It was then that we had "

night." (Psa. xlii. 8.)

songs in the

Our "reins in

structed us in the night seasons." (Psa. xvi. 7.) It was "in the night that we remembered the name" of our God, (Psa. cxix. 55,) and "desired him with our souls" (Isa. xxvi. 9); "meditating on him in the night-watches." (Psa. lxiii. 6.) It was "in the night" that "he led us with a light of fire." (Psa. lxxviii. 14.) It was in the night that "the dew lay upon our branch," (Job xxix. 19,) and with the dew there came down the manna; for the manna and the dew fell together, (Num. xi. 9,) so that out of the bosom of the darkness there came at once nourishment and freshness. It was then that we were taught sympathy with a groaning creation, taking part in its "earnest expectation," and waiting for resurrection even as it is looking out for restitution; it was then that we were taught to know our high office, as those who have the first

fruits of the Spirit, "to lead (as one has written) the choir of all-complaining nature;" for it was then that the Spirit's power came forth upon us to tune the chords of our manifold being, that they might give forth the true note of mingled hope and sadness, peculiar to creation in its present low estate; and when we were fretting under the touch, and perhaps, with sentimental weakness, talking of broken strings and a blighted life, the hand of the great Master-tuner was upon us, giving to each rebellious chord its proper tension, that from the re-tuned instrument there might come forth that special harmony which he desires to draw from it in this present age-that special harmony by which he is to be glorified on earth, until Eden comes again and the wilderness blossoms as the rose.*

Thus even the philosophic German could express the apostolic thought respecting creation, and give utterance to his sympathies: "When I stand all alone at night in open nature, I feel as though it were a spirit

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It was then that we could make the utterance of Jacob's patient faith our own, "I have waited for thy salvation, O Lord;" subscribing ourselves to our fellow saints as your companion in tribulation and in the kingdom and patience of Christ (that is, in patient waiting for his kingdom). It was then that these words of blessed cheer fell so sweetly on our ears, "He who testifieth these things saith, Surely I come quickly," drawing forth from our lips the glad response, "Even so, come, Lord Jesus." And it was then that, while learning thus to plead "make haste,' we also learned to say with the Bride, "A bundle of myrrh is my well-beloved

Often have I had the

and begged redemption of me. sensation as if nature, in wailing sadness, entreated something of me, so that, not to understand what she longed for, cut through my very heart."-Goethe, quoted by Olshausen on the Romans. And another has thus written: "Even in the things of the world around us there is an element of life, a yearning of what is bound, which, like that Memnon statue, unconsciously makes symphony when the ray touches it from above." SCHUBERT, cited by the same.

unto me, he shall lie all night in my bosom." (Sol. Song i. 13.)

Blessed and profitable, however, as we have found the night with its still seclusion and solemn teachings, it is not the morning nor the day. And its very darkness makes us long the more for the anticipated sun-rise-for" the flight of shadows and the eternal day-break."

Nor are we hindered from desiring the day. Impatience is forbidden, but not desire. Let us possess our souls in patience, for he is neither the brave nor the believ

ing man who says, "Let me die, for the cup is bitterer than I can drink;" but he who under the sorest grief can say, "Let me

live on and be useful, whatever may be the bitterness of the cup." But still we may long for the ending of the night. As in sickness we may long for health, and put forth all fit means for its attainment; so in darkness we may cry earnestly for the dawning, especially because we know that

God has a day in store for us after the night is done-a day which is to be far more than a compensation for all previous sorrow. For every night God has provided a morning, so that as we have many nights, we have also many mornings even here. They are not indeed "mornings without clouds," but still they are mornings whose cheering light lifts up the heavy spirit and brightens the faded eye.

But for the world, the children of the night, the heedless, pleasure-loving world, what morning is there, or what earnest of the morning? None. Or at least it deserves not the name of morning. Their

a moment.

sorrows are multiplied," because they have hastened after other gods. Their joy is but Their consolation is no better than a dream. They serve a god that cannot save, and that cannot comfort. Their portion here at the best is emptiness; and the end is the eternal blackness and the infinite despair. The tidings of God's