hundred men." It is the old argument of so-called "common sense" and probability against God and duty. Never has work of faith come to us, but common sense has called up a perfect phalanx of reasonable arguments against it. Could there be anything more unreasonable than to attempt passing through the Red Sea, or to encompass Jericho with the Ark and blasts of trumpets, or literally to spread a letter before Jehovah, or to build a wall which would break down if even a fox went upon it-or, to take even a higher view, to expect that the Son of God Incarnate would be laid in a manger, or that the Gospel, preached by a few illiterate Jewish fishers, would subdue the civilisation of Greece and the institutions of Rome, and in its onward progress conquer, renew, and civilise the world itself? Or else: Could anything seem more unlikely than that for sinners such as we are the Lord Jesus Christ should come into this world, and shed His precious blood? We have learned to call nothing strange nor unlikely which we have been taught to expect from the Word of God. And when, day by day, the ministers of Christ go forth to feed the company with provision, which it needs not a Gehazi to remind them is in many respects insufficient, their comfort lies in the assurance of the gracious power of God. In answer to prayer, He can, and He will multiply the scanty food. And we know that One greater than Elisha is with us. We may have only brought a few loaves and fishes; but He speaks "the grace before meat;" He takes and dispenses the food, and there is enough and to spare. Who is sufficient for these things? may often be the anxious enquiry of those engaged in this work. The answer is, "Our sufficiency is of God." It needs not power, might, imagination, eloquence, nor genius. After having used all the means at our disposal in preparing for the work, we may calmly, if believingly, go forward in His

Name, even if conscious of insufficiency. Just as in our outward want He can, if needful, send to our relief a stranger with twenty barley loaves and parched corn, so can He multiply the provision, temporal or spiritual, till it not only sufficeth, but there is "left thereof."

But Gehazi's prudential objection was silenced by the prophet's reply: "for thus saith the Lord." This is an argument which overrules all others. Gehazi obeyed, beheld, and wondered-yet, alas! he understood not, what was the grand lesson of this event, and that not only to them, but to us and to the Church in all ages, and with which the narrative emphatically closes--that all this was: "according to the Word of Jehovah."

CHAPTER XIV.

THE CLOUD WITH THE SILVER LINING.

"Now Naaman, captain of the host of the king of Syria, was a great man with his master, and honourable, because by him the Lord had given deliverance unto Syria: he was also a mighty man in valour, but he was a leper. And the Syrians had gone out by companies, and had brought away captive out of the land of Israel a little maid; and she waited on Naaman's wife. And she said unto her mistress, Would God my lord were with the prophet that is in Samaria! for he would recover him of his leprosy. And one went in, and told his lord, saying, Thus and thus said the maid that is of the land of Israel. And the king of Syria said, Go to, go, and I will send a letter unto the king of Israel. And he departed, and took with him ten talents of silver, and six thousand pieces of gold, and ten changes of raiment. And he brought the letter to the king of Israel, saying, Now when this letter is come unto thee, behold, I have therewith sent Naaman my servant to thee, that thou mayest recover him of his leprosy. And it came to pass, when the king of Israel had read the letter, that he rent his clothes, and said, Am I God, to kill and to make alive, that this man doth send unto me to recover a man of his leprosy? wherefore consider, I pray you, and see how he seeketh a quarrel against me."-2 KINGS V. I-7.

RANK, distinction, and wealth are undoubtedly good gifts of God, which only a morbid asceticism could affect to despise. They can procure much; yet, after all, they can effect very little. Indeed, it would be easier to enumerate what they cannot, than what they can, effect. As in many other things, so here, the Unknown exercises its charm. While beset by outward difficulties, we are prone to imagine how much could be effected by money, or to suppose that easy circumstances must mean circumstances of ease. They mean nothing of the kind. It is only after we have all that we want, and when there is no rational outward wish which cannot be gratified, that we see how very little money can really effect, and how small an element it forms in securing

happiness. The springs of human life rise much higher than often seems even to ourselves, and our happiness or unhappiness depends on causes over which outward circumstances have little, if any, control. But over all reigns that Divine Providence which orders all, and which, out of seeming confusion, brings calm and beauty.

Few events could apparently bear less reference to each other than the disease of Naaman, and the capture of a little Jewish maiden. Few events also could, at the time, have seemed more untoward. Yet, in reality, few events could have been more deeply and closely connected, or were fraught with richer blessing, than these two. Far from Samaria, in fair Damascus, Naaman held state-the generalin-chief of Syria's armies, and the trusted adviser of Benhadad. Under the reign of that monarch, the relations between Israel and Syria had changed. Cunning, cruel, and determined, the Syrian king had known how to combine for his purpose all the elements hostile to Israel. It was a day of bitter humiliation and terrible disaster when, at the head of thirty-two kings, Ben-hadad laid Israel low, and long did the land feel the consequences of Ahab's sin and folly. In that battle Naaman must have done signal service. According to Jewish tradition, it was from his bow that the arrow sped which smote the king of Israel. The war ended with that battle, but not the defeat. The army of Israel was dispersed; Syria no longer encountered resistance, and a constant marauding border-warfare henceforth desolated the land, and distressed the people.

The services which Naaman had rendered to his king and country were not forgotten in Syria. He was elevated to the highest post in the state; nor was he undeserving the honour. As his figure is drawn in Scripture, it is that of a frank, generous, proud, and bold soldier. "He was a great man

with his master," "and honourable," a favourite with the people, a dashing leader-as the narrative bears, open-handed, open-hearted, though quick-tempered, just the man to be idolised by the populace. Moreover, if we may be allowed. to interpret his name as a designation, he was Naaman, or "handsome," his outward appearance corresponding with his natural character. Here, then, was everything that could procure happiness-rank, glory, wealth, influence, together with natural disposition that would fit him for a keen relish of it all. And yet there was a worm, and a sting in it all; the drop that had fallen into his cup made all its contents most bitter. At the end of all, the Hand of God had written the word "but"-"but he was a leper." To be stricken with such a loathsome, hopeless distemper, marred all else-home and palace, honours and popularity. Wherever Naaman went, or whatever he did, he was still the leper. How his pride must have chafed under what he could neither conceal, nor subdue, nor remove! His was the least curable of all, the white leprosy (as we learn from the sequel), and neither man nor god in all Syria could deliver him from his misery. What could have turned into his life-stream that poisonous current which polluted it, and made the meanest soldier, who gaily hummed by the watch-fire his song about. home, a man happier far than his chief, powerful and renowned though he was? Alas, this little word "but" seems to follow men through life, like the shadow of death. How soon may the unfinished sentence which begins with this "but" be filled up! He was rich, honoured, happy-" but " God laid His Hand upon him! What folly then to live in a sense of imaginary independence, and in forgetfulness of the Most High! Even if we not only retain what we have, but could add indefinitely thereto, yet, with this unwritten sentence to be inserted in the vacant space, does it not seem as if the