TWENTY-FOURTH DAY.

The Hour of Darkness.

GOD hath overthrown me, and hath compassed me with his net. Behold, I cry out of wrong, but I am not heard: I cry aloud, but there is no judgment. He hath fenced up my way that I cannot pass, and he hath set darkness in my paths. He hath stripped me of my glory, and taken the crown from my head. He hath destroyed me on every side, and I am gone: and mine hope hath he removed like a tree. He hath also kindled his wrath against me, and he counteth me unto him as one of his enemies. His troops come together, and raise up their way against me, and encamp round about my tabernacle. He hath put my brethren far from me, and mine acquaintance are verily estranged from me. My kinsfolk have failed, and my familiar friends have forgotten me. All my inward friends abhorred me: and they whom I loved are turned against me. My bone cleaveth to my skin and to my flesh, and I escaped with the skin of my teeth. Have pity upon me, have pity upon me, O ye my friends; for the hand of God hath touched me. Why do ye persecute me as God, and are not satisfied with my flesh?

Oh that my words were now written! oh that they were printed in a book! that they were graven with an iron pen and lead in the rock for ever! For I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth: and though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God: whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not another.

Job xix. 6-14, 19-27. God speaketh once, yea twice, yet man perceiveth it not. In a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon men, in slumberings upon the bed; then he openeth the ears of men, and sealeth their instruction, that he may withdraw man from his purpose, and hide pride from man. He keepeth back his soul from the pit, and his life from perishing by the sword. He is chastened also with pain upon his bed, and the multitude of his bones with strong pain: so that his life abhorreth bread, and his soul dainty meat. His flesh is consumed away that it cannot be seen; and his bones that were not seen stick out. Yea, his soul draweth near unto the grave, and his life to the destroyers. If there be a messenger with him, an interpreter, one among a thousand, to shew unto man his uprightness: then he is gracious unto him, and saith, Deliver him from going down to the pit: I have found a ransom. His flesh shall be fresher than a child's: he shall return to the days of his youth: he shall pray unto God, and he will be favourable unto him: and he shall see his face with joy: for he will render unto

man his righteousness. He looketh upon men, and if any say, I have sinned, and perverted that which was right, and it profited me not; he will deliver his soul from going into the pit, and his life shall see the light. Lo, all these things worketh God oftentimes with man, to bring back his soul from the pit, to be enlightened with the light of the living. Job xxxiii. 14-30.

Who is among you that feareth the Lord, that obeyeth the voice of his servant, that walketh in darkness and hath no light? let him trust in the name of the Lord, and stay upon his God.

Isa. 1. 10.

We wait for light, but behold obscurity; for brightness, but we walk in darkness. We grope for the wall like the blind, and we grope as if we had no eyes: we stumble at noon-day as in the night; we are in desolate places as dead men.

Isa. lix. 9, 10.

F. W. ROBertson.

DAVID says, 'Mine enemies reproach me;

while they say daily unto me, Where is thy God?' Now observe, this feeling of being forsaken is no proof that we are forsaken. Mourning after an absent God is an evidence of love as strong as rejoicing in a present one. Nay, further, a man may be more decisively the servant of God, while doubting His existence, and in the anguish of his soul crying for light, than while resting in a

common creed, and coldly serving Him. There has been one at least whose apparent forsakenness, and whose seeming doubt bears the stamp of the majesty of faith, 'My God, my God! why hast Thou forsaken Me?' Distinguish between the feelings of faith that God is present, and the hope of faith that He will be so.

There are times when a dense cloud veils the sunlight you cannot see the sun, nor feel him— sensitive temperaments feel depression; and that unaccountably and irresistibly. No effort can make you feel. Then you hope. Behind the cloud there is the sun; from thence he will come : the day drags through, the darkest and longest night ends at last. Thus we bear the darkness, and many a sleepless night. It does not shine now, but it will.

So, too, spiritually. There are hours in which physical derangement darkens the windows of the soul; days in which shattered nerves make life simply endurance; months and years in which intellectual difficulties pressing for solution shut out God. There are moments of a hopelessness, when our highest feelings have been misunderstood and our purest met with ridicule; times when our heavy secret was lying unshared like ice upon the heart. And then the spirit gives way : we wish that all were over; that we could lie down tired, and rest like children from life; that the hour was come when he could put the extinguisher on the lamp, and feel the last grand

rush of darkness on the spirit. Then faith must be replaced by hope. What I do, thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter.' 'Clouds

and darkness are round about Him, but righteousness and truth are the habitation of His throne.' 'My soul, hope thou in God, for I shall yet praise Him who is the health of my countenance and my God.' This hope was in God. The mistake we make is to look for a source of comfort in ourselves self-contemplation; instead of gazing upon God. In other words we look for comfort precisely where comfort can never be. For, first, it is impossible to derive consolation from our own feelings, because of their mutability; to-day we are well, and our spiritual experience, partaking of these circumstances, is bright but to-morrow some outward circumstances changé-the sun does not shine-and we are gloomy, low, and sad. Then if our hopes were unreasonably elevated they will now be unreasonably depressed, and so our experience ebbs and flows, like the sea, that emblem of instability. Next, it is impossible to get comfort from our own acts; for though acts are the test of character, yet in a low state no man can judge justly of his own acts. It would be well for all men to remember that sinners cannot judge of sin-least of all can we estimate our own sin.

Besides, we lose time in remorse. I have sinned: well, by the grace of God I must endeavour to do better for the future. But if I mourn