the law of God, in the heavens or upon the earth, the obedience of men.

If now, drawing down our gaze, we look around us upon men, we see the forms of them, we dissect their powers, we study their actions, we listen to their language, we imagine their destiny. But of late we have come to think very much of their origin, from what they sprang, through what forms of life by slow approaches they have come to be men, the crowning work of God upon the earth. It is an exceedingly interesting study, and we cannot wonder that we have become fascinated with it. But after all, what is the chief point of it? We have found, we say, even now we have found, how man has come to be the man, and we trace his kinship to the world of life which from the smallest form has risen to its loftiest estate. But what is the chief point of it? After all, standing delighted in our new opinions, what is a man? Surely, not anything we see, not that which is born, and moves about the streets, and wakes, and sleeps, and dies, and goes back to the earth out of which it came. That is not man. The chief point of man is in his spirit, in his soul, in his power to think, to love, to hold fellowship with himself and with other men, and with the Maker of all men. The chief point of man is the breath of the Eternal which has made him man. The narrative which we read is very

realistic in its portrayal. In a very simple form, in a picture which is little more than an outline, the truth is presented to us, that the Creator has given to men of his own breath, till they live in the image and likeness of God. Whatever we know of a man, we do not know him until we know that by virtue of which, in whatever way he is related to other forms of life, he is more closely related to the Eternal Life which was in the beginning.

It is interesting to know our rise from forms below us, but it is of much greater moment to know that we have the life which is from above us. "Love the inmate, not the room;

The wearer, not the garb; the plume

Of the falcon, not the bars

Which kept him from the splendid stars."

More than this we are to know, that the spirit in which our divine life consists is sustained by the life of which it is a part, and is constantly reinforced by the inspiration of Him who has given us our being. Life is continually to advance, to increase in power, in aspiration, in accomplishment. At last it will become so great that this body which surrounds it is no longer large enough and will disappear, while the life will go forth in some new and freer form, to live forever. Certainly, it cannot be for very long that our enlarging life can be content with these limits which suffice for

seventy years. We cannot always spare a third of our time for sleep, or consent to the infirmities of age, when "they that look out of the windows are darkened." Very beautifully did St. Paul describe this in words whose meaning we are reluctant to perceive. He seems to have viewed man as living in a house of snow. What other house could it be which would dissolve? Where had he seen snow, unless it were upon the heights of Hermon, where it lingers through the year? Though this tent that we are dwelling in upon the earth shall melt away, when it has melted away, we have another house to follow it. It brings up the play of our boyhood, when we raised our houses of snow, and sat within them; but they were cold, they were narrow, we could move but a step and we touched the walls. After a time the house melted, but the boy was left out on the open field where he had room enough; the house had melted, not the boy. Day by day this is going on around us, yet we do not rejoice in the new liberty, the larger room to live in. We call it by sad names. We set it in sombre symbols. Affection is strong and tender, companionship of those we love, and the world is never the same when they have gone out of it. Let us speak gently of our natural and sacred sorrows. Yet can we not rise, and even

It is not strange.

and we need the

through our tears see the chief point, the meaning of the dissolving of the house? God's angels come by two and two. To the child of God the Angel of Death comes in company with the Angel of Life. Sometimes we open the door and Death comes in. We close it quickly, leaving the other without. The dark form sits beside the hearth and makes the room silent and sad, while Immortality waits upon the outer steps. Perchance, presently, we open the door again and let him come in. He brings the intent of God, and we are comforted. In the thought of God the chief point of death is immortality. The whole tone of the New Testament teaching is like this. The life advances steadily; at length, in an hour it breaks away and is free. The victory is won. The trumpets sound, and in the glorified body the immortal spirit walks with God.

It is the great sorrow of our heart, its great burden, that we have so often failed to see the chief point of our life. Whatever, wherever its years may be, it is meant that the likeness of God which was created shall be the likeness of God in our endless way; that the thought of God shall be forever the thought of the man, and that he shall live like his Maker, in righteousness and love. We have no higher word than godliness. To be like God in our intention, our will, our

deed, is the highest attainment which life can achieve. But this we have not reached. The consciousness which saddens us, the vision which every day accosts us as we walk abroad, the daily knowledge of the world we live in, the refrain of history for weary centuries, remind us that godliness has not been preserved; that is, that the meaning of life has been lost, that its chief point has been missed. Shall it always be so? It is Christ himself who answers our inquiry, giving new spirit and form to the promise which from the first has been the comfort of those who received it, and has been expressed in many ways. Let us recall this, "Thou hast destroyed thyself, but in me is thy help." The Son of God came into the world, the incarnate thought and love of God, to do away our past, to give to us once again the spirit of the beginning, to enable us to live our life once more, and to live it truly.

It is interesting to mark that the word which in the New Testament describes the course of men and one of the words which in the Old Testament describes it employ the same illustration. Both are taken from archery. When in the summer time, upon the broad lawn of a friend, the target is set up, and skilled hands are sending the arrows to the mark, you wish to show your skill. The bow is placed in your hands, the arrow flies, and the boy