quers our fears, as they confront us one by one. As each day has its appointed task, so it has its sufficient measure of grace. To-day alone is ours. To-morrow is in the hand of God. Let that suffice us. He apportions the duties, the cares, the temptations, the joys, the sorrows of each day as it comes to us, and gives us grace according to all our need. It is the part of wisdom to throw our strength into the duty of to-day, and trust him to care for to-morrow.

There is one last river that we all must cross. It lies between us and the land of peace, our home. Often we shudder as we think of it. The stream is deep, the water is cold, the way is lonely, and it is shrouded in darkness. We do not pass through it like the children of Israel on the way to Canaan, a great army, marching shoulder to shoulder, cheering and encouraging one another as they march along. One by one we go down into the dark river, leaving our friends behind us on the shore. There are many to whom the thought of death is a haunting terror. The shadow of it broods over them continually, and they walk in the horror of great darkness. Some of the best Christians I have ever known "through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage." And there are few, we may be sure, at least of those who reach maturity, who have not at times groaned beneath the bondage of this fear. It is not the pangs of death that we dread, the pains of dissolution, but the darkness, the loneliness, the mystery of it makes us afraid. What lies beyond the veil we fear. Bunyan has painted the closing scenes

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of life with his accustomed power. Christian and Hopeful inquire if there is no other way to the Celestial City than the way of the river. The river was very deep, and they were stunned at the sight of it. They were told, "There is another way." "But there hath not any, save two, to wit, Enoch and Elijah, been permitted to tread that path since the foundation of the world, nor shall, until the last trumpet shall sound." Then they addressed themselves to the water, and Christian beginning to sink cried out, "I sink in deep waters; the billows go over my head; all his waves go over me." Hopeful encourages him: "Be of good cheer, my brother: I feel the bottom, and it is good." But poor Christian is in deadly fear. Ah, my friend, the sorrows of death have compassed me about; I shall not see the land that flows with milk and honey." And with that a great horror and darkness fell upon him. Hopeful cried, "Brother, I see the gate, and men standing to receive us "; but Christian rejoins, "it is you, it is you they wait for." Then Christian fell into a muse, and Hopeful said, "Be of good cheer; Jesus Christ maketh thee whole." Then the light broke in upon Christian, and he cried with a loud voice, "Oh, I see him again; and he tells me, When thou passeth through the waters I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee." Then they both took courage and soon they stood upon the farther shore. It is a vivid picture of the fears and the sorrows that beset us as we approach the river of death, and of the grace and comfort that

are imparted to us as we pass through the dark waters to the heavenly home. The waters of this river too shall divide as our feet touch the brink. I have known many Christians who were afraid to die; I have never known one who was afraid in the hour of death. While we live we have grace to live; in the latest hour we shall have grace to die. But dying grace will not be given to us until we enter the dark river.

"So I go on not knowing;

I would not if I might;

I would rather walk in the dark with God
Than go alone in the light;

I would rather walk with him by faith,
Than walk alone by sight."

Only let us be sure that we are following the ark of the covenant, that we are at peace with God, and seek to order our lives according to his will. Then all the promises are ours.

V

THE INEVITABLE PAST

"God requireth that which is past."

Eccl. 3:15

All things move in circles, says the preacher. He observes that endless repetition is the law of nature and of life, motion without progress. The sun, the wind, the waters alike illustrate the truth. "The sun also ariseth, and the sun goeth down, and hasteth to its place where it ariseth. The wind goeth toward the south, and turneth about toward the north; it turneth about continually in its course, and the wind returneth again to its circuits. All the rivers run into the sea, yet the sea is not full; unto the place whither the rivers go, thither they go again." Nature presents the spectacle of incessant toil, a weary Titan straining at impossible tasks. And the preacher sees here the figure of human life. Sun and wind and rivers have all one message. "All things are full of weariness; man cannot utter it." Yet nature has this advantage over man, that it abides eternal. "One generation goeth, and another generation cometh; but the earth abideth for ever." The earth in its steadfastness mocks the puny creature of an hour. The labor of to-day is repeated to-morrow. "That which hath been is that which shall be; and that which hath been done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing

under the sun." There is no pause nor rest. "All things are full of weariness; man cannot utter it." Emerson takes up the thought in his essay on Circles. "The eye is the first circle; the horizon which it forms is the second; and throughout nature this primary picture is repeated without end. It is the highest emblem in the cipher of the world."

History repeats itself. The nations march in single file, each treading in the footsteps of its predecessors. Precedent, the guiding principle of statesmen and judges, what is it but the hand of the past shaping and directing the present? We constantly appeal to experience as our teacher. What is experience but the past instructing the present? The old mystics carried the thought into the region of the infinite and the eternal, declaring that God is a circle, whose center is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere.

There is no better commentary on many parts of Ecclesiastes, its moods and doubt and sensuality and cynicism, than the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. The thought of the circular movement of history is presented in a most striking and impressive way.

With Earth's first Clay They did the last Man knead,
And then of the Last Harvest sowed the Seed:
And the First Morning of Creation wrote
What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.

This law of nature and of history prevails no less in the individual life. Are we done with the past? Have we broken with it, throwing it aside as a worn