tians to keep account of what they give, that they might surprise themselves by seeing how small is the annual amount. The Jews gave

a tithe, shall we of the better dispensation do less? Let every man do as God hath prospered him. "He which soweth sparingly shall reap also sparingly, and he which soweth bountifully shall reap also bountifully. Every man according as he purposeth in his heart, so let him give; not grudgingly, or of necessity for God loveth a cheerful giver."

If every week a portion were put away for God there would always be something in store for His cause and His poor. Three millions of money raised yearly in England for works of piety and charity,-more than one hundred millions spent on intoxicating drink. And what is the case with us personally? Is there not as great a disparity between the expendiour individual luxuries and indulgences, and the amount given to God? And even this comparison is incorrect. For no giving rises to the standard of sacrifice, unless there be the self-denial or the surrender or something whose loss is felt. The balance should be struck between all that we expend on ourselves and all we give to the Lord, all that we receive, and all that we consecrate to

ture on

His service, all that we owe unto God and all

that we pay. It is as much a part of Christianity to give as to pray. Offerings are a necessary part of worship, as much as melodious praises. God is always giving; giving in the sunshine, giving in the showers, giving in the fruitful seasons. His Providence is lavish and generous. And above all "He spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all." "How much owest thou unto thy Lord?

"Is thy cruse of comfort wasting?
Rise and share it with another;
And through all the years of famine
It shall serve thee and thy brother.
Love divine shall fill thy storehouse,
Or the handful still renew :
Scanty fare for one will often
Make a royal feast for two.

"For the heart grows rich in giving ;
All its wealth is golden grain :
Seeds that mildew in the garner,
Scattered, fill with gold the plain.
Is thy burden hard and heavy?
Do thy steps drag wearily?
Help to bear another's burden,—
God shall bear both it and thee.

"Numb and weary on the mountain,

Would'st thou sleep amidst the snow?

Chafe that frozen form beside thee,
And together both shall glow.

Art thou stricken in life's battle?

Many wounded round thee moan; Lavish on their wounds thy balsam,

And that balm shall heal thine own.

"Is thine heart a well left empty?
Only God the void can fill,-
Nothing but a ceaseless Fountain
Can its ceaseless longings still :
Give thine heart a living power,—
Self-entwined its strength sinks low :
It can only live in loving,

And by serving love will grow."

I

XII.

NEVER expect to understand everything, any more than I expect to put the ocean into a tea-spoon, or to weight the Himalaya Mountains in a letter-balance.

But I refer not so much now to that which is vast and mysterious, as to that which I see every day and have been familiar with from my childhood. There are people and practices, acts and opinions that perplex me. They are like the sums used to be when I began compound addition, they won't "add. up," nor come right." There are persons who, like the rule of three, do "puzzle me," and whose "practice," if it does not "make me mad" (as the schoolboy rhyme runs) is sorely perplexing.

For instance, there are my neighbours Trundle and Dargent. Trundle is a hardworking man, with six small children and

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a weekly wage of thirty shillings. "From early morn till dewy eve" does Trundle have to toil, and must be sadly wearied sometimes when he gets home to his tea. Yet,a cheerful, active Christian,-Trundle is always at work for the church and the Master. Nearly all his evenings are occupied, and on Sundays he spends his mornings and afternoons in the Sabbath School, and yet manages to be present at both services and an early prayer-meeting into the bargain.

Now my other neighbour, Dargent, who lives in the large house on the hill, is a wealthy merchant. He, too, is a Christian man, and a member of the church. I see him ride down to business between nine and ten in the morning, and he generally returns to dinner by four. Once or twice in the year he and his family go off for weeks together to the sea-side or some other pleasant and healthful resort. Now, that is a luxury which Trundle's family have never tasted for a single day. Dargent, too, has servants, horses, and a carriage; whereas I believe Trundle doesn't possess even a perambulator, and certainly has to polish his own boots. Yet I never see Dargent at a prayer-meeting. He is not a Sabbath