at thought, that one of the best
sacrifices that men can make to God is to render up the tribute of
their praise. In the great psalm which lays down with clearness never
surpassed in the New Testament the principles of true Christian worship,
this is declared: 'Whoso offereth praise glorifieth Me.' The true
offering is not the slaying of animals or the presentation of any
material things, but the utterance of hearts welling up thankfulness. In
the ancient ritual there stood within the Holy place, and after the
altar of burnt-offering had been passed, three symbols of the relation
of the redeemed soul to God. There was the great candlestick, which
proclaimed 'Ye are the light of the world.' There was the table on which
the so-called shewbread was laid, and in the midst there was the altar
of incense, on which, day by day, morning and evening, there was kindled
the fragrant offering which curled up in wreaths of blue smoke aspiring
towards the heavens. It lay smouldering all through the day, and was
quickened into flame morning and evening. That is a symbol representing
what the Christian life ought to be--a continual thank-offering of the
incense of prayer and praise.

Nor that only, brethren, but also there is another shape in which our
words should be sacrifices, and that is in the way of direct utterances
to men, as well as of thanksgiving to God. What a shame it is, and what
a confession of imperfect, partial redemption and regeneration on the
part of professing Christians it is, that there are thousands of us who
never, all our lives, have felt the impulse or necessity of giving
utterance to our Christian convictions! You can talk about anything
else; you are tongue-tied about your religion. Why is that? You can make
speeches upon political platforms, or you can discourse on many subjects
that interest you. You never speak a word to anybody about the Master
that you say you serve. Why is that? 'What is bred in the bone comes
out in the flesh.' What is deep in the heart sometimes lies there
unuttered, but more often demands expression. I venture to think that if
your Christianity was deeper, it would not be so dumb. You strengthen
your convictions by speech. A man's belief in anything grows
incalculably by the very fact of proclaiming it. And there is no surer
way to lose moral and spiritual convictions than to huddle them up in
the secret chambers of our hearts. It is like a man carrying a bit of
ice in his palm. He