sweet verse: Consider the lilies, how they grow: they toil not, they spin not; and yet I say unto you, that Solomon, in all his glory, was not arrayed like one of these. If, then, God so clothe the grass, which is to-day in the field, and to-morrow is cast into the oven; how much more will He clothe you, O ye of little faith ?' And so He did clothe us; for my mother remembered that she had something put away, out of which she made me a cloak, and then she had money enough to buy one for herself. She told me, whenever I really wanted anything, to remember that verse, and God would supply my wants."

"So He will," exclaimed Uncle Nathan; and he wiped a tear from his sun-browned cheek. Now, there was a bright, warm spark away down deep in the good man's heart, but long years of earthly prosperity and growing selfishness had almost smothered it. Neither the sermon to which he listened weekly, nor yet the sad death of his only sister, had been the means of awakening his conscience, or fanning this spark to a flame. This was Jessie's mission. The honour of bringing this strong man to the feet of Jesus was withheld from the wise and

prudent, and reserved for this babe in knowledge. Scarce a day passed in which she did not impart some holy lesson, learned at her mother's knee, to the grey-haired man and his children. They were among men what the tree, the grain, and the fruit are to the natural world, for strength and service; she was the frail and beautiful, answering to the flower which gladdens the heart of the weary, or teaches humility to the proud. Her teachings fell as gentle as the perfumes from the flower, but great was the change they wrought. God's Word, and the house of prayer, are now highly esteemed by all in that family, save Aunt Hannah. She, poor woman, worn and weary, seems "joined to her idols,"toil and its wages. The farmer stands bold in his place of usefulness, a sturdy oak, with his sons like cedars around him; she, the frail flower, who found a shadow beneath his vine, has gone, her little mission accomplished, to bloom where the sun shall no more smite by day, nor the moon by night. Her sunny head lies low beneath the lily of the valley, but her spirit rests with Him in whose esteem one humble child is "of more value than many sparrows."

THE GREAT PREACHER. ST is above a year since we wrote for Early Days a short and most imperfect sketch of the greatest Physician who ever lived and laboured in our suffering world: One at whose lightest touch or simplest word disease and pain fled away like clouds before the morning sun.

We should like to remind you now of our dear Lord in the office of the greatest Preacher the world ever knew; whose sermons have come down to us as fresh, beautiful, and soul-stirring as when they first came from His living voice, among the far-off towns and villages of Judæa.

We are told that at an early age our Lord sat in the court of the grand temple at Jerusalem, hearing and asking questions of the most learned men of the Jews; astonishing the greyheaded elders by "His understanding" and youthful wisdom. And we also read that His sayings were so wonderful, that "Mary, His mother, kept them in her heart." But not until the age of thirty years did the Great Preacher enter upon the work of His ministry.

The first and longest sermon we have on record was preached on the top of a mountain near to Capernaum, the place in which our Lord usually dwelt, and overlooking one of His favourite lakes, which has been described by an eye-witness as "sleeping calmly and softly as the sea of glass which St. John saw in heaven." We read, too, that a multitude of people from the cities and villages round was the first congregation gathered to hear the first sermon of the "Great Preacher;" and surely never so short and lovely a text was preached from before as the one word "blessed," spoken again and again. To the poor in spirit, to the mourners, to the meek, to the hungry and thirsty after righteousness, to the merciful, to the pure in heart, to the peacemakers, and to the persecuted, were given

How must every bent head have been raised to hear words like these, and every troubled heart soothed, as the Great Preacher cast His kind eyes upon them, and lifted His clear voice on their behalf!

Most likely many children would be among the hearers, and saw the Great Preacher, and heard His gracious words. At least we may add that when, in the midst of His sermon, our Lord began His great prayer, which bears His name, it might have been intended for the little ones, so sweet and childlike are its opening words :"Our Father,' though it end with a "kingdom of power and glory." How very strange must the truth have sounded to His hearers, that they were henceforth to love their enemies, and to pray for those who despitefully use them," that they 'might be the children of their Father in heaven;" who, in His great love to all His creatures, had made "His sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sent His rain on the just and on the unjust."

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Most likely, too, in such a mixed company, there would be the poor present, who

row's bread was to be found. Their hungry faces and scanty clothing must have been noticed by the Great Preacher, as He asked them to "behold the fowls of the air," which their "heavenly Father fed," and to "consider the lilies of the field," which He clothed; and then to doubt, if they could, His tender care and ready bounty for those who trusted in Him. Then what an invitation to prayer: "Enter into thy closet, and shut the door!" Not only the care-worn hearts and sinburdened consciences are thus to pray in secret, but little hands are to clasp before Him, and young eyes to look up to the Father of "great and small," sure of a gracious hearing, and the open reward of His favour and smile.

But the time would fail us to recall one half of the perfect teaching of the sermon on the mount. It is like a bundle of fragrant herbs, the more it is pressed to the heart, the sweeter it will become; and the child or grown-up person who bears it about in his daily life will fill all the house with its odour.

Sometimes the Great Preacher was very severe in his language, because He, like no other

preacher, could read the hearts of His hearers, and saw through all their pride, selfishness, and deceit. How dreadful must the rebuke, "Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees," have sounded from the mild lips that, in a few moments after, said to the true and contrite souls before Him, "Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest!"

On the banks of the river Jordan we are told that our Lord began to preach, when some mothers, drawn by His heavenly words, pressed forward with their little ones, hoping He might notice them. The disciples would fain have sent them away; but the pitying Master, with a displeased look at His servants, opened His arms; and, as the young children clustered in, He blessed them in such words as only Jesus could speak. We remember the story of a celebrated preacher, who took in his arms a little strayed child who was lost in the crowd round him, and held it until the end of his eloquent sermon, and then restored it to the anxious, weeping mother, with a prayer and a blessing. But how much better to have been clasped in the arms of Jesus, to have been one among

the many who felt the tender pressure of His hands, and to have heard from His own lips the promise that His little hearers might one day enter into the great congregation who serve God in His temple day and night!

For three years our Lord preached in all the cities and villages of the land. In the synagogues, on the vine-covered hills, and on the shores of the sea of Galilee, and by the lake of Gennesaret, His living voice reached thousands of hearers. The waving yellow corn, the sower casting his seed, the faithful shepherd, the sun in the heavens, the bird on the wing, the upturned face of a listening child, the very grass at His feet, were all subjects for His matchless sermons, which He continued to deliver until He was "betrayed to death" by the false and wicked Judas. His last Divine discourse was addressed to a few of His dearest friends on earth; and it has been well said, "Such words of tenderness were never whispered in this cold world before." They are far too sacred and beautiful to spoil with any words of ours. Only let us remember that as the Great Preacher began His first ser

Thus it flatter'd itself, poor, foolish thing!

And pitied the good little seeds;

their dread,

And their murmuring tones he

hush'd:

spring

From thoughtless and self-will'd deeds.