who meant to deceive-would utter such words as these? Is not there something divine in the very contrast of their spirit and tone with that of those around him? And how is it now? These words, fresh as they are, commended and glorified as they are, are opposed to the conceptions, the spirit, the action, the world at large-so gentle, so deep, so far away, so noiseless are those beatitudes, as compared with the objects of human ambition, in the rushing tides of the world's movements. See what it is that the world grasps at-see what it takes as its vehicles of power and ideals of glory-and then tell me if Jesus Christ was mistaken—if he was teaching a doctrine too lofty, too divine for this world. Some will say, he never meant it for this world-only as a bright ideal of another-something to lead us upward and onward; but never designed to be realized here. Is that the meaning of the Sermon on the Mount? is that the design of the beatitudes?-something that we can not practicesomething too deep, too pure, too divine? or are they designed for this world? And if they are-if that is their true glory and real power-it is a great question to ask, what has been their effect upon the world's history? And here what a contrast is presented between the teaching of Christ and the practice of the world. For eighteen hundred years this beatitude has been proclaimed, "Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy ;" and what is the state of the world even now? No doubt, to some extent-we may even

say, comparatively, to a great extent that sentiment of mercy has leavened the world; but as yet, how far is the opposite spirit triumphant? We say that science has been serving the spirit of Christ's beatitudes-that it has been in reality the agent of the loveliness of his teachings; that it has helped to make men more merciful; that it has helped, by the vehicles of power, to weld nations together, and bring men's hearts into one. And what else has it done? Some of the most expert and wonderful things that it has accomplished have been in making weapons of war. Men kill one another now by chemistry and mathematics, by deadly weapons, to which science has lent all its energy and

resources.

No doubt society has felt the influence of the beatitudes of Jesus Christ. We shall see an exhibition of it this week. These anniversaries are, no doubt, a result of the beatitudes-celebrations of Christ's mercy, each in a different way; some in a very narrow, straitlaced way; still, they are all based on the idea of mercy, and are beautiful illustrations, as far as they go, of the effects of Christ's teachings.

But, my friends, how far has this influence gone? What may be taking place in Europe this very day? Its fields may be bristling with a harvest of bayonets; the rumble of cannon may be shaking all the land from the Baltic to the Mediterranean; the cry of war may be going up under all that sky which spans the proudest domes of Christendom. Hosts may be marching

under cathedral crosses, and war may be pouring its terrible devastations through those humble hamlets whose best possessions had been the faith that sent up the morning and evening prayer.

O Piedmont! O Lombardy! O magnificent theater of Nature, crowned by God's sublime Alps! Even to day the Ticino may be red with blood, and the Po choked with slaughter. The clouds of war are hanging upon the ridges of the Alps, sheathing the lightning that is to be launched upon the fertile plains of Lombardy, and darkening with their terrible shadows her beautiful lakes.

And why? Because men do not believe that it is blessed to be merciful; because despots dare take the earth as a gaming-board, and men as counters, to play their mean, selfish, ambitious games in the face of God Almighty and the teachings of Christ Jesus.

How far is this beatitude believed? Is there any power in it, any glory? Yes, the power of God Almighty, the power of Jesus Christ, is in the spirit of mercy. Bayonets, cannon, human implements of war are weak before that power in the end.

Power! Where is it? Not in armed men, not in governmental facilities, not in fortifications, not in engines of murder. But I will tell you where there is power. Where the dew lies upon the hills, and the rain has moistened the roots of the various plants; where the sunshine pours steadily; where the brook runs babbling along; there is a beneficent power!

Mightier than the hosts of armed men are green blades, rising up in serried ranks, furrow after furrow, making ready for the harvest. For what would be human power without God's daily bread? What would be the implements of war if the earth should withhold its resources-if the sun did not shine and the rain did not fall?

Ah, we depend on God's mercy after all, and that is to us more than everything else. They must go down, the fearful symbols of man's passion and guilt, before the meek beauty of that power which was in Jesus Christ. That is true glory, and men recognize it. We embalm in grateful memory, not the warrior, not the soldier-though often we think too much of him—not the blood-dripping soldier, but the benefactor; above all, we place Christ, as a manifestation of the glory of mercy.

Oh, man, there is power, there is glory in the meek, quiet beatitude, although the world does not notice it. Wherever you manifest it in your daily walk, wherever you cherish this spirit of mercy, you will have Christ's power and glory. And remember, here and everywhere, that at God's right hand, when scepters have been broken, when the warrior's garments rolled in blood shall have been cast away, when the symbols of this earth's glory and power are dimmed-remember, even at the right hand of God, this is power, this is glory, enduring and divine; for "Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy."

CHRISTIAN HUMILITY.

Whosoever shall humble himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven,-Matt. xviii, 4.

THE question which our Saviour, with a beautiful

symbolism, and with a profound truth, answers in the passage before us, had been a subject of dispute between his disciples-the question as to who should be greatest. The very propounding of such a question was in itself evidence of misconception as to the nature and conditions of the divine and spiritual estate; the bare idea of being the greatest, merely for the sake of being greatest, indicated a level of thought and feeling far below its lofty requirements. It brings those primitive disciples very distinctly before us, however; it makes them very real to us, as men like unto ourselves, to discern the gradual processes of divine truth in their minds struggling with the prejudices and limitations of our humanity; to see the vision of heavenly things slowly breaking through the darkness, leaving for a long while the shreds and fragments of grosser conceits drifting athwart its spiritual light.

If by inspiration we mean freedom from all miscon