you craved rest when you had work given you to do; if you sometimes longed for sickness, to give you, as you fancied, leisure to serve God; if you often lamented that you had no time; groaned under the burden of your work, and did not do it with a free and glad heart; then do not wonder if you have the answer to your cravings-prayers perhaps they scarcely wereyou wished for rest, and you have it. Seek to improve this season; do not spend your time in mere desultory desires for blessings, but earnestly ask God to "show you wherefore He contendeth with you."a Listen for His answer. "Watch to see what He will say unto you, and what you shall answer when you are reproved."b There is much for you to do even here; lie still, and He will be your Teacher; but do not let the voice of discontent or sadness drown His voice. Ask Him to "open your ear to receive instruction."c Answer all questionings, and silence all sad thoughts with, "It is the will of God."

a Job x. 2.

b Hab. ii. 1.

• Prov. xxiii. 12.

XVII.

ANNIVERSARIES.

THERE are but few people who have long known sickness or sorrow, who have not a feeling of dread of all anniversaries. The whole aspect of life is changed-the clouds seem to have gathered blackness-the bright spots in life are become fewer. Those days and seasons which once looked bright and joyous, and were welcomed when they returned, seem now to be "full of trouble ;"a they bring to remembrance all things that were bright and joyous, but which are so no longer. There was an unbroken family then; there were voices to be heard, which are heard now only in saddened memory; there was precious sympathy to be had then, joyful greetings, and sharings of our joy. Life looked bright, and the glad spirit counted from joy to joy, and expected only brighter joys and blessings yet to come. There was perhaps no thought of change then.

But years went on, and friend after friend passed into the world unseen; and made this life sadder and more lonesome. Then sickness came, and life's aspect was wholly changed. And now the days and seasons return, and often seem but to mock your sorrow. Your birth

a Job xiv. 1.

day is near at hand! It used to be such a gladsome day, and now you dread its coming. And why? It tells that another year has passed, another long year of sickness, and yet you are here in your sick room, just the same, no hope of being better, no brighter prospect before you. The morning comes; O! how it saddens you to hear the usual greetings, "Many happy returns!" rather would you wish that there should be no more returns; at any rate, you cannot believe that they can be happy. You think, "Why grieve me thus? O! do not remind me of my birth-day; let the day pass unnoticed." You are mistaken; you would not like it to pass unnoticed; you would count it very unfeeling if no one noticed it, if no one cared about it. Do not turn away unlovingly, or as if you were annoyed, it is meant in true kindness; receive the greeting heartily, let it seem to give you pleasure; and then think whether there be no reason why it should be a glad day to you. Your birth-day, what is that? The day that you were born into this world of sorrow. Yes! but is that all? Was it not the day in which life began in you, life which shall be eternal? Could you have the blessedness of everlasting life, if that life had not begun here? Do we not greatly err, in separating this life from that which is to come (as we express it?) Is it not all one? Life begun here, and carried

on eternally. Should you not then give hearty thanks for your creation, for your birth-day? Then think again what you would be without this sickness. Could you hereafter understand the character of our Lord, "The man of sorrows?"a Should you not be unlike all His people whom you hope to live with for ever? Should you not rejoice then in this, your only time of suffering; and hail every return of the day of your birth, as a day of blessing? Let your birth-day then be a glad day, a day of thanksgiving for your "creation and preservation, and all the blessings of this life." What though you meet it apart from the family circle, yet rejoice in all their loving attempts to unite you with it, and receive their greetings gladly, until they become a part of yourself, and make you glad also.

The anniversary of the birth-day, or of the departure of one of your dearest earthly treasures, comes. It seems to you a day of mere sadness; how shall you meet it? If they were here, you would not be solitary, your sickness would be cheered, and you would have constant sympathy; they understood you, they knew the sorrows and the loneliness of sickness; they always had words of tenderness and encouragement for you-but they are gone. Gone whither? Into the world unseen. Then "they

Isa. liii. 3.

are not far from you, you know not how nigh." Do not count them gone. It is only intercourse that has ceased, you may hold communion with them still; and therefore you need not be sepa rated from them. Your very sickness may bring you nearer to them, because as being much cut off from the society of your fellowcreatures, you may dwell more in their holy company, and with less interruption. You may make such anniversaries holy days; days which shall draw you nearer to God, and to the unseen world, and then by degrees they will lose their sadness, and have a peaceful character instead.

Seasons, too, are great trials to the sick and the lonely. The New Year comes, and brings its own note of woe. What has been said of birth-days applies so nearly to this day, that we may speak of Christmas instead. And can Christmas be a gladsome day to a sick person? Can it be kind to wish them Christmas joys and Christmas blessings? Christmas, that glad time of family meetings which you cannot share; Christmas, the season of festivity; how can it be a happy season to you? Surely above all seasons it speaks of departed joys, and tells that the days are come in which you say that you "have no pleasure in them." There are two ways of enjoying Christmas, in which all sick persons should join. One is to enjoy it for and

a Eccl. xii. 1.