We cannot make the sun
God, who com-

to rise upon the earth. But "

manded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God, in the face of Jesus Christ." We must ask of Him without fainting, that He will shew Himself. And there are three

One is by habitual

ways of seeking this great gift. prayer, another by quiet meditation, and a third, which is above all, by frequent communion. It is then that He specially fulfils His promise. As at Emmaus, so now, He is known in the breaking of bread. This is that commandment which we have of Him, "Do this in remembrance of Me." Happy are they who keep it well; to whom the altar is the centre of their worship, the object of their desire, the source of strength and peace. Blessed are they who say, "I will go to the altar of God, unto God my exceeding joy ;" to our God manifest in the flesh, but veiled in that pure mystery. The holy sacrament of His love and passion is the fullest realisation of His presence unto the end of the world. 66 Lo, I am with you." Let us so live, as to be ever drawing near. For what is so like to the days when He went in and out among them that loved Him? What so fastens upon us a sense that He is here; that He is come to us, 1 2 Cor. iv. 6.

and that He calleth for us? They who so live know what it is to be awakened and quickened as by the presence of some one greatly loved; or if they complain, as many do, of distant and cold hearts, even at the altar, it is often because their consciousness of how loving and how near He is, acts by an opposite effect, revealing to them, not what they have, but what they need. The more we know what He is, and feel Him near, the more we shall accuse ourselves, and see our own unworthiness. For His presence at the altar is all that we can endure in this life of earth. To behold more would be heaven, for which we are not meet. He is teaching us, little by little, to see His face unveiled. I have many things to say unto you, but ye cannot bear them now." In heaven they shall be most blessed who have known Him most fully here. They here shall know Him best who see Him with greatest clearness. They see Him clearest whose hearts are most like His

own.

At His appearing to His disciples in Galilee, on the mountain where He had appointed them, "when they saw Him, they worshipped Him; but some doubted." They doubted not that He was their Lord, nor that He had suffered agony and death upon the cross, nor that He had risen from the dead; but they doubted their own certainty of

sight, like as they who believed not for joy, and wondered; or as when they saw Him at the sea, and none durst ask Him, "Who art thou? knowing that it was the Lord." So it is now with you. It may be you are doubting, not of Him, but of yourselves; not whether He is with you, but whether your hearts have ever seen Him. Only believe for a little while: "a little while, and ye shall see Me." And there shall be no doubting then; when He shall be visibly revealed in the kingdom of the resurrection, and you shall be pure in heart to behold Him in the beatific vision of Himself.

What is a little while? A little more sickness, sorrow, mourning, and solitude; a little more of striving and persevering. A little while is soon over; and then we shall be changed into a changeless joy. Then "we shall see Him as He is." What, then, is "a little while," if in a little while we may see Him for ever?

SERMON VII.

COMPLAINING A HINDRANCE TO THE SPIRITUAL LIFE.

JOB XXIX. 2, 3, 4.

Oh that I were as in months past, as in the days when God preserved me; when His candle shined upon my head, and when by His light I walked through darkness; as I was in the days of my youth, when the secret of God was upon my tabernacle !"

HESE are sad and bitter words, the com

THE

plaining of a man who had once known days of peace and light, but was now in affliction. In years past, Job had lived in fellowship with God, encompassed with His mercies, full of His gifts. He had received blessings in the house and in the field, in the basket and in the store. He had his children round about him, and his people held him in honour. A change came over his life. God hid His face, and Job was troubled. The tempter received power to try his faith, and

he smote him with sore afflictions. Childless and spoiled, he sat upon the ground in his wounds and sickness, pleading with God and bemoaning his desolation. "Oh that I were as in months past!" This is a tone of mourning very common among men at all times, and in all trials of life: not only by the graves of past happiness, and in the loneliness of ordinary sorrow, but in spiritual sadness, in the heavy cloud which often comes down upon the soul even of God's true servants.

It is very common to hear those who have long served God speak of times past as times of joy, and of the time present as a time of declension. We have all our golden age. The season of childhood, or the first fervour of conversion, the first burst of conscious faith, the first exulting spring out of the bonds of a worldly life, when life seems over, and heaven already won: blessed days and nights, when even in dreams God seems to speak with us all these are times which, in retrospect, have a peculiar brightness. After a while, they seem past away, and we say, "Oh that I were as I was in the days of my youth, when the secret of God was upon my tabernacle !"

Sometimes, indeed, these complainings have no reality; but sometimes they are true. For instance, people who have been brought up in a home full of helps to the spiritual life, sometimes