feels everything. Their whole nature is alive. Theedge of their hearts is sensitively keen. They havebeen so chastened, and polished, and attuned, by thediscipline of the Spirit, that they have become fine anddelicate instruments, scarce rude and coarse enough forthe rough ways of a hard world. Or they are like thatharp which needs no finger of man to play it, but givesout its sighs and its complainings in answer to thewhispering wind. They have been moulded in thegentle hands of the Holy Spirit, till they have been madesoft, and tender, and delicate themselves. So that trialis our lot, our lot as men, but especially as Christianmen, educated for Heaven by the Holy Ghost. Andthe better we become the more must we be tried ; orat any rate — what comes to the same thing — ^the moremust we expect to feel our trials.But what a prospect is this. A life of storms !Storm after storm. Surely one storm were enough.But a life of storms; storm gathering upon storm,and each one, it may be, rising in intensity; onedark cloud dispelled, only to be followed by othersstill darker ; a lull now and then between the blasts,and then a new blast loudei* and more furiousthan all which had gone before, 'Hhe sea and thewaves roaring, men's hearts failing them for fear,and for looking on those things which are coming."To stand like some light-house, on a lonely rock, farout at sea, and be the playmate of the waves ; so thata man may say with the Psalmist, ''All Thy waves andThy billows are gone over me." To sail in no PacificOcean, no sea of calms, but in a sea of storms. To bebuffeted for ever by winds. To be beaten like a ballincessantly, from wave to wave. What a prospect!Digitized by CjOOQIC200 HOPE OUB ACHOE. [SEBM.