definite thought, adequate expression, and regulated emotion, God educates us into the fulness of our being. Ever looking at that which is beyond us, striving to reach that which is beyond us, our nature is drawn out, our capacities perfected. 'Prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of Hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing that there shall not be room enough to receive it?' Now, what is the use of a blessing there is not room enough to receive? It makes more room: more room in the understanding, more room in the heart. The overflow is at once an invitation to bring a larger cup, and a development of the cup-a widening and deepening of the spirit. The goodness of God not only leads to repentance, but to perfection. O, for the larger blessing, the full vivid consciousness of God's great love and abounding grace!

Annually when the ice breaks up in Russia the Czar goes in state to drink of the River Neva, and having drunk, it was long the custom for the Czar to return the cup to his attendants full of gold, but year by year the cup became so much larger that at length a stipulated sum was paid instead of the old largesse. But however large the vessel we bring to God, and however much it increases in capacity with the discipline of years, God shall still make it to overflow with that peace and love and joy which is better than rubies and much fine gold. Let us pray

Open the fountain from above,

And let it our full souls o'erflow.'

The overflowing cup demands the full surrender of life to God. The full cup in our hand demands a complete sacrifice on God's altar. How can we withhold anything from Him Who gives us all, and gives so freely? Oliver W. Holmes writes: If a created being has no rights which his Creator is bound to respect, there is an end to all moral relation between them. Pascal, whose reverence amounted to theophobia, could treat of the duties of the Supreme to the dependent being.' (Mechanism in Thoughts and Morals.) Doubtless this is a truth we may urge against the Calvinist, but we have no need to urge it as against God. The Supreme has done his duty to the dependent being; in His vast munificence gone beyond all conceptions of duty. The grand question for us just now is not man's rights and God's duty, but rather God's rights and man's duty. He has filled the cup, He has made it overflow right royally, and it remains now that we do our duty after the same pattern. Let us give Him an unstinted love, an obedience that runs over all the small limits of calculation and utility. 'I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable, unto God, which is your reasonable service.'

XII.

PASSIVE HOURS.

'Therefore have I cried concerning this, Their strength is to sit still.'-Isa. xxx. 7.

1. L

ET us study the attitude enjoined by the text.
What is it to 'sit still?'

It indicates a condition of silence. Times occur for silence before men—when it is best to refrain from all vindications touching our character and doings, best to refrain from all expostulations with them touching their character and doings. There are seasons for silence before God-times when our lips are neither opened in complaint nor importunity. Rest in the

Lord (be silent to the Lord), and wait patiently for Him.' The Psalmist reckons the tongue our 'glory,' and yet we are never more glorified than in those rare moments when, in a strength not our own, we are dumb before God and man. A condition of resting is suggested. We must resign our opinions, anxieties, merit, strength and resources, looking simply into Heaven. It is willingness to let God do work for us we cannot do for ourselves; to let Him fight battles for us we cannot fight for ourselves; to let Him find a

path for us we cannot find for ourselves. It is selfeffacement, that the stage may be left quite open for God to assert on our behalf.

It is also the attitude of waiting. According to the poet :

'God's purposes shall ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour,'

but God's purposes sometimes unfold slowly, and to sit still' is calmly and patiently to await this unfolding. I bide my time,' is the motto of one of our noble families, and he who can bide his time, or, to speak more accurately, he who can bide God's time, is perfect in the sublime art of sitting still. The text also sets forth a condition of expectation. Christ sat down at the right hand of God, from henceforth 'expecting' the realisation of His glorious purpose-and thus are we to sit, trustfully, hopefully. Sir Thomas Lawrence painted the portrait of the Duke of Wellington, and when the portrait was half finished, the Duke was represented as holding a watch in his hand, waiting for the Prussians at Waterloo. When the great soldier understood what the watch was intended to indicate, he observed: "That will never do. I was not waiting for the Prussians at Waterloo. Put a telescope in my hand, if you please, but no watch.' The position of the righteous man in the battle of life is never one of anxiety and apprehension. He who knows how to sit still' has no painful solicitude about men or hours or circumstances, but conscious

of the all-surrounding Presence feels in the agony of battle the glow of triumph.

The temper here enjoined is broadly distinguished from stoicism, fatalism, or despair. It is very different to stoicism, involving no sacrifice of sensibility; it is distinct from fatalism, because it recognizes the good and righteous God freely acting in all the government of the world; and it cannot be confounded with despair, for its inspiration is faith and hope. In a word, it is putting all things into God's hands, and with a brave bright heart biding His time.

II. Let us observe the several occasions when the admonition before us is specially applicable.

In the development of our religious life we may sometimes remember the text with advantage. Spiritual life commences in the passive mood.

Then said

they unto Him, What shall we do, that we might work the works of God? Jesus answered and said unto them, This is the work of God, that ye believe on Him whom He hath sent.' The glorious work of God within us begins not with our strength and mastery, but with our submissiveness and receptivity. As the Apostle teaches, from the foundation of the world men have sought rest by works-intellectual, moral, ecclesiastical, material—and never discovered it; only 'we which believe have entered into rest.' Therefore to the penitent we say, Seek not peace in the world, in gold, purple, or pleasure; seek it not in the schools, in philosophies and sciences; seek it not in the Church,