as Mike Ravy. The first best his education should be attime he appeared on the school- tended to. Accordingly, he had grounds, the boys deafened the rummaged about the shop, and neighbours with their shouts. selected a suit of clothes which You must know that Mike's seemed quite fine to him. To be father's business was the sale of sure, they were made for some one ready-made clothing. His rather three times his size, who had died rickety sign hung over his door, and been forgotten long before "First-class clothing establish- Mike's time. But they suited him, ment." Mrs. Ravy was truly a as he was not particularly fastihelpmeet to her husband: she was dious. also in business. Sometimes she went to one part of the city or adjoining towns, as a poor widow with several small children to support. At other times she wandered in an opposite direction, leaving behind a helpless husband, crippled by the fall from a building on which he was at work. Directly after her return from one of these expeditions, the "first-class establishment" displayed a fresh stock of goods.

As I have said, his first appearance made great fun for the boys, but as day after day passed and he made no change in his garments, more or less important subjects filled their youthful minds, and Mike pursued his way unmolested.

To all external appearances he was a rough, unattractive boy, but, unknown to almost every one, he had one tender spot in his heart. This spot belonged to his little But the worthy Mrs. Ravy crippled sister Maggie. Poor Magsuffered from severe attacks of gie, who could never walk! But sickness, from which, she said, it this weakness of the boy's rough took a "dale of medicine " to rouse heart drew him into trouble once her. I presume she was fore- upon a time. And this was how warned of these attacks, for she it came about. always provided herself with medicine in a large black bottle.

Dick Ward, one of the boys in the same street, went into the candy