seemed to have been touched as with a seraph's hand; and yet almost as soon as he had put on the robes of office, he had to put them off, and die. If this be all, how unsatisfactory life is! Well might the patriarch say,-"Now my days see no good.” This is not all. No part of life is lost, none of its real treasures are lost, nothing spiritual ever dies. All our culture, toil, and business have their results in the formation of character, in the permanent realities of life. A true man, a Christian, can say when he dies,-I am going to live.

3. If the present be all, life must be most unsatisfactory, for our days can see no good. How perfect every form of life is. How complete the growth of the tree-it is perfect. How beautiful the flowerit is perfect. How rich the song of the bird-it is perfect. We are only in the childhood of our being, feeling the consciousness of powers that are not yet unfolded, of capacities for a higher life. Everything else appears to accomplish its end, but as for man how vain his life; he may well look up and say, "Remember how short my life is; wherefore hast thou made all men in vain ?" I wonder he should live in such a world, with such memories of the past, where science makes such rapid strides, where knowledge is progressive, where the race instead of the man is in course of education, and having long left childhood behind is fast advancing to the fulness of manhood. Oh why is life given-why such budding

hopes, if never to be realised? Why has the soul wings, if only to bruise them against the bars of its cage, and never unfold them in the heavens? This is not all, else "vanity of vanities" might be written as the epitaph of every child of man.

III. Our text suggests to us the importance of lifeOur days are as a post.

1. They carry with them the records and impressions of our minds. They are swifter than a post. The post conveys from town to town, from city to city, from continent to continent, the thoughts of men; it represents the intelligence of the age-it is the expression of its life, the circulation of its thoughts. There are communications on business,— tidings of passing events,-assurances of love. What wealth a single post bears. How these letters will speak, will create new works, will stimulate to new endeavours. How thought, not spoken, but written, simply placed before the mind, will live, and act, and reproduce itself. What different effects are produced by the delivery of the letters that come by the same post-what light-what darkness. Our days may be "swifter than a post," but they bear our thoughts, the records of our mind; these are borne by every post into the undying world. Our thoughts livethey are the letters we have written, each with its own superscription, each with its direction.

If you are a Christian, some thoughts go before you into the far-off land-go to prepare a place for

you, go to assure your Father that you long to see His face in righteousness, go to commune with Him meanwhile. Nothing which proceeds from the higher life, nothing which comes of man's mind and conscience can perish. Thoughts for good or for evil must live-must live to be a blessing or a curse. The thoughts of to-day will partake of the eternity of our life. Every man's mind, to the eye of God, is the memorial, distinct and legible, of the past; his uttered thoughts, his communications, his prayers-these are the records of the inner life of the soul, If your days are "swifter than a post," think what, they bear: are they thoughts you would wish to read again, would wish perpetuated, would wish to be judged by? Are they thoughts of the earth, earthy, or thoughts that like birds fly towards heaven as their home?

2. Our days carry with them the treasures of our hearts. They are "like the swift ships,"—what treasures they convey from one land to another, how they enrich one country with the wealth of others. Life is passing; our days carry the wealth, the priceless affections of our nature. If like the swift ships, yet these ships have their port, if they crowd all sail, it is to reach their desired haven. Each vessel has its freight, and this determines its destination. When ships meet at sea, they ask, -Where from?-where to? Let me ask where are you bound, where are you sending your treasures? What are the most precious things of life.

in your estimation? What the things with which you have freighted the swift ships for those distant shores? If the heart be given to Christ, an abundant entrance shall be ministered unto you into the everlasting kingdom.

They are like

Life has an

3. Our days have a definite end. "the eagle that hasteth to the prey." end. Is it to amass wealth?—this is sad; is it to gratify your appetites ?-this is sadder still. What is the end you propose? Is it worthy of life-is it the end for which God has so richly endowed you? Can you say, "As for me I will behold thy face in righteousness; I shall be satisfied when I awake in thy likeness." If life be so brief, make the most of it, use all its opportunities, seek to be prepared for death. In the midst of our grave-yards we hear the voice of Christ saying, "I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live, and he that liveth and believeth in me shall never die. Believest thou this?"

THE LAW OF NATURE AND OF LIFE.

"And surely the mountain falling cometh to nought, and the rock is removed out of his place. The waters wear the stones: thou washest away the things which grow out of the dust of the earth; and thou destroyest the hope of man.”—JOB xiv. 18, 19.

It is enough for a man to find himself in the darkness, and in the darkness to cry out, "My God, why hast thou forsaken me?" without being forsaken by men. It is enough for a man to suffer, without his sufferings being intensified by the alienation and estrangement of his friends. It is enough for a man to be perplexed by the mystery of Divine dispensations, without those dispensations being interpreted as a Divine handwriting against him. There is a mystery in this one life, which has engrossed the attention of men in all subsequent ages,—what mystery there is in it still. If the patriarch of Uz could listen to all the criticism of his commentators, his patience would be more severely tried than by his contemporaries.

We are accustomed to speak of this as an advanced age. We speak with some feeling of contempt of ages long gone by, but a careful study of this book