on and on forever; and the marble stands therepassive, cold-making no effort to arrest the gliding water?

It is so that time flows through the hands of men,-swift, never pausing till it has run itself out; and there is the man petrified into a marble sleep, not feel. ing what it is which is passing away forever. It is so, brethren, just so, that the destiny of nine men out of ten accomplishes itself, slipping away from them, aimless, useless, till it is too late. And this passage asks us, with all the solemn thoughts which crowd around an approaching eternity, what has been our life, and what do we intend it shall be? Yesterday, last week, last year, they are gone. Yesterday, for example, was such a day as never was before, and never can be again. Out of darkness and eternity it was born, a new, fresh day; into darkness and eternity it sank again forever. It had a voice calling to us, of its own. Its own work, its own duties. What were we doing yesterday? Idling, whiling away the time in light and luxurious literature, not as life's relaxation, but as life's business? thrilling our hearts with the excitement of life? contriving how to spend the day most pleasantly? Was that our day? Sleep, brethren! all that is but the sleep of the three apostles. And now let us remember this: there is a day coming when that sleep will be broken rudely, with a shock; there Is a day in our future lives when our time will be counted, not by years, nor by months, nor yet by hours, but by minutes, the day when unmistakable symptoms shall announce that the Messengers of Death have come to take us.

That startling moment will come which it is vain to

attempt to realize now, when it will be

all over, at last, that our chance an past. The moment that we have tri shrunk from, put away from us, here it like all other moments that have gone then, with eyes unsealed at last, you lo life which is gone by. There is no m there it is, a sleep, a most palpabl indulged unconsciousness of high dest and Christ; a sleep when Christ was you to watch with Him one hour; a sl was something to be done; a sleep bro once or twice by restless dreams, and truth which would make itself heard at a sleep which was only rocked into dee interruption. And now, from the un the boom of whose waves is distinctl your soul, there comes the same voice emn, sad voice - but no longer the "Watch;"-other words altogether, sleep." It is too late to wake; there i earth or heaven to recall time that once

Again, this principle of the irrepara good with respect to preparing for tem hour in the garden was a precious opp for laying in spiritual strength. Christ He struggled and fought then; therefor struggling afterwards,-no trembling in hall, no shrinking on the cross, but and calm victory; for He had fought t on His knees beforehand, and conque garden. The battle of the Judgment-1 of the Cross, were already fought and

Watch, and in the Agony. The apostles missed the meaning of that hour; and therefore, when it came to the question of trial, the loudest boaster of them ali shrunk from acknowledging Whose he was, and the rest played the part of the craven and the renegade. And, if the reason of this be asked, it is simply this: They went to trial unprepared; they had not prayed; and what is a Christian without prayer, but Samson without his talisman of hair.

Brethren, in this world, when there is any forescen or suspected danger before us, it is our duty to forecast our trial. It is our wisdom to put on our armor - to consider what lies before us to call up resolu tion in God's strength to go through what we may have to do. And it is marvellous how difficulties smooth away before a Christian when he does this. Trials that cost him a struggle to meet even in imag ination like the heavy sweat of Gethsemane, when Christ was looking forward and feeling exceeding sor rowful even unto death-come to their crisis; and, behold, to his astonishment they are nothing,- they have been fought and conquered already. But, if you go to meet those temptations, not as Christ did, but as the apostles did, prayerless, trusting to the chance impulse of the moment, you may make up your mind to fail. That opportunity lost is irreparable; it is your doom to yield then. Those words are true, you may "sleep on now, and take your rest," for you have betrayed yourself into the hands of danger.

And now one word about prayer. It is a preparation for danger, it is the armor for battle. Go not, my Christian brother, into the dangerous world without it. You kneel down at night to pray, and drowsiness

weighs down your eyelids. A hard d kind of excuse, and you shorten yo resign yourself softly to repose. The and it may be you rise late, and so yo tions are not done, or done with irregu watching unto prayer,- wakefulness on ted. And now we ask, is that reparab we solemnly believe not. There has b which cannot be undone. You have prayer, and you will suffer for it. Temp you, and you are not fit to meet it. T feeling on the soul, and you linger at a Christ. It is no marvel if that day in v fered drowsiness to interfere with pray which you betray Him by cowardice an ing from duty. Let it be a principle moments of prayer intruded upon by s made up. We may get experience, but back the rich freshness and strength wrapped up in these moments.

Once again this principle is true in an Opportunities of doing good do not con are here, brethren, for a most definite a purpose, to educate our own hearts love, and to be the instruments of bl brother-men. There are two ways in w be done, by guarding them from da soothing them in their rough path by thies, the two things which the apostle to do for Christ. And it is an encoura that he who cannot do the one has at le in his power. If he cannot protect, h thize.

Let the weakest, let the hum

congregation, remember that in his daily course he can, if he will, shed around him almost a heaven. Kindly words, sympathizing attentions, watchfulness against wounding men's sensitiveness, these cost very little, but they are priceless in their value. Are they not, brethren, almost the staple of our daily happiness? From hour to hour, from moment to moment, we are supported, blest, by small kindnesses. And then consider: Here is a section of life one-third, one. half, it may be three-fourths, gone by, and the question before us is how much has been done in that way? Who has charged himself with the guardianship of his brother's safety? Who has laid on himself as a sacred duty to sit beside his brother suffering? 0, my brethren, it is the omission of these things which is irreparable! Irreparable, when you look to the purest enjoyment which might have been your own; irreparable, when you consider the compunction which belongs to deeds of love not done; irreparable, when you look to this groaning world, and feel that its agony of bloody sweat has been distilling all night, and you were dreaming away in luxury! Shame, shame upon our selfishness! There is an infinite voice in the sin and sufferings of earth's millions, which makes every idle moment-every moment, that is, which is not relax. ation-guilt; and seems to cry out, If you will not bestir yourself for love's sake now, it will soon be too late.

Lastly, this principle applies to a misspent youth, There is something very remarkable in the picture which is placed before us. There is a picture of One struggling, toiling, standing between others and dan ger, and those others quietly content to reap the ben