she ought for her gracious Lord. She went about doing good, nursing the sick, begging for and giving to those poorer than herself. But at last she was taken with a violent cold and confined to her bed by rheumatism. There she was as happy as she had been while more active. One day an old friend called and said, "I little expected to find you so patient; it must be a great trial to lie here and do nothing." "Not at all, sir, not at all," was her earnest response. "When I was well I used to hear the Lord say to me day by day, 'Betty, go here; Betty, go there; Betty, do this; Betty, do that; ' and I used to do it as well as I could; and now I hear him say every day, Betty, lie still and cough.'" But it is not only the humble who have experienced this composing power. It is great enough for the great. A veteran statesman lies dying; by his side sits a great merchant prince of a different political persuasion, but of the same religious persuasion. What is it that brings comfort to the dying statesman? The discussion of questions of economy; the rehearsing of his great campaigns? No. But Samuel J. Randall lays a thin hand over his fluttering heart, saying, "I have peace," and then pointing to a Bible lying open on John Wanamaker's lap, he says, "I found it there." With the same faith you and I can sing composedly,

'Peace, peace, sweet peace! Wonderful gift from above,

O wonderful, wonderful peace! Sweet peace, the gift of
God's love."

(c.) But we are witnesses, too, of the consoling power of the Holy Spirit when death has robbed us of those dear to us as life. Have you ever been a witness of this power? I have. I have stood beside a young mother, who for hours had been sitting, holding her first born on her bosom, while the little one breathed

out slowly the breath of life, and praying God for help and strength for the coming trial. I have seen her as the hours crept on in the early morning, when the tide of life ebbs so low, and the little one "fell asleep," looking up toward heaven with a face in which faith was marked even stronger than pain, and in which hope was stronger than despair, cry with a groan which cannot be uttered, "O God, open wide your arms and take my little baby." From such a scene as that I turned with firmer faith and deeper devotion, because I had seen the power and felt the power of the Holy Spirit to comfort and console.

But some one says, "I don't find such comfort; I have never felt this converting, composing or consoling power of the Holy Spirit." I am sorry for such a one. This may be the reason. I have said this is an internal as well as external witness. It is more internal than external. I John, 5:10 says, "He that believeth on the Son of God hath the witness in himself." If you do not believe in Jesus Christ you cannot have this internal witness. Paul says, (Romans 8:16,) "The spirit beareth witness with our spirits that we are the children of God." Do you feel that you are a child of God? Once when I was in very deep distress, when the billows were going over my head, I received a great many letters, very sweet and very comforting. Praise God for human sympathy. It speaks to us of the divine sympathy. But amongst these letters was one especially helpful, not so much for what it contained, as for the fact that it was written in a, to me, familiar handwriting, and began, "My child," and was signed, "Your father." If so and if you can take this word of his as a letter from a loving father to a dear child, then you will find comfort in it and the consolation of the Holy Spirit will be yours. But another cries, "Oh, it's all such a

mystery to me. I cannot understand it all." Poor child, what would it be if you could understand it? Do you remember how many things were mysteries to you when a child that are all plain now? And yet you are only a child somewhat grown. Even Paul did not say, “Behold, I show you the explanation of how we pass from death to life." No. He said, "Behold, I show you a mystery, we shall be changed." Mystery? Aye, a glorious mystery. And better for me the mystery of the gospel than the mistiness of agnosticism. Better for me the mystery of the future life than the mysticism in this life. Better, a thousandfold, for me to see "through a glass darkly "than not to see at all.

A few years ago I traveled out to our northwestern coast. My friends there had written me of the beauties of their great guardian mountain, Mt. Tacoma. Travelers on the way who had seen it told me of its glories. I had a desire to see it. When we crossed the mountain range at early dawn I was watching for it, but it was nowhere in sight. Finally I said to a fellowtraveler, "Where is Mount Tacoma?" "It ought to be right over there," he replied, "but I fear you will not be able to see it for the mists. But I kept watching in the direction he had indicated, and suddenly as we rounded a spur of the mountain chain, away up through the clouds, towering in imperial grandeur above the little hills about it, was a great white breast of mother earth, and I had just time to say, "That must be Mount Tacoma," when it was gone. That glimpse was the only view I had of it. From the valleys below and from the streets of the cities on the sound, morning after morning, I turned my eyes mountainward, but I could not see it. Yet I doubted not it was there. One day from a sparkling stream of water dashing into the sound I drank a refreshing draught, and when I asked,

"Whence this cool, clear water?" my friends replied, "From the mountains," but I could not see them. Yet

I doubted not my friends. I received the witness of men in regard to that mountain of earth. The witness of God to Mount Zion is greater. We cannot see it now for the mists of life. Occasionally we catch may be a glimpse or are refreshed by the streams that flow down from that hidden source; but some morning, bright and fair, we will wake up and the clouds will all be . cleared away, and before us will tower in glory the city of our God, the mountain of his holiness, the streams whereof make glad this earth.

Text:

THE CERTAINTIES OF RELIGION.

BY REV. HENRY NEILL,

*

Pastor First Presbyterian Church, Flint.

“It seemed good to me also, having had perfect understanding of all things from the very first, to write unto thee in order, most excellent Theophilus, that thou mightest know the certainty of those things wherein thou hast been instructed." Luke 1:3-4.

Among the interesting movements in our modern religious thinking and life, there is none more significant than the return to the apostolic period for study, for imitation, and for spiritual cultivation. The proximity of the period to the historic Christ gives it untold value. The truth is undisguised and applied directly to the mind and heart. The simplicity of Christianity makes an appeal that seems to one to be irresistible, and all this gives a power and attractiveness to that early period which has caused a renewed study of the spiritual forces which, even in their incipiency, were so regnant. In order to the application of the Christianity of Christ in those days the method employed by Luke

* Henry Neill was born in Amherst, Mass., Jan. 20, 1845. He was educated at Williston Seminary, East Hampton, Mass.; two years at Center College, Danville, Ky., and two years at Princeton College, class 1868. Graduated from Princeton Seminary in 1872. Pastor Presbyterian church, Schaghticoke, N. Y., 18721880; Christ Congregational church, Westfield, N. J., 1880-1886; First Presbyterian church, Highland Park, Ill., 1886-1895; First Presbyterian church, Flint, 1895-.