w ready we are to say that his strong words about the dangers of
wealth were only counsels given to individuals! The deepest article of
our creed, that a man must make his way, fight for his own hand, elbow
himself to the front if he can--how little akin that is to the
essential spirit of Christ, by which a man ought to lavish himself for
others, and quit the world poorer than he entered it!

I turn again into the great, shadowy, faintly lit church, with all its
interlaced arches, its colour, its richness of form; I see the figures
of venerable, white-robed clergy in their tabernacled stalls, a--little
handful of leisurely worshippers. The organ rises pouring sweet music
from its forest of pipes. Hark to what they are singing to the rich
blending of artful melodies:--

"He hath put down the mighty from their seat, and hath exalted the
humble and meek. He hath filled the hungry with good things; but the
rich He hath sent empty away."

What a message to thrill through this palace of art, with the pleasant
town without, and all the great trains thundering past! To whom is it
all addressed? The spirit of that meek religion seems to sit shivering
in its gorgeous raiment, heard and heeded of none. Yet here as
everywhere there are quiet hearts that know the secret; there are
patient women, kind fathers, loving children, who would think it
strange and false if they were told that over their heads hangs the
bright aureole of the saints. What can we do, we who struggle faintly
on our pilgrimage, haunted and misled by hovering delusions, phantoms
of wealth and prosperity and luxury, that hide the narrow path from our
bewildered eyes? We can but resolve to be simple and faithful and pure
and loving, and to trust ourselves as implicitly as we can to the
Father who made us, redeemed us, and loves us better than we love
ourselves.

LV

I have had a fortnight of perfect weather here--the meteorologists call
it by the horrible and ugly name of "anticyclone," which suggests, even
more than the word "cyclone" suggests, the strange weather said by the
Psalmist to be in store for the unrighteous--"Upon the ungodly he shall
rain snares, fire and brimstone, storm and tempest." I have often
wondered what the fields would look like after a rain of snares! The
word "cyclone" by itself suggests a ghastly whorl of high vapours, and
the addition of "anti" seems to make it even more hostile. But an
anticyclone in the springtime is the