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of self, because we have few aids and helps of a secondary sort. They are not many who have the blessing of being subject to any proximate superior; to any rule out of themselves, by which the detail of their life is ordered. More is thereby thrown upon the energy of the individual will. The need of some imposed discipline, which shall bear upon the actings of our inner nature, is wonderfully attested by the yearnings of thoughtful men at this time: on every side we hear them painfully striving to free themselves from the bondage of unmeaning and artificial habits, and to find some basis on which they may rest the full weight of their living powers. This has grown upon them, more and more, ever since the current of the world turned aside from the path of the Catholic Church. The more energetic, dominant, and mighty, the more learned, toilsome, and self-trusting it has become, the more hollow is it and untrue. "The world passeth away, and the lust thereof." It is confounded at its own perpetual changes: it sees that none of its schemes abide; that it daily grows more weary of toiling, and more transient in its toils. And why, but because it has divorced itself from the Church of the living God, and is resolving again into the incoherencies of its fallen state? All men are conscious of this even they that cannot explain the cause. They feel, when they are busied in the world, that

there is something empty, something which mocks
and wearies them: they feel that the leaning of
their worldly toil is away from God; that they are
moving in another direction; that their returns
to Him are by a sensible effort, and, as it were,
against a stream. They feel, too, that their daily
life is a hinderance to a life of devotion. It is dis-
tracting and importunate; it exacts too much ser-
vice, and repays with a perpetual weariness. All
the day long they are conscious that they have
fallen under the dominion of a power which is not
at one with God. They crave after something
through which they may submit themselves to the
realities of the eternal world. And for this end
was the visible Church ordained. To meet the
yearnings of our baffled hearts, it stands in the
earth as a symbol of the Everlasting; under the
veil of its material sacraments are the powers of an
endless life; its unity and its order are the expres-
sions of heavenly things; its worship, of an eternal
homage. Blessed are they that dwell within its
hallowed precinct, shielded from the lures and spells
of the world, living in plainness, even in poverty;
hid from the gaze of men, in solitude and silence
walking with God.

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Evde to Hurdley with
Billy Booker-


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"All seek their own, not the things which are Jesus Christ's."

THERE is something peculiarly touching in the saddened tone of these few words, in which St. Paul glances at the slackness of his fellow-labourers. It must have been a cross almost too heavy to bear without complaining, when from his prisonhouse at Rome he saw his brethren in Christ drawing off, one by one, from the hardness of their Master's service. It must have been a provocation almost beyond endurance to see, day by day, tokens of a faint heart and a selfish purpose coming out in the words and acts of those on whom he most depended. It added to his bondage the worst form of desolation-the loneliness of a high, unbroken spirit in the throng of shrinking and inconstant men. He had before now seen, in faithless and fearful Christians, open apostacy and undisguised


abandonment of Christ and His Gospel.
keenly as that must have entered into his soul, he
had in this to endure a still sharper trial. It was
this that pierced him to the quick for they of whom
he here writes were not open apostates. They were
not men who fell from the body of the Church,
and were severed wholly from his fellowship; but
men openly professing faith in Christ, keeping up
with him the same outward relation as partakers in
the same labour of love, and yet failing him in the
moment of danger, in the very pinch of a severe
trial. Such, for instance, was Demas; who is often,
but by mistake, supposed to have been an apostate
from the faith: he did not renounce his Christianity,
but fell back from the hardships of an apostle's life.
"Demas hath forsaken"-not Christ nor the Gospel
—but “ me, having loved this present world." He
had no like zeal or self-devotion with St. Paul:
they were unequally yoked together. Demas was
hurried, beyond his own choice, into dangers and
toils; he found St. Paul a perilous companion; he
loved the Gospel, but not less he loved his own life
and ease; and he fell back, from an apostle's
standing, to be an ordinary Christian.

This is probably a fair example of what St. Paul intended, when he told the Philippians, that he must needs detach Timothy, and send him unto

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them; for "I have no man like-minded, who will naturally care for your state: for all seek their own, not the things which are Jesus Christ's." We see, then, what he would express. It was the state of men in whom the first fervours of conversion had subsided. In an hour of ready zeal, they had forsaken all, and undertaken an apostle's work. It may be they were, for a long season, forward and stedfast, foregoing much, and enduring more; but at the last they grew weary of the monotonous hardship of preaching and suffering. And first, it may be, they began to spare themselves, and to use trifling evasions, or to keep unseasonable silence, and secretly to long for their discharge from a service now grown irksome. And this hidden disloyalty of the heart shewed itself in low views of what was possible in Christ's service, and in overrating of difficulties, in discouraging views, in untimely objections, and in expostulations at the very moment of action. In some of these ways they betrayed the disappointing truth, that self-regard had mastered them, and that love of self outweighed their love of Christ. There was a counterattraction overcoming the constraining love of their Lord. This, then, is the heart-sin of which St. Paul writes: it is a refined selfishness, so plausibly defended, so strongly entrenched in reasonable pleadings, as to leave him no more to do, than to

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