He will seek to attend the sanctuary as often as circumstances permit-as often, if possible, as the Christian society thinks it desirable to assemble. This rule cannot be urged to the infringement of Christian liberty; its observance must be left to individual conscience. Yet there are tendencies to neglect it which are awakening in some quarters painful solicitude. If there be an assembly for worship during the week many devout men make no effort to attend it; they find time for the lecture, the social party, the civic banquet, the concert, the oratorio, but none for the prayer meeting. If all believers were equally indifferent, the result, both to the Church and the world, would be most melancholy. Although the services on the Sabbath are of reasonable brevity, are not some Christians beginning to relinquish attendance on them more than once? Are not slight causes permitted to excuse them from the evening worship? How is it that the east wind is colder on the Sabbath than on other days; that the indisposition which would be disregarded on the week day must be nursed on the Sabbath; that domestic inconveniences, which would not detain from another engagement, enforce absence from the house of prayer; and that the reasons which justify a neglect of the sanctuary do not prevent attendance at the evening party, the concert, or the lecture? It is astonishing how rapidly the sick upon the Sabbath recover by the morrow, as if there was something in the day favourable to the restoration of health. How is it that the family breakfast is usually later on the Lord's-day than on any other day; that out of a large church a few only rise early enough to associate in prayer before the public service? How is it that gatherings of friends are invited by Christians on the evening which the church has dedicated to its prayer meeting; and that if any entertainment should present its attractions, a public meeting, a lecture, a panorama, a soiree, anything that ministers to the increasing love of dissipation, the prayer meeting is relinquished for it? A thoughtful Christian will not thus trifle with the assembly of saints, lest he destroy his influence, injure his piety, and expose himself to the full power of the world and the devil. An earnest Christian will principally attend public worship with his own community, amongst whom his influence is powerful, and his example of use. To denounce occasional union with another congregation would be to fetter Christian freedom, and to forget the unity of all believers in Christ; but every thoughtful man must admit that frequent absence from the religious home, even to join in the devotions of more favoured churches, is a violation of Christian propriety. Experience has demonstrated that vagrancy of worship is deleterious to piety, and destructive of usefulness. The congregation interprets a Christian's absence as a neglect of public worship; the unregenerate plead it as a justification of their total indifference to it. By irregularity of attendance a Christian sets a bad example to his family and dependents, an example which he cannot justify to them, and which he scarcely desires them to follow. If all believers were to imitate his course, much of the influence of public worship would be neutralized, and Christian order entirely destroyed. The moral power of a Christian is concentrated on the people with whom he worships; among others it is of little weight; yet that small amount which he exerts is diminished by his neglect of " the fellowship of the saints." Nor is the evil limited to his own circle. By his frequent attendance elsewhere he is placing an injurious example before the members of other communities; he is diffusing wherever he goes an improper spirit ; and it is well if God does not reward him with "leanness in his soul." This frequent absence from the religious home commonly arises from a false and delusive spirit, the man-worshipping tendency of the age. Christians are attracted by the celebrity of a preacher; they go to be "charmed with the voice of the charmer," not to worship God; and, going in an improper spirit, God will not meet them there. If spiritual prosperity be usually indicated by a love of earnest communion with God, devout obedience to His will, spiritual mindedness, holy conduct amid the duties and anxieties of life, little of it, alas! is witnessed among those who "heap to themselves teachers, having itching ears." A devout man, before approaching the sanctuary, will rightly estimate the exercise in which he is about to engage. He goes not to the house of prayer from custom, or for the sake of consistency, from love of excitement, or to gratify his curiosity or taste, still less to while away an idle hour. About to enter the pavilion of the Almighty, to unite with his brethren in reverent worship at the footstool of Him "who knoweth the thoughts," he will not proceed to such an employment with the indifference with which he pursues his ordinary avocations, or the careless ease with which he calls on a friend, or as one dragged by circumstances to a reluctant service, a slave who must discharge his allotted task; he visits the sanctuary with the solemn thoughtfulness of a man with whom the welfare of the soul is of primary import, and who is concerned to "walk in the fear of the Lord, and in the comfort of the Holy Ghost." Anticipating religious exercises in such a spirit, the believer's attendance on public worship will not be late. Punctual in his engagements with his fellow-man, he will not be less careful on entering the house of God. He will not needlessly inflict pain on others, by apparent indifference to their solemn occupation. Respect for his brethren, as well as reverence towards God, will ensure his presence in their assembly before the solemnities have commenced. As Christians do not usually arrive late at parties of pleasure, at engagements of business, at the concert, the public meeting, or the lecture, so they will not be late in entering the house of prayer. A thoughtful believer will set a goodly example to others by the early occupancy of his seat; and in those spare moments which precede the worship, he will silently implore the divine assistance that he may unite, with becoming earnestness and undisturbed serenity, in the devotion of the hour. His attendance on the sanctuary will be in the spirit of worship. In the house of prayer, there is naught to him but God. With his brethren he lifts up heart and voice to the divine throne. In the worship he seeks to unite for himself. He has nothing to do with those around him, except to invoke God's blessing on them. It matters not how they are apparelled; he is not there to criticise their dress. It matters not who sits next to him in the pew; there "the rich and the poor meet together; the Lord is the maker of them all." From that place the gains and losses of the preceding week, as well as the bargainings and liabilities of the morrow, are carefully excluded. He is not there to listen to the words of man; he "openeth his heart" to "attend to the things which are spoken" of God. He is encircled with the mystery of a higher presence. The creature is forgotten in the Creator. "Put off the shoes from off thy feet, for the place whereon thou standest is holy ground." "I will wash my hands in innocency, and so will I compass thine altar, O Lord." (To be continued.) THE WALKING ON THE SEA.* OF all the miracles which Jesus wrought in Galilee none seems to have made so deep an impression on the popular mind as the "Feeding of the Five Thousand."+ So profound and vital was the impression, that the people, lifted out of their customary hesitations and doubts and misgivings, recognized in Jesus of Nazareth the Christ of God, and were minded to "take Him by force and make Him their King. They were unwilling to depart from Him, though the night was fast approaching; they pressed upon Him with clamorous entreaties, striving to bend His steadfast will. Amid all this clamour and excitement, while He dismissed the people, and before He had prevailed on them to leave Him, "He constrained His disciples to get into a ship and go before Him" to the other side of the Galilean lake. The word "constrained" is emphatic; it implies that the twelve, like the five thousand, were unwilling to leave Him; that He had to compel them by earnest persuasive speech to precede Him and leave Him alone with the multitude. At last they yield to His entreaties. The little ship puts off from the mountain on which the miracle had been wrought, the disciples take to their oars, and Jesus turns once more to the task of dismissing the excited multitude. Why were the twelve so hard to persuade? What was the secret of their reluctance to obey His command? We cannot conclude, with the more amiable commentators, that they could not bear to be separated from their Lord even for a season; for at other times He has not to constrain them to depart on His errands. Nor can we infer that their only motive was a fear of the approaching storm. They were many of them fishermen, it is true, and probably foresaw, therefore, that to sail against a contrary wind-and on Gennesaret when the winds are contrary they are very contrary-would entail upon them a laborious night, and might involve some little danger; but to fishermen the dangers of the sea are not so terrible as they are to us. And surely we may. hope that at their Master's bidding they would have run some slight risk, even if they could not rise to the assurance that He who once before had stilled a tempest on this very lake, and who had now promised to follow them, would save them from harm. Another motive is suggested by the sacred record. The people were bent on making Jesus their King. The disciples sympathized with the people. "Their heart was hardened;" they did not apprehend the true drift and meaning of Christ's miracles. They thought the people were right; and they did not care to be absent when Christ should be exalted by the popular voice to the Messianic throne. The men who, more than once, contended among themselves which of them should be greatest in the kingdom, were reluctant to leave Christ at the very moment when He was likely *Matt. xiv, 22-27; Mark vi. 45-52; John vi. 15-21, to be made King and to distribute the offices of His kingdom. This seems to have been their ruling motive, the secret of their reluctance to obey. And if this were a low and unworthy motive, let us remember not only how often our motives would not bear too close a scrutiny, but also that it is only through the records which Matthew and Peter and John have left that we know the twelve to have been as weak and imperfect as we are. One can hardly doubt the honesty of men who, instead of passing themselves off as blameless, tell us of their faultstell us that their hearts were hard, that they could not understand this miracle or that, that it was only by the mingled force of persuasion and authority that Christ Himself could constrain them to do His bidding. ; By this constraint, however, they are at length induced to enter the boat and to start for the other side. "The wind is contrary" to them; the sea runs rough; their sails are useless to them they betake themselves to the oars. At first, probably, and while the evening twilight lingers, they do not put forth their strength. Jesus had "sent them before Him"-intended to follow, and might yet hail them from the shore. They expect Him, at least till darkness settles down on the heaving sea; for John writes, "They entered into a ship, and went over the sea; and it was now dark, but Jesus was not yet come to them." They had expected Him, then, and had probably kept within hail. But when the night darkens over them, and the Master still tarries, they bend themselves to the oars; they "toil in rowing" against the contrary wind and the rising waves, but they make little headway. Many hours of fatiguing labour pass-hours lengthened out by fatigue and suspense. It is "the fourth watch of the night"— three o'clock in the morning. The dawn is at hand. They have been toiling all night, yet they are not more than halfway across the lake-not more than three or four miles from the shore which they had left the previous evening. And how has it fared with the Master while the disciples have been wearying themselves in vain and spending their strength for nought? When the disciples left the beach He had resumed His task of dismissing the clamorous and excited multitude. They were not to be constrained from their purpose by Hi s persuasive words; they insisted on making Him their King. When He saw they would use force He disappeared from their midst, "went. up into the mountain to pray, and when even was come He was there alone." Through the hours of that night, so long to the disciples, the Master stands on the brow of the mountain which overlooks the lake -the "great contrary wind" rushing by and tugging at His peasant robe. Alone, and yet not alone because the Father is with Him, He enters into that sacred communion which left Him strong and patient for the duties of the day. Does He think and pray only for Himself? No; He thinks also of them that are His. Even in that sacred solitary communion, and after the exhausting labours of the day, He is about the Father's business. When the darkness had warned the disciples to their labours, and "the ship was in the midst of the sea," He was alone on the mountain; yet with the piercing wistful eyes of love "He saw them toiling in rowing." The darkness does not hide them from Him, nor the distance. He thinks of them and prays for them as well as for Himself. Yet He leaves them to labour the long night through; it is not till towards morning that He gives them any token of His watchful care. A strange night that, and a strange scene! The disciples toiling in the midst of the boisterous sea, harassed with fatigue and suspense and fear; and the Master, in the calmness of sovereign power, standing on the top of the mountain, and looking down with eyes full of sympathy on His distressed friends, yet forbearing to help-He to whom it was so natural to help, to whom help would have been so easy! But was it not well that He should delay? It was well. It was good for the disciples to learn that without Him they could do nothing, and that He was caring for them and able to help them, even though He was not present with them. In the previous storm which they had encountered on this lake He was with them in the ship; they must have felt that at the worst they could arouse Him and obtain from Him whatever help He could give. But they need to be taught that even where they have not His bodily presence His eye is on them; His arm is their defence. Therefore He thrusts them forth into the danger alone, just as the tender mother-bird thrusts her young from the nest that they may learn to fly. They could not have foreseen, they could not have conceived, His walking on the sea. They must have seemed decisively cut off from Him and from His help. Yet His help reaches them. By all the suspense of that doleful laborious night, by all the joy of sudden deliverance, the lesson is impressed upon them that in all storms of danger and trial He is near them, although unseen of mortal eyes, and waiting to bring them safely through. And now, see! As the morning is about to break, that solitary majestic Figure, which but now was standing on the summit of the mountain looking down with divine pitying eyes on the turmoil beneath, suddenly vanishes from the lofty, steadfast rock, moves swiftly over the shifting turbulent sea, glides up to the vessel in which the disciples still toil at the oars-nay, flits by it from stem to prow, as though, unconcerned, it were hastening past. Pitying their distress, Jesus came to help them; yet He seems, pitilessly and without helping, to pass on. He intends to come to them in the ship; yet He makes as though "He would have passed them by." Why was this? Why, indeed, if not to excite the appealing cry of faith. The Wise God cares for our outward circumstances only as, and because, they affect our characters. It is comparatively of slight consequence whether we are in danger or delivered from danger; the great thing is that whether by danger or by deliverance, by hardships or by comforts, we should be trained into perfect men. And the God manifest in the flesh never lost sight of this supreme object. Whatever He did for them or forbore to do was designed to quicken in His disciples a vital faith -that faith which is the root from which all Christian virtues spring and blossom out. It is true that the immediate result of this apparent indifference on Christ's part to the distress of His disciples was to elicit the cry of Fear instead of the prayer of faith. When they saw Him "walking upon the sea" they were troubled." They seem at first to have recognized Him, at least to have hoped that it was He, and yet to have been perplexed by the doubt whether even He could pass along the paths of the sea. But when He made as though He would have gone past them when they saw the familiar form flit by as though it had no concern with them, they cried out, "It is a phantom!" They concluded that it was either a spectral illusion bred of theirown intense longings, or an apparition sent from the world of shadows to warn them that they too were shadows and were about to pass away from the warm realıties of life. This was the immediate result; but was it the final result of Christ's appearing? Fear soon gave place to welcoming joy. On their perturbed spirits there fell the calming gracious words, "Be of good cheer; it is Ï; Be not afraid;” and then all doubts solved, all apprehensions removed, they gladly receive Christ into the ship. And when afterwards they reflected on the strange experiences of that memorable night, would they not blush for the weakness which had mistaken the very Friend and Helper they longed to see for a pale threatening ghost? Would they not learn that, instead of crying out with fear as they saw Jesus pass them by, they should have prayed Him not to pass them by, and have trusted a love that could never forsake them? Not, I apprehend, till they did learn this lesson would the wise purpose hidden under the apparent indifference of Christ have taken effect upon them. And now, what lesson are we to learn from this narrative? It is full of lessons, as are the other miracles. For every miracle is also a parable contains spiritual similitudes and analogies which are designed for our teaching. Every story recorded in the Gospel is a glass which reflects some phase or phases of |