anguish beyond conception great, in the mise-
rable company of lost sinners and devils.
This Life, then, brief as it is, is "a moment
on which eternity depends!"

How mysterious an essence is life!
What is it? Where is it?

We all know its working, but where is the hidden worker? The anatomist's skill cannot detect it. The chemist's knowledge cannot explain it. No invention has placed us even one step nearer to the possession of the power of breathing life into anything that is inanimate.

How soon, too, it passes away! How uncertain is its endurance even for the strongest! "When once the breath of man goeth forth, he turneth again to his earth, and all his thoughts perish."

This is as true now as it was in David's time, and no art of the physician can arrest death or prolong life for one hour.

What is life, then?—A great gift of God.

And as it comes from God, so it should be used by the living man in such a way for God on earth, that he may live hereafter for ever with God in heaven.

Life, then, is not a gift to be used by me at my pleasure for myself, but a trust to be employed at the peril of my soul for God! I have a high honour, a blessed privilege, a glorious hope before me in the fact of my existence, but one that implies also a most solemn responsibility.

This holy season of the Lord's Passion throws light on the purpose of life.

Christ came on earth as man: He lived,

and He died "that we might have life, and that we might have it more abundantly!"

O God, impress on this shallow, frivolous, heart of mine, a deeper sense of the unutterable solemnity of life thus bought with Thy Son's death! Till the hour of my own. death I shall never know all its value! Till the very day of judgment I shall not understand all the tremendous responsibility I incur by living!

Holy Spirit of the Eternal God make me realize the truth of which I am clearly convinced in my intellect!

God made me because in His wisdom and infinite goodness He had need of me, weak as I am, for His work. There is a purpose in His knowledge for my existence. There is a corner in His vineyard which He calls

me to till.

Perhaps it is only a stone to be taken up and cast away, or a seed to be nourished and watered! But God's purpose will be thwarted; yea, the Will of the Most High God, the Lord of Heaven and Earth, will be hindered, if I neglect this purpose of my life!

Again; all my life is spent under God's eye. I am living before God at every moment, however unconscious I may be of my position, or however desirous of hiding myself from Him. Every voluntary act of the life He has given me,—not only my outward actions, but the most inward strivings of my heart and spirit,—every allowed thought,—every desire, every imagination,-every word spoken, is either an act of obedience to my Maker, or a violation of the duty I am laid

under to Him for this gift of life. All this is going on beneath His eye!

Lord, when I look back upon the past

years, and consider how false my view of life has been, how selfish, how sadly misspent and wasted; when I reflect how little I have done either for Thee, or for my fellow-men,—I am ashamed and confounded! I looked upon life as a time for pleasure, not for duty; and when great troubles came, I was offended, and could not understand Thy Providence; and when great troubles were spared me I made much of the little troubles; every hardship seemed grievous, every exertion distasteful, every privation an injury!

And now, how many years have flown! I can recall none of them. They are wasted years; precious time wasted! My own mouth