dangers have been imminent, strength when we were overcome with weakness, help when we thought no help was nigh; and thinking of the loving-kindness which has been so great toward us, we can but say, "Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits."

But while we raise our Ebenezers, we also "remember our faults this day." God has not failed in any of His promises; but we have not kept ours. We have broken covenants, unredeemed pledges, a general sense of failure, and a particular recollection of special delinquencies to mar our retrospect of the year. We are full of regrets, indeed, as we look back upon our own work, our own attempts at excellence. It is very mournful that year after year, when the Christmas joy is over, we have to hang our harps upon the willows and mourn.

And yet there is a comfort for us even in this. We can count upon the forbearing love of God, and know that if we go to Him confessing our sins and shortcomings, He will receive us graciously, and love us freely, and pardon us abundantly.

So, although we are full of sorrow and sadness as we think of ourselves, we can be brightened and raised as we think of our God, and lay aside our burden of woe because of His mercy.

There is one thought that ought to comfort us; we are a year nearer to our heavenly home, where sin and trouble will be quite things of the past. It is a dreary journey, whatever we may try to persuade ourselves; and that we have so much less of it to pass over should be a source of joy. A little further, and we shall see the golden city gleaming before us, and feel with a sweet sense of rest and peace that our pilgrimage is over. God guide us safely through the years until the last shall bring us there!

The wild winds wail for it outside;
So let them carry it away;
The snow is falling; let it hide

The old year from the sight of day.

Why should we mourn it as a friend?
It wore the stern face of a foe;
The weary hearts that watch its end,
Its hands have overwhelmed with woe.

The year is dying? Let it die !
Great evil and small good it gave;
And hosts who met it trustingly
Have gone before it to the grave.

And yet the year is not to blame
For evil that bad men have wrought,
Theirs was the sin, be theirs the shame,
For fair scenes into ruin brought.

The year was but a servant given
For guidance and for sacred use,
For love of God, and hope of heaven,
And they have clothed it with abuse!

So let it die, the sad old year,

And let the new one take its place;
We yield to it the parting tear,

And ask for it God's pardoning grace,

And take the young year by its hand,
God make it better than the last,

A glad new-comer to each land,

An old friend when its days are past.

What is the Use of Holidays?

THIS may appear a very strange question to ask. But still there are people who do ask that very impertinent question, "What is the good of holidays?" And they ask it with a very marked and special reference to those of the Christ

mas and New Year. There may be, they admit, though somewhat ungraciously, a little sense in taking a holiday in the summer, when it is possible to walk by the sea-side, or breathe the mountain air, and in solitude and rest get real recreation. But winter holidays, say these grumblers, are not holidays at all. The fact is, you work twice as hard as usual in them; and not only so, but by indulgence in late hours and unsuitable meats and drinks, you bring your bodies into a state which is unable to resist or endure fatigue. Holidays, indeed! How do you feel at two or three in the morning, after spending six or eight hours in a crowded room? Is there any weariness to equal it? Did a day's work ever tire you like a day's holidaykeeping at Christmas-time?

Well, perhaps not. But we certainly do not mind it as much. It is better to get tired now and then at pleasuretaking than at work. At least, this kind of weariness has for many thousands of people the charm of novelty. And excitement and gaiety, although they do leave headaches and sometimes even heartaches behind them, are, upon the whole, and taken sparingly, not bad things. And if we are asked what is the use of Christmas holidays, we have no difficulty in finding an answer. They bring relaxation. For a good part of the year we are engaged in earning money; but at the Christmas holidays we do nothing but spend it, and that is a thorough change. We are so busy generally that we dare not sit long at table, or lie late in bed, or spend precious morning light in reading entertaining literature. A hasty glimpse at the war telegrams after breakfast, and a skim over the pages of the general news of the paper have to suffice. But in the Christmas holidays we can spend whole hours in reading the tales of the Christmas numbers of the various periodicals without so much as a whispered remonstrance from conscience. And, what is even better still, we can, for a few days, at all events, live romance. What love-making takes place in these holidays! How the young folk love them -and each other!

There are blissful meetings after cruel absences-meetings that are full of poetry of the very highest order. There is so much to be said, so much more to be looked, and most of all to be felt. The course of true love which

has got crooked has to be made smooth again, and of course there must be delicious reconciliations after imaginary estrangements. Besides these things, so much has to be settled for the future that the holidays are scarcely long enough for all that has to be done in them. What is the good of Christmas holidays, indeed! If a census could be taken of all the marriages which result from the fortnight or month commencing, let us say, on December 23rd, there would be a very obvious answer to such a question.

But, besides being the harvest of the young, the Christmas holidays have many uses. In this hard, money-getting age-this age of tremendous work of heart and hands and brain, when life is such a rapid, railroad thing, and the strain and pressure upon individuals is so great-if it were not for a few holidays, what would become of us? A little rest, or even a change of labour, may save us from breaking down altogether. And then it is a good thing to have leisure and opportunities for the amenities of life, good for old friends to meet again, and talk over bygone days and mutual acquaintances, good to revive pleasant memories, good especially to think and talk and sing of a happier time to come-a more complete reunion in our Father's house," when we shall have entered into "the rest that remaineth for the people of God."

Holidays are of great use, particularly Christmas holidays.

But no doubt they might be better still. There need not be quite so much extravagance. It is surely not absolutely necessary to keep such late hours! Some kinds of amusement, too, might be avoided. There should be no excess of any kind, unless, indeed, an excess of charity be excepted. More might be given away, and less kept to ourselves.

Above all, let Christians remember the apostle's injunction, "Whether, therefore, ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God." And then the Christmas holidays will be really useful and good.

A Happy New Year.

WE scatter our New Year's wishes very indiscriminately, though, let us hope, not too indiscriminately to be sincere. And, without having received any prophetic inspiration, we are pretty well able to guess who among our friends will have a happy new year, and who will not.

Not that we pretend to tell in the least what the coming months will bring, whether they will be bright or sorrowful, glad or sad. The future is hidden from everybody, and keenness of vision cannot penetrate into it. But we feel instinctively, as we look in people's faces and hold their hands, that whatever comes, some are certain to be happy and some are certain not to be.

For the fact is that circumstances have less to do with happiness than we are apt to imagine. When we wish our friends a happy new year, we mean that we want them to have pleasure and prosperity, and health and honour, all the gains and none of the losses of life. But we must know, if we have lived long and thought much about it, that happiness really does not depend upon such things. It comes from an inward rather than an outward source. Cannot you remember, as you look back, that the years during which you have suffered most have really not been the most unhappy ones? And the years in which you have been spared much sorrow have been the years of least worth to you? So that the happiness of this year will depend not so much upon what comes to us as upon what we are in ourselves.

It seems almost a mockery even to wish some people a happy new year, because one feels so sure that they will not get it. They may have prosperity; even a fortune may be left to them, but they will be sour and miserable still. They will go on to envy and backbite their neighbours, ay, and their friends too for the matter of that; they will judge harshly, and speak maliciously, and foster within themselves all hatred and uncharitableness, and then grumble and repine because they are not as happy as other people. Have they ever read such words as these, "With the measure ye mete it shall be measured unto