holy Gospels, the veil is lifted which shrouds the mystery of His daily life, and there shine out from beneath it those tender sympathies, those touching incidents and lowly details of a human and suffering life, which 'draw us with the cords of a man, with the bands of love' to Him who has borne our nature even to the heavenly throne.

We can picture Him as a traveller, weary and footsore, resting on the well-side at Samaria, while His disciples sought refreshment for Him in the city. We hear Him saying that He has not where to lay His head,' and imagination turns to the scene on the Lake of Tiberias, the frail boat tossing on the troubled waves, while He is asleep on a pillow;' brief rest, so soon to be broken by the clamours of the faithless crew!

We see Him watching through many a lonely vigil, while the cold night winds are lamenting amongst the hills of Galilee. We read that when the haughty rulers of the Pharisees 'went every man to his own house,' every man to his comforts, his luxuries, and his pride, 'Jesus went unto the Mount of Olives,' to that mount, His only home at Jerusalem, where He spent so many nights in prayer, where 'His feet' so often stood, while yet the grey light of dawn was breaking on the shades of the dusky olives; where they 'shall stand' once more at the dawn of the eternal day, when the shadows shall have fled for evermore.

Whether, during the course of His suffering life on earth, our Divine Lord ever endured the trials of sick

ness, has not been given to us to know; but this we do know, that in some mysterious manner, by the intensity of His most loving sympathy, He became not merely the Healer, but the Partaker of all our bodily ills, otherwise those touching words had never echoed through the ages from inspired lips, 'Himself took our infirmities and bare our sicknesses.' And we know, too, that He bare them through life, unto death; that on the altar of His cross were rehearsed and concentrated (as it were) all and each of the sufferings of mankind; we know that every one of them has been sanctified by Him in the slow and dragging hours of His agony; that the throbbing heart and the aching brow, the parched mouth and failing eyes, the weary limbs, 'the torn and shivering nerves,' the burning thirst and the sinking of the whole soul in the anguish of sharpest torture,-that all these, not singly, but simultaneously, were once His portion.

We know that He lays on us no burden which He has not borne before; He does not even tell us, as earthly friends would sometimes do, that pain is not wearisome, and that sorrow is not sad; ah no! He knows their bitterness too well for that. In the storehouse of His loving heart He treasures still the memories of earth, of His sorrows and of His pains; they have lost now their sharpness and their sting; the crown of thorns has budded (as Aaron's rod of old) into tender blossoms of everlasting light; but He bears in His hands and in His side the tokens of His love unto

death, the marks of the wounds wherewith He was wounded in the house of His friends;' and of us, His ransomed ones, His friends, He only asks that what He bore for us we would bear in our turn for Him (a light cross, indeed, compared with His heavy one, and yet He knows that we could bear no more),-He only asks us to rest on Him when our hearts are failing us for fear; only to remember Him in His agony, and never to forget Him in our joy; to be partakers of His sufferings and His sympathy here, till the burden of our cross shall be changed into the 'exceeding and eternal weight of glory,' which we shall bear, by the help of His love, for ever in heaven.

FROM THE FRENCH.

OH most blessed Jesus! perfect God and perfect

OF

man, who didst take upon Thee our flesh that Thou mightest unite it to Thy Godhead, let this Thy double nature be to us the pledge of a double mercy. As God, do Thou forget our transgressions; as Man, do Thou remember our sorrows. As God, do Thou draw us and lift us up more and more unto Thee; as Man, do Thou return to guide us through the rugged paths which Thou Thyself hast trod in the days of Thine earthly exile. Be with us each moment, in our sorrow and our joy. Oh Jesu, Divine Master, be merciful unto

our sins.

Oh Jesu, gracious Friend, sympathize with
For Thine own name's sake.

us in our infirmities.

Amen.

From 'HYMNS ANCIENT AND MODERN.'

ART thou weary, art thou languid,

Art thou sore distrest?

'Come to Me,' saith One, and coming,
Be at rest.'

Hath He marks to lead me to Him,

If He be my guide?

'In His feet and hands are wound-prints,

And his side.'

Is there diadem, as monarch,

That His brow adorns?

'Yea, a crown, of very surety,

But of thorns.'

If I find Him, if I follow,

What His guerdon here?

'Many a sorrow, many a labour,
Many a tear.'

If I still hold closely to Him,

What hath He at last?

'Sorrow vanquished, labour ended,
Jordan past.'

If I ask Him to receive me,

Will He say me nay?

'Not till earth, and not till heaven Pass away!'

Finding, following, keeping, struggling,

Is He sure to bless?

'Saints, Apostles, Prophets, Martyrs,

Answer, Yes!'

Amen.

From 'THE INNER LIFE.'

HERE is a secret place of rest

THERE

God's saints alone may know;
Thou shalt not find it east nor west,
Though seeking to and fro.
A cell where Jesus is the door,

His love the only key:

Who enter will go out no more,
But there with Jesus be.

If thou hadst dwelt within that place,
Then would thine heart the while,
In vision of the Saviour's face,

Forget all other smile;

Forget the charm earth's waters had,

If once thy foot had trod

Beside the river that makes glad

The city of our God.