est who is truest to duty, most faithful to high ideals, most careful of his honor, and of that of the divine family to which he belongs.

But there is a reaction in the spiritual world that is similar to that known by the great poets of old, and is, at the same time, innocuous. It is the reaction from sorrow to gladness. There are many who will deny that there is any relation between sorrow and pain on the one hand, and joy on the other. Yet the connection is of the closest character. Indeed there is a sort of anguish in the highest pleasure-men may almost suffer pain because of it. "Ye shall be sorrowful," it was said to the disciples, "but your sorrow shall be turned into joy," and it was to be a joy that no man could take from them. Pleasure is, therefore, not the mere antithesis of pain, for it may grow out of it, precisely as the lilting, jubilant poetry in honor of spring grew out of the winter's night and cold. Scores and hundreds of illustrations might be given, but they are hardly necessary. The truly thoughtful man knows in his soul that genuine joy has its roots in the deepest experiences of life, that it is not a superficial thing, not mere mirth and laughter. There is a certain sober

ness, solemnity and reverence in it which differentiates it sharply from what religious writers call the joy of the world, what the writer of the Book of Ecclesiastes spoke of as "the crackling of thorns under a pot." There is no Christian joy, no joy such as has been felt by the great sorrowful men of the world, in the forced and advertised cheerfulness, in the false optimism, in the smirk of content, with which we so often meet, and which we are bidden to emulate. No more joyful being ever lived on earth than the Founder of our religion, and yet He was "a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief." It is well that we should have a philosophy of pain and sorrow that is true. We must look for it, not in any religion of the future, but in the religion of the past, the religion that teaches us to look on them as ministers to human perfection, as very elements in joy itself.

LE

LENT

ENT brings with it the thought of sin, and that is something of which people do not nowadays care to be reminded. Indeed, there are those who refuse to admit that there is any such thing. Religious systems are based on the theory that this world is altogether happy and joyous—that men are developed far beyond the old Christian idea. Nevertheless there are certain things connected with this subject that are at least interesting. Possibly a consideration of a few of them may be profitable. No man can read the Bible without being impressed with what at first seems to be the strange fact that so-called bad people are often more sensitive to the divine call than are socalled good people. By bad people is meant not mere sinners in the sense in which we are all sinners, but wicked men, men who are altogether out of the way. It behooves us to study such cases, especially during the season which

is set apart for such study. For it was sin that tempted Christ in the wilderness, sin that made His sacrifice necessary, and sin that has spoiled and is to-day spoiling human nature. Thinking of this subject we must be surprised to see how people who had violated every law of God and man have nevertheless been quick to respond to the promptings of conscience, and eager to hear the truth about their spiritual condition. Let us take two illustrations. God sent the prophet Jonah to preach to the people of Nineveh "Go to Nineveh, that great city, and cry against it; for their wickedness is come up before me." The message was delivered, immediate repentance followed, and the city was not destroyed. That the sin of the people was great we know. That their repentance was sincere is proved by the fact that forgiveness followed. Never was there a prompter response to the voice of God speaking through one of His servants. The other case is suggested by the words: "Then drew near unto Him all the publicans and sinners for to hear Him." Why did they come? What was it in Him that drew these men to Him? And why was He so kind and forgiving to them, and so gentle with them? A

city that was so wicked as to have brought on itself the threat of doom was saved because of its humble hearing of God's word. And the publicans and sinners rejoiced to hear the message delivered by Him who was infinitely pure.

Possibly we need to revise our judgments, possibly we should look for the hardened natures, for the careless and indifferent souls, rather in the churches than outside of them. Quite possibly there are in the world to-day millions on millions of humble and contrite hearts that have no relation whatever to organized Christianity. It was so of old, and it may be so now. The subject must of course be studied from two points of view, that of the preacher and that of the listener. In neither of the cases mentioned can there be any doubt that the voice of the preacher was the voice of God. The word of the Lord and nothing else was proclaimed by Jonah. There was no shrinking from the utter truth. Nothing was kept back or trimmed down. The personality of the preacher was lost in God, whose mouthpiece the prophet was. His mission was to bring infinite goodness and human wickedness face to face, and he performed it to the letter.