nna,
which thou knewest not, neither did thy fathers know; that he might
make thee know that man doth not live by bread only, but by every word
that proceedeth out of the mouth of the Lord doth man live. . . . Thou
shall also consider in thine heart that, as a man chasteneth his son,
so the Lord thy God chasteneth thee."--DEUT. viii. 1, 2, 3, 5.

As God led the Jews through the wilderness, so He leads us through the
journey of life. As God called on the Jews to rejoice in Him, and to
bless Him for going with them, and teaching and training them by dangers
and sorrows; so He calls on us to lift up our hearts and bless Him for
teaching and training us in the battle of life.

But some of you may say, "Why do you ask us to thank God for lessons
which we have bought by labour and sorrow? Are not our sorrows more than
our joys? Our labour far heavier than our rest can be sweet? You tell
us to be joyful and thank God for His mercies; but why all this toil? Why
must we work on, and on, and on, all our days, in weariness and anxiety?
Why must we only toil, toil, till we die, and lie down, fairly conquered
and worn out, on that stern mother earth, from whom we have been wringing
our paltry livelihood from our boyhood to our grave? What is our life
but labour and sorrow?"

Are not some of you thinking in this way to-day? Have I not guessed the
hearts of some of you at least? And is not this a strange way of making
you joyful to remind you of these thoughts?

My friends, be sure I only remind you of these sad thoughts, because they
are _true_ thoughts, because God meant you to bear them and _face_ them
like men; because you must have these thoughts, and let them make you
sad, and make up your minds to face them again and again, before even you
can thank God really like redeemed, immortal Christian men and women. And
believe me, I would not mention these sad thoughts, if I had not a remedy
for them. If I had not a message to you from the living God, and Christ
the King of the earth, whereby I tell you now to rejoice and give thanks
to Him in spite of all your labour and sorrow. Ay more, I say, Rejoice
and give thanks _on account_ of all your labour and sorrow, and count it
all _joy_ when ye fall into divers tribulations.

It is true, my friends, we are a hard working and a somewhat sad race of
men, we English. The life of the working man is labour and sorrow, and
so is the life of the scholar, and so i