To feel and remember by the grace of God I am what I am,' to be angry against sin, and yet sin not. For this purpose let us commune with our own hearts: such communing can never come at a wrong time, but here is the choice time, the special opportunity in the silent watches of the night, when no human eye beholds us, when we are alone with God. After such communing with your own hearts, see if you will gather from it anything but tenderness towards others-hatred of their sin, no doubt, but love and pity for the sinner-you will then find your spirit more in accordance with that of your Divine Master.

6

There be many that say, Who will show us any good?' This is a question which might be put by any young person beginning life and asking of the new and untried future Who will show me any good?' and yet, hardly, for if we suppose that his heart be set upon the world, he certainly would not begin by asking this question, because in his heart he imagines it to be all good. Everything seems fair and bright; and no matter what path Providence may point out for him to tread, whether for the time apparently rough or smooth, the youthful heart goes forth to meet it boldly, trusting to find 'good' in everything. Rather, then, I think this would seem to be the experience of those who have tried all that the world is, and can give; have experienced its hollowness, and found it wanting.'

It seems to be, not so much the question of enquiry, as an exclamation of disappointed conviction. That which seemed so bright and beautiful in prospect, reveals itself now as utterly worthless and unsatisfying. He has sown the wind and reaped the whirlwind, and like the fabled fruit of the apple-tree of the desert, so fair to look upon, when he grasps it with delight it falls to ashes in his hand, and in the bitterness of his experience he says 'Who will show me any good?

It does not necessarily imply that in his business in the world he has been unsuccessful; it may frequently be the very reverse; and it is assuredly from him who has had a large measure, it may be, of this world's goods and of outward prosperity, that these words come with peculiar force, 'Who will show us any good?' One there was to whom nothing had been denied, a great, a wise man, who made him great works, builded him houses, planted him vineyards, got him servants and maidens, 'withheld not his heart from any joy,' and here is his testimony after all: Then I looked on all the works that my hands had wrought, and on the labour that I had laboured to do, and behold, all was vanity and vexation of spirit, and there was no profit under the

sun.'

How wonderfully precious are these words, as giving us the experience of one whose wisdom remained with him, and who yet, notwithstanding it all, gives it as his experience that all is vanity, and there is no profit under the sun. Many, doubtless, do not say this in words, but the experience is there nevertheless, and in their hearts they bear the same testimony to all things, however fair outwardly, being less than nothing and vanity.

Has any one, think you, ever tried these things and found them to be really good? That which charmed them in the distance, when they came up to it and handled it and looked at it, what was their verdict upon it? 'Something more! something more! Not always, it may be, to the same extent, but is it not the case with all of us in a greater or less degree? As one has defined 'a competency'-'What I have, and a little more.' Ah! yes, it is always a little more,' and a little more,' and we are never satisfied withal. Who will show us any good?' Who does not know that feeling of disappointment in the things of the world which we have longed for and sighed after, it may be, and yet, when we grasp them

at last, they are vanity? They cannot bear the test of a closer examination; the real, true principle of good is not in them; and we exclaim in the bitterness of sorrow 'Who will show us any good?' Ah! but there is another view yet of this question of 'good.' We look around us and see no good in all these earthly things. We cannot walk one step without disappointment. Whether we are high or low, rich or poor, there is no GOOD. How unspeakably blessed then to us is the experience of the Psalmist here given! There is no good in these things; they are vain and unprofitable; but, Lord, lift Thou up the light of Thy countenance upon us.'

How striking is the contrast here! It is not, it cannot be found, this 'good' in the outward things of earth. It is inward, in the heart, that the change comes, and the good is found in the light of the Holy Spirit's teachings where all was dark before. Oh! beloved, well may we pray to have the blindness removed from our eyes, that we may see the bright shining of the Sun of Righteousness. And then, while this great change is entirely within the sinner's heart, still God intends that it shall appear in everything in the world. His Spirit in the heart sheds light on all around; and when the sinner thus enlightened goes forth into the business of the world, he finds all changed; and those things which in a mere external sense are so void of good, when viewed in the light of the bright beams of the Sun of Righteousness are seen to be all good. The gifts of His love, to be devoted to His glory. The full enjoyment of everything is his. He inherits the earth. He takes his full cup from his Father's hand with loving gratitude; or if he is of the poorest, he takes his daily meal and thanks God with a happy heart for all that and Jesus Christ too.' And in all this he finds 'GOOD.' His heart is not set on these things, it is on things above; but still he feels they are all gifts from his Father's hand, the

dealing of God's providence towards him, as he cries, ‘Lord, lift Thou up the light of Thy countenance upon us.'

Then, further, I think that real vital godliness can only be attained largely by the constant and full realising of the presence of Jesus-even to the end. Oh! how sweet, in the midst of a world like this, to be able to pray that prayer; to ask Him to be with us all through our wilderness journey-till the end. It is sweet, we often think, to remember the day when on this very earth He took the little children in His arms, put His hands upon them, and blessed them; and yet this is only what He waits to do to us. We must put ourselves into His hands as little children, and then He will assuredly look upon us with His loving eye. He will 'lift up the light of His countenance upon us,' and give us peace.

In times of deep trouble have we not thought of that storm on the Lake of Galilee, when the faithless disciples cried out in their unbelief, 'Master, carest thou not that we perish?' Have we not felt as if He had forsaken us? Yet, He was even then praying for them, though they knew it not, and He came in His own good time and said, 'It is I, be not afraid.' So will it be with us. All may seem dark, everything cast loose, and we tossing helplessly on the billows of the stormy ocean; but He will as surely come and whisper in our ear, 'It is I, be not afraid.' Ah! and was there no light in His countenance, think you, when He drew near to the ship that day? yes; and we feel, 'Oh! to have been there, to have seen His face, to have heard His voice!' Well, but this is an experience in which we may all share. We have only to wait, and watch, and pray, and He will lift on us the light of His countenance so sweetly, that we shall not need to envy the disciples on the sea of Galilee.

Then, I think, the 7th verse shows us very plainly what

D

verse.

the 'good' means, which is referred to in the previous That it is not outward merely: the outward joy, which makes a noise in the world; the crackling of thorns, when the corn and wine and oil increase. Thou hast put gladness in my heart:' more than this, Thou hast done it; not I, but Thou.

Now in the former verse we have the light of God's countenance coming and shining into darkness; but even then there may not necessarily be gladness. Sometimes there is and sometimes there is not. The believer may have to hold his precious gift of light in sadness; but then, beloved, if it is so, if He has not yet put this gladness into our hearts, He will assuredly do so, and we shall enter into His joy. And the more we enjoy this precious gladness, the brighter will it become; unlike the fruits of earth which decrease with use. This is ever

full, ever increasing and never, never will be exhausted, until thefulness of joy' in His presence is realised by each of us.

Then, how beautifully are the two ideas gathered up as it were into one, in the closing verse of the Psalm: 'I will both lay me down in peace and sleep, for Thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in safety.' Truly godliness hath promise of the life that now is,' as well as of that which is to come; and he who is enabled by God's grace to say, 'Lord, lift Thou up the light of Thy countenance upon me,' and 'Thou hast put gladness in my heart,' is also able to say, 'I will both lay me down in peace and sleep: for Thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in safety.' And that, because He is mine, through Christ, now and for ever: by night and by day, at all times, in darkness and in light, so that I can have no fear, no anxiety, no alarm. He will over-rule all things for me and He never slumbers nor sleeps.' To the unbeliever the Psalmist says, Do not rest until you are at peace with God through the blood of His Son. For himself, he says