when the sinner awakes from the dream of this life, to find that he has loved everything and all things in the world save God, there must be a shame which burns deep down into his inmost heart; shame for neglected love, unsought mercy, deliverance uncared for; a shame so deep that he can but stand afar off with the publican and smite upon his breast saying, 'God be merciful to me a sinner!' Oh, surely, if some one of these dear ones may, through our instrumentality, be awakened now, ere it is too late, to this sense of shame, it becomes an additional reason and a most powerful incentive with us, to pray constantly and earnestly this prayer, 'Shew me a token for good.' For, let us think of the day which is coming, when all who are not brought to shame now will be first made sensible of it in the presence of Him who is come to punish the ungodly. To-day He is seated on a throne of grace, but then all who are unprepared to receive will have to cry, 'The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved.' Oh, this is too dreadful a thought to contemplate. Let us then take up the prayer more earnestly than ever, Shew me a token for good.' Let it be our daily prayer, beloved, let us pray it together, and also when absent one from another. As we separate now for a time to meet again, if we are permitted, at a future time, for the same holy and happy study of God's word, let us pray our prayer, and then when we do meet again, may we be able to tell of loving and gracious tokens which we have had from our Father's hand during the interval.

Should it be, beloved, as it may be, that some of us never meet again here, may our.next meeting be in a brighter home, where we shall no longer need the prayer, 'Shew me a token for good;' but where, looking back on all the way by which the Father's loving hand hath led us, whether in joy or sorrow, in light or in darkness, in prosperity or adversity, we shall be able to exclaim in

the closing words of the Psalm, 'Thou, Lord, hast holpen me, and comforted me.'

How weary and how worthless this life at times appears,
What days of heavy musings, what hours of bitter tears;
How dark the storm-clouds gather across the wintry skies;
How desolate and cheerless the path before us lies!

And yet those days of dreariness are sent us from above;
They do not come in anger, but in faithfulness and love;
They come to teach us lessons which bright ones could not yield,
And to leave us blest, and thankful when their purpose is fulfilled.

They come to draw us nearer our Father and our God,
More earnestly to seek His face and listen to His word,
And to feel if now around us a desert land we see,
Without the Star of promise, what would its darkness be?

Then turn not in despondence poor weary heart away,
But meekly journey onwards through the dark and cloudy day;
E'en now the bow of promise is above thee shining bright,
And soon a joyful morning shall dissipate the night.

.

Thy God hath not forgot thee, and when He sees it best,
Will lead thee into sunshine, will give thee hours of rest,
And all thy pain and sorrow, when the pilgrimage is o'er,
Shall end in heavenly blessedness and joy for evermore.

PSALM LXXXVIII. 1, 5-9.

DEPTHS OF SORROW.

O Lord God of my salvation, I have cried day and night before Thee:

'Free among the dead, like the slain that lie in the grave, whom Thou rememberest no more: and they are cut off from Thy hand.

"Thou hast laid me in the lowest pit, in darkness, in the deeps.

"Thy wrath lieth hard upon me, and Thou hast afflicted me with all Thy waves.

Selah.

'Thou hast put away mine acquaintance far from me; Thou hast made me an abomination unto them: I am shut up, and I cannot come forth. 'Mine eye mourneth by reason of affliction: Lord, I have called daily upon Thee, I have stretched out my hands unto Thee.'

THERE is in this Psalm a deep and plaintive cry, uttered by the Psalmist under most painful and grievous

depths of trial and suffering. And I cannot but believe that it ought to be placed alongside of such others as the 22nd and the 69th, which present to us as in a picture the sufferings of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. In its very opening, we have the same note of plaintive sadness as that which occurs in the 22nd Psalm, My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?' 'O Lord God of my salvation, I have cried day and night before Thee.' Ah, what are our prayers, dear Christian friends, even in our best moments; are they not cold, heartless, and lifeless when looked at in the light of this?

·

We might have supposed that of all who have ever lived upon the earth, the Son of God was the one who would need less than any other the strength derived from such constant supplication to His Father, I have cried day and night before Thee.' How was this manifested in the daily walk of Jesus while He sojourned in this world? Hear Him at the grave of Lazarus! Father, I thank Thee, that Thou hast heard Me, and I know that Thou hearest Me always.' Here was the outward proof of that inner life of prayer, which especially marked the history of the Man Christ Jesus. Doubtless there never was a moment in which He was not in close and intimate communion with His heavenly Father. Day and night He cried before Him, and day and night the Father's ear was open unto His cry. Ah, beloved, would that we could in this matter follow His footsteps more closely, if only our dead hearts could be quickened into this spirit of prayer, 'praying always;' if only we could catch something of this blessed spirit of prayer and supplication, how should we rise above the sorrows and pains of earth into the calm rest and sunshine of the clear sky beyond! Should it ever be our lot to pass sleepless nights on beds of pain and suffering, what sweet hours we might enjoy, if we spent the time in pouring out our souls before Him, knowing that our voice, weak and trembling though it

might be, would yet enter into the ear of the Lord God of Sabaoth, and bring down upon us in that chamber of lonely suffering, an answer of such peace as the world. can neither give nor take away; a joy with which no stranger could intermeddle. Day and night.' There were many long nights which our Lord spent in prayer to His Father. One, a night to be had in remembrance of every Christian heart, a night of agony in the garden of Gethsemane, when the bitter cry was wrung from Him, ‘Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from Me.' How small are our most terrible sufferings, beloved, when compared with His ? Then let us, like Him, cry day and night,' and assuredly we shall have an answer in peace.

'Let my prayer come before Thee; incline Thine ear unto My cry.' This is the prayer of one who knew that no sooner had He uttered the cry, no sooner had it passed from His lips, than the ear of the Lord was inclined to hear it. The idea is that of one who bends his head in order to listen the more intently to a cry which has faintly reached his ears. Oh, let this be to us a joyful thought. Let us remember that He will draw near at the sound of your breathing, of your cry;' that His ear is inclined towards you, so as to catch the faintest whisper which may arise from your anguished heart. 'My soul is full of trouble, and my life draweth near to the grave.' Can we possibly mistake the allusion here? My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death.' None but He could speak thus. I am counted with them that go down into the pit, I am as a man that hath no strength.' It is as if our Lord would say, I was in the estimation of men of no strength,' when stretched upon the cross of death and shame, which I bore, O sinner, for thee, that thou mightest have everlasting life. Free among the dead, like the slain that lie in the grave.' The allusion here is not only to death,

but to a violent death, which is always implied in the word 'slain.' Beloved friends, all this He bore for us; and shall we shrink and hesitate to follow in His blessed footsteps, even if He calls us to suffering? How is it that we are so slow to follow in the steps of the earnest, constant prayer of which we have just been reading? Too often, alas, are our prayers mere outward forms from which the spirit, the life, the soul is wanting; too often do we only half realise the petition we offer; too often 'we ask and have not, because we ask amiss;' we ask not in faith, and we forget to look and wait for the answer. Who of us can say that we have cried day and night before Him? Ah, beloved, what do we not lose by this coldness and half-heartedness? When trouble or suffering comes upon the believer, if he is in the constant habit of taking everything at once to His Father in prayer, he instantly turns to Him with an urgent cry for help for the moment's need, and swift as a lightning flash the answer comes. Only let us trust Him with a more childlike faith, and even if the answer come not in the form which we expected or desired, it will surely come, it will not tarry.' Let us cry to Him, as He did to His Father, with entire self-abandonment, with the simple desire to do His blessed will, and to glorify Him even if it be in the fires; and then we shall realize in a degree, though faintly by reason of our faltering faith, the blessedness of being 'not alone,' for the Father will be with us. He never bids His people go into sorrow and pain, He always says, Come. He is with us in it, and so He says, Come with Me, learn of Me the sweet and holy lessons which I alone can teach you. Come ye yourselves apart unto a desert place, and rest awhile. Fear not, for I am with Thee. Trust Me, lean upon Me, abide in Me, and I will give you rest.

Thou hast laid me in the lowest pit, in darkness, in the deeps.' Ah, beloved friends, there are surely few