irresistibly contagious. We have probably all of us done something, at the sacrifice of time and money, to make this a merry Christmas for some of the children of our common Father. The air is resonant at this moment with the

echoes of the angel's song. It is a marvellous triumph for Christianity, that on one day of the year, at any rate, kindness and amiability reign supreme, and all antagonistic emotions have to hide themselves for very shame.

But it was Christ's aim that every day should be, in this respect, a Christmas-day. Is that the case with us? There was a curious institution in the middle ages, half beautiful, half grotesque. When private feuds had become very numerous and very fierce, an attempt was made to oppose them, by what was called the ecclesiastical truce or peace of God. It is not known exactly how this arose; but it was proclaimed in several cities, and was religiously observed. According to this truce, feuds were legally stopped for four days in the week. The bell tolled on Wednesday, to intimate that, on pain of judicial punishment, all hostilities were to cease till the following Monday. And until the Monday accordingly, they were suspended; but then they were always faithfully resumed. On the same

principle, we are too apt to return again, after a day like the present, to our old routine, which, with the most of us, is more or less a routine of selfishness. Shall it be so this year? Is it really so hard to be a Christian, that we can only accomplish it on one day out of 365? After manifesting peace and goodwill on the 25th of December, must we relapse again into practical paganism on the 26th? We cannot be always making presents, but we may be always doing good. We may show others by our manner that we are interested in their welfare. I have known men with whom it was a privilege to shake hands; to talk to them for five minutes was as refreshing as a week's holiday. We may not be able to do any great thing for Christ, but the simplest act of kindness is a service with which He will be well pleased. Shall we not, then, set ourselves diligently to cultivate the Christian temperament, and to manifest the Christian spirit? Peace and goodwill are their own exceeding great reward. There is a happiness within the reach of every man, far sweeter than any merely selfish gratification—the happiness of making others glad. There is a beauty that might belong to the plainest of us—the beauty of a

Wordsworth,
Wordsworth, you know,

benevolent expression.

speaks of

Benignant looks,

That, for a face not beautiful, do more
Than beauty for the fairest face can do."

There is a nobility, the glory of which cannot be outvied by the descendant of a hundred earlsthe nobility of thoughtful consideration for others. When peace and goodwill are universal, human society will be, as Christ wished to make it, a heaven upon earth. He never expected this result to be a speedy one. "I came not to send peace, but a sword." This, He foresaw, would be the first effect. But so gentle a nature could not calmly have uttered such a terrible prophecy, unless He had looked forward to something very different in the future. And He did. He foresaw that there would come a time when all men would be drawn to Him, and love one another for His sake, even as He had loved them. And so they will in the sweet by-and-by.

"It came upon the midnight clear,-
That glorious song of old,

From angels bending near the earth
To touch their harps of gold:
'Peace to the earth, goodwill to men,

From heaven's all-gracious King.'

The world in solemn stillness lay
To hear the angels sing.

Still through the cloven skies they come,
With peaceful wings unfurled;

And still their heavenly music floats
O'er all the weary world.

Above its sad and lowly plains

They bend on heavenly wing, And ever o'er its Babel sounds The blessed angels sing.

Yet with the woes of sin and strife
The world has suffered long;
Beneath the angel-strain have rolled
Two thousand years of wrong.
And men at war with men, hear not
The love-song which they bring.
Oh hush the noise, ye men of strife,
And hear the angels sing!

And ye beneath life's crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow,
Look now! for glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing.

Oh rest beside the weary road,
And hear the angels sing!

For lo! the days are hastening on
By prophet bards foretold,
When with the ever-circling years
Comes back the age of gold-

When peace shall over all the earth

Its blessed banner fling,

And the whole world SEND BACK the song Which now the angels sing."

247

The Rest of Faith.

"Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for Him."

EST!

REST

-PSALM Xxxvii. 7.

did? Wait patiently! Who ever Who ever can? Restlessness and impatience seem to be inseparably connected with humanity. They are manifested by all classes at every stage of their existence, from the child who grows weary of its newest toy, to the philosopher who is dissatisfied with the result of his patient, lifelong thought. Rest! Some men know not what it means; they have never in

their lives experienced it.

And for others, it

has no sooner come than gone, vanished like some transient dream of bliss.

You have often, I daresay, felt strangely saddened by the restfulness of nature. How beautiful she appears on a summer's evening, when the setting sun bestows on the landscape a part