ency, but hope. The man who is not
glad to be a Christian is not the right kind of a Christian.

The first thing that commended the Church of Jesus to the weary and
disheartened world in the early years of her triumph, was her power to
make her children happy,--happy in the midst of afflictions, happy in
the release from the burden of guilt, happy in the sense of Divine
Fatherhood and human brotherhood, happy in Christ's victory over sin and
death, happy in the assurance of an endless life. At midnight in the
prison, Paul and Silas sang praises, and the prisoners heard them. The
lateral force of joy,--that was the power of the Church.

"'Poor world,' she cried, 'so deep accurst,
Thou runn'st from pole to pole
To seek a draught to slake thy thirst,--
Go seek it in thy soul.'

* * * * *

Tears washed the trouble from her face!
She changed into a child!
'Mid weeds and wrecks she stood,--a place
Of ruin,--but she smiled!"

Much has the Church lost of that pristine and powerful joy. The furnace
of civilization has withered and hardened her. She has become anxious
and troubled about many things. She has sought earthly honours, earthly
powers. Richer she is than ever before, and probably better organized,
and perhaps more intelligent, more learned,--but not more happy. The one
note that is most often missing in Christian life, in Christian service,
is the note of spontaneous joy.

Christians are not as much calmer, steadier, stronger, and more cheerful
than other people as they ought to be. Some Christians are among the
most depressing and worryful people in the world,--the most difficult to
live with. And some, indeed, have adopted a theory of spiritual ethics
which puts a special value upon unhappiness. The dark, morbid spirit
which mistrusts every joyful feeling, and depreciates every cheerful
virtue, and looks askance upon every happy life as if there must be
something wrong about it, is a departure from the beauty of Christ's
teaching to follow the dark-browed philosophy of the Orient.

The religion of Jesus tells us that cheerful piety is the best piety.
There is something finer than to do right against inclination; and that
is to have an inclination to do right. There is something nobler than
reluctant obedience; and that is joyful obedience. The rank of virtue is
not measured by its disagreeableness, but by its sweetness to the heart
that loves it. The