which the day prefigures? Then there is the Holy Supper, when the sun appears to shine down from a peerless sky; and, in a less degree, the sunshine of favourite books, and of meetings with congenial friends. And what a variety of bright and cheery thoughts may each day's common sights call up! The lilies of the field, the ravens, the sparrows, the sky, the rivers, the fragrant spices of the garden,signs and symbols of higher things,--how rich are they all to him in delightful thoughts!

"There are as many lovely things,

As many pleasant tones,

For those who sit by cottage hearths,

As those who sit on thrones."

But there is one spot which is peculiarly and preeminently brightened, when it is brightened by this sunshine-his home. Is anything earthly more beautiful than a humble home, lighted up by Christian sunshine? A home of content and order, of cheerful voices and loving hearts, of humble thoughts but sublime hopes. It may have its deep sorrows, but it will have too, to him who is quick to reckon them, joys numberless as the sun-gleams that dance on the sea. Each word and look of love from each member of the house; each victory gained by young warriors over passion and temptation; each bud of grace that appears, rich with the promise of a holy

and loving life; each sign of truth and tenderness, of trust in Christ, and the purpose to serve Him, in any son or daughter, reflecting as they all do the sunshine of heaven, will be a source of gladness in that home. Will their humble meals not taste sweeter for the blessing so reverently asked before them? Will their sleep not be more refreshing that they have all kneeled at night at the throne of grace, and commended themselves to Him that neither slumbers nor sleeps? Will the trials and worries of the day not fall easier on them when they have cased themselves from head to foot in the armour of God, and laid in a stock of patience and self-control to meet them? Will the six days of labour be none the lightsomer for the sunshine of the day of rest? Will no "music of wonderful melodies" be heard in their soul after their Sabbath converse with "the glorious company of the apostles, the goodly fellowship of the prophets, the noble army of martyrs ?"

"Such songs have power to quiet

The restless pulse of care,

And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer."

Do not say, "These are mere dreams of fancy. There is too much knocking about in the workman's house for scenes like these. Things must go on there in a rougher fashion, and we may be glad if

we get through anyhow, in a decent way, without all that romantic nonsense." My good friend, the very tone of your answer shows that you have become soured and hopeless through want of that very sunshine of which we now speak. If you had welcomed Christ as your best friend at an early period of your life, you would have very different feelings now. You would feel that there is no end to the brightness and serenity with which He is able to fill the humblest home, and cheer the roughest lot of humanity.

One other benefit we must notice which Christianity brings pre-eminently to the working classes, -I mean the spirit of hope. Notwithstanding all its present benefits, the Gospel reserves its chief glories for hereafter. What Jesus did at the marriage-feast at Cana of Galilee he does still; he keeps the good wine to the last. There is no class or condition of real Christians whose hearts this great truth is not fitted to cheer, but it has a special adaptation to those whose lot in life is but poorly furnished. As, often as the heart is disposed to be downcast from present hardship or want, hope may be summoned with its reviving cordials. It is often dejecting even to think of the hardness of a poor man's lot. So much toil, day after day, month after month, year after year. Toil through the cold and

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gloomy winter. Toil through all the mocking brightness of summer. Toil while the blossoms are bursting in spring, and toil while the clusters hang rich and mellow in autumn. Toil when the bones are aching, toil when the little ones are ailing, toil when the shadow of death is falling, toil when the whole head is sick, and the whole heart faint. As Ebenezer Elliott puts it

It would be a hard lot, it is a hard lot, with the pleasures of hope unknown. So weary a journey and no home at the end, so hard a struggle, and no earthly chance of relief; what could be worse? But Christianity dispels this gloom. It draws the curtain a little to the side, and bids the toil-worn believer look through. The glare of glory is too bright for distinguishing all, but enough is seen to satisfy every craving of the weary heart. It is so satisfying, that the question that starts up is, Can it be real? In the view of such glories, the toil even of threescore years is felt as nothing; and the cry of the spirit is for patience to wait without a murmur, till at length the gates shall be thrown open, and the trumpetvoice be heard," Come up hither!"

We have but touched, in these remarks, on a wide and varied subject--the blessedness of Christianity

to the children of toil. But we believe enough has been said to justify us in repeating our wonder, our profound regret at the fact, that to so large an extent the working classes show distrust and dislike to earnest spiritual religion, as if it were rather a rigid exactor or tax-gatherer whom it is a happiness to get rid of, than the best of friends whom it is their greatest privilege to welcome. They stand most grievously in their own light. The spirit of true Christianity, kindly and genial as it truly is, and should ever appear to be, would render their earthly lot tenfold more blessed, not to speak of the treasures it would secure for eternity, treasures which eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the mind of man.

It may be that not a few who read these lines need no more than to have their minds stirred up by way of remembrance. But, working men and women, are there not thousands and tens of thousands of your order who think not of these things? Must we not try to reach them, and get their hearts, by God's help, filled with these earnest convictions? When one thinks of the only sunshine that transfigures life, and turns it from a funeral procession to a triumphal march, and when one remembers what masses of the people hate that very sunshine, and deliberately prefer the cold shade of infidelity, or at