And in society, is there not many a life wasted and vapid, many an old age which cannot be called venerable, because of the absence of spiritual resources, of dignity of thought, of religious wisdom and acquaintance with the days of God, of that knowledge of our fellow-creatures which is the basis of beneficent action towards them, of instructed sympathies with the interests of mankind, of grave and weighty cares? Is there not often a poor tone in conversation, and a relief sought from weariness in a devotion to triflesnot because low things are really preferred, but because nothing else is easily supplied and time hangs heavily? Is there not discontent and gloom, though the spirit looks abroad and, ignorant of its own poverty, wonders what it wants? Are there not trials of temper, little things treated as if they were great things, perversity and fretfulness which would never be known if our minds had been rightfully exercised and our hearts were worthily filled? Take even a life of pure affection: how insipid would it become if heart, mind, soul and strength, did not work together! Look to the love for God that Christ requires from us, knowing that no other love could live for ever-a love not from or with one part of our nature, but from and with every part of it!

And some earnest enthusiasm of life is the effectual cure for all disquiet. There will always be minor cares. and troubles for those who are at leisure to attend to

them; nor can we be rescued from these except by interests and pursuits that take us out of their region. If a man was to spend his time in watching and correcting his faults of temper, he might give himself up to smallness for ever; but if he could be filled with the zest of devoted and instructed work in the service of any large affection, sweetness and goodness would begin to dwell with him and pettiness vanish away. For despondency and disquiet, like all other evil, are not positive things with which you can contend directly: you cannot seize them and destroy them: they are simply the absence of full and blessed life, and you can dispel them only by happier, richer occupation, as you dispel darkness by letting in the light. All spiritual uneasiness is only negative—the absence of what ought to be with us: you cannot take it and eject it, but you can leave no room for it: to reason with it is only to acknowledge it to be a real thing, which it is not to sweep and garnish the house of your soul will not deliver it from spiritual unrest, if it is empty of Love and of God; but the presence of Love and of God will flood the whole temple with peace. We cannot encounter the world on its own ground in any of its forms: if we do, we shall be worsted in the combat; but through better loves and better cares we can carry a charmed life and pass unharmed.

It is on this account that all lives occupied by some enthusiasm, by some intense pursuit, are so full of

blessedness. Thus there is, perhaps, no happier man on earth than a true artist who lives for his artwhom all knowledge and all purity subserve-in whom the real and the ideal mingle in wholesome proportions-the discernment of his eye, the thought of his mind, the creativeness of his spirit, the labour and cunning of his hand-whose joy is his duty and whose duty is his joy. And so of every form of life in which there is some enthusiasm, some sense of being engaged with the inexhaustible things of God: Philanthropy, when it is the charity that fills a man's being with thought and love; Science, when it is a worship; Religion, when it is a thirst for all perfection, and a thankfulness that sweetens every morsel of our daily bread.

Enthusiasm, as a constant working power in life, is perhaps not at our command: but to know Godto love Him altogether-to live in the light of His countenance-to be satisfied with a little in some directions, because in others we have so much-to receive all things hopefully because they are from Him-to take the peace of resting in His goodness— to desire all day long, "Oh that my heart were as Thy heart, and that wholly!"-these are open to us.

Then, "Why art thou cast down, oh my soul! and why art thou disquieted within me? Hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise Him who is the health of my countenance, and my God."

XXIV.

Quiet from God.

JOB Xxxiv. 29:

"When He giveth quietness, who then can make trouble?"

THERE are those who make trouble for themselves, and are robbed of the quietness God gives, by a haunting sense of insecurity of tenure. The elements of their peace are not permanent; and while they last are troubled by the fear of disastrous change. With such, the goodness of God would seem to be precarious, always requiring to be made out anew in relation to present fortunes, to the clouds that are passing over their sky-to be believed when they are happy, to be doubted when they are troubled. We have all to confess how little we possess our souls in peace, what small confidence we have in the sure foundations of our repose or joy of spirit, how much more we fear ourselves to be at the mercy of circumstances than we really are. How few walk in the filial faith of Christ, that in God there is no darkness at all, no cloud upon His love, no speck of unfatherly purpose towards us,

that could throw an undefined shadow on our spirits! How many of us live in apprehension of evils that never come! To how many periods of our lives can we look back that were overcast, and almost lost to us through fear and want of trust-distrust of God, distrust of one another-knowing now that they might have been passed in almost radiant bliss, if we could have swept the unreal spectres from our thoughts! Notwithstanding the inevitable changefulness and insecurity of outward life, through what long tracts might the river of our being have borne us on full tides of peace, if we could have divested ourselves of Peter's fear that we were about to sink, that the waters would rise above us and overwhelm our souls! I suppose there are few persons who do not feel now in regard to past years, that through want of faith they threw their own shadows on God's sunshine; and how blessed all those years might have been if they had drank the cup which each day presented with a thoughtful consciousness of how full it was, if not of joy, at least of the waters of life, believing for all the coming days that each would be sufficient for its own evil. If many of us were asked why in bygone days we did not take the quietness that God gave, seeing that no great calamity has come upon us, I believe we could give no answer, except that the shadow of an unbelieving fear was upon our hearts.