in its energy and self-confidence, as to the aged, infirm, and despondent. Let us prepare, not by anxious forebodings and vain imaginings, but by a constant sense of our dependence on the Maker of our frame, and an habitual obedience to his physical and moral laws. If we "seek first his kingdom" in the freshness of youth and health, and listen to his voice amid all the deafening uproar of busy life, we need not doubt that "all things else" really needful and desirable "will be added to us," and for the rest we shall hold them too lightly to resign them with a struggle.

But if in our days of health we have eaten and drunk, and planted and builded, unmindful of the coming of the Bridegroom, our task will be tenfold harder, but it must be accomplished. If sickness do not find us children of God, let it make us such. It will be of no avail to resist the mighty hand that is laid upon us, and a rebellious spirit will only aggravate the evil. Conscience will tell us, that the very morbidness with which we shrink from the chastisement proves the necessity of its infliction. The same spirit which shows itself unreconciled to sickness in the aggregate, would prompt us to murmur at the minor evils almost necessarily included in it, those little vexations and disappointments against which the most watchful affection cannot always guard, the failure of some anticipated gratification, the neglect of an attendant, or some defect in the arrangement or location of our room. Even when we seem to ourselves and others to be cherishing a very resigned frame of mind, these little troubles may have great power to disturb our equanimity. It is the part of true wisdom, in sickness as in health, to look at the bright side of our lot, to pass by its privations and disadvantages, and dwell upon and even magnify its alleviations and compensations. The fluctuations of our physical system may seem to us a more legitimate cause for complaint, and from the nature of the disease, or the temperament of the invalid, it may often be a very hard struggle to maintain cheerfulness, or even seren

ity; and we know that God looks with compassion on all involuntary failures and occasional lapses. Habitual despondency, however, should not be indulged; it is painful to others, injurious to our own health, and ungrateful to God. It is both our only remedy, and our imperative duty, to yield our will to his, trusting our future entirely in his hands, and receiving sickness, with all its train, as his messengers, whom we may, if we will, transform into angel visitants, and to whose message in the silence of our own hearts we will reverently listen.

Another danger incident to the sick-room is irritability or petulance in our intercourse with those around us. This tendency is so generally, almost universally, manifested in the lighter, as well as the graver attacks of disease, that, were it not for the remembrance of some blessed sick-rooms and hallowed death-beds, where a dove-like gentleness seemed ever to dwell in the heart, and breathe from the lips, we should be tempted to believe it irresistible. In regard to this infirmity, as the other, from the nature of the disease, or the temperament of the patient, it may be very difficult to guard the tone and manner from impatience, when the words themselves are not blamable. The kind-hearted, who would not intentionally cause a moment's pain, even to a stranger, may continually grieve by their hasty words the very beings dearest to them, and on whose tender assiduity they are constantly dependent. But the Christian should consider no deviation from the law of love as innocent, or excuse it to his own conscience by the plea of constitution or circumstances. When excessive languor renders it a burden for us to speak at all, or nervous excitability will scarcely allow us to speak gently, let us remain in silence, if possible, until the perturbed spirit is calmed, or at least until we can look up for aid to Him who can alone say to the troubled elements within us, "Peace, be still." Let us consider that we are about to wound those hearts which are so tenderly anxious to spare us every pang, and to prepare for

ourselves bitter regrets when the occasion is past. Above all, let us remember Jesus, ere we give to love and kindness the return which hatred, persecution, and agony could not extort from him. In his own words to his sinking disciples, of whom "the spirit was willing, but the flesh weak," let us "watch and pray lest we enter into temptation."

Another danger, nearly allied to the last, and perhaps including both the others, is selfishness in its manifold aspects. It presents itself under disguises so plausible and subtle, that we are easily led astray. It tells us that our first duty is to ourselves, the care of our own health and comfort. It is true that the care of our health is a duty incumbent upon all; a religious duty, not a selfish one, if that be not a palpable contradiction, for we may be influenced both by an immediate regard to those in attendance upon us, lest our imprudence should cause them trouble, and by a distant hope of prolonged opportunities of usefulness. But we must discriminate, for forgetfulness of self is a still higher duty than regard to self, and the latter is too easy and pleasant to be very often neglected. If we step aside from the narrow path to either extreme, let us be sure that it is not that of selfishness; for better would it be to endanger our physical health, than to suffer our hearts to be indurated in an habitual indifference to the claims of others. The invalid frequently esteems it his peculiar privilege to entertain his visitors with minute and wearisome details of his own symptoms, unmindful that those who listen are occupied with cares, joys, and sorrows of their own, from which he withholds his sympathy. He might find, on inquiry, that their trials and maladies, though differing in kind, are as severe as his own, and if they are happy, favored with health and the power of locomotion, which are denied to him, let him perform the more difficult duty of "rejoicing with those who rejoice."

But this egotism, wearisome and annoying though it be to those exposed to it, is venial compared with that worse than thoughtless insensibility so often manifested in more

important matters. When an invalid considers that the health and comfort of those in attendance upon him, and whose services he vainly thinks to compensate with money, are wholly at his disposal, and that he is at liberty to sacrifice them to his whims, and delay or abridge their needful rest and nourishment without any sufficient cause, he cherishes a spirit similar in kind, if not in degree, to the tyrannical slaveholder whom he condemns. When his slightest wish must be complied with at the precise moment he chooses, though it demand many laborious steps from an already weary frame, for such selfishness sickness can be no apology, in the eye of God or man. We should regard the wellbeing of those in our employ, whether in health or sickness, as a trust committed to us for which we are responsible. It should cause us pain, the severity of our disease obliges us to make unusual demands upon them, and we should embrace the first opportunity to relieve them, and as far as lies in our power to atone for the exaction by some additional indulgence. Their health, happiness, and improvement are as valuable as our own; the former perhaps more so, if they depend upon it for their daily support, and we should regard it as our sacred duty to promote them by every means in our power. Let us not only allow but urge them to take regular exercise in the open air, so especially necessary for those confined in a sick-room; let us place before them instructive books, and afford them leisure to read them; let us interest ourselves in their joys and sorrows, and aid them by that counsel which even the sick can bestow, and we may render this relation what it has so often been, a source of mutual pleasure and benefit, not a toilsome round of thankless duties. Let us even forego some gratification or attention with which we can dispense, that they may have a little time for rest and recreation. Let us guard against the slightest inroad of selfishness, nor flatter ourselves that our natural disposition exempts us from danger in this respect.

Self in some form is always striving to be predomi

nant, and it is only by hard struggles that it can be kept in its proper place; and if we relax our vigilance, it will insensibly gain the dominion over us, and in the season of recovered health, when all is hopeful without, we may wake to the sad consciousness of the hardening process which has been going on within.

Let us seek, then, as far as possible, that the atmosphere of our sick-rooms shall be one of serenity, gentleness, and love. Clouds may occasionally overcast it; but if the true light is shining behind them, it will soon beam forth, and disperse them all, until a settled brightness shall rest upon the scene. Let not our hearts faint, though our efforts may often seem unsuccessful, for God will ultimately bless and reward every sincere endeavor. On our sick-beds, with wasted frames and enfeebled limbs, we may achieve victories more glorious than the most renowned battle-fields can boast; for "greater is he that ruleth his own spirit, than he that taketh a city." We are not alone in the warfare, for "those that be for us are more "* and mightier than those that be against us, and the eye which faith has opened, and sickness purified, to discern spiritual realities, shall see the "chariots and horses of fire" encompassing our path, and aiding us in our conflicts.

THOUGHTS FOR THE TIMES.

THE law of attraction in the material world, uniting in one sympathetic whole all material bodies, near or remote, is an emblem of the finer influences which unite all intelligent beings in one vast community of interests and affections. Not the inhabitants of this world alone, but probably of all worlds, are thus bound together, the loftiest and the

* 2 Kings vi. 16, 17.