the spirit has to be summoned to worship; when we have to watch if we would pray, and to school ourselves into thankfulness. Not now is emotion unbidden, not now are our spirits sensitive; effort rather than enjoyment marks our spiritual activity; faith has to endure coldness instead of expanding under genial influences, to resist adverse powers, not simply to rejoice in conscious fulness.

It is part of God's own ordinance that spiritual life should be subject to such changes; we cannot always trace them to our own heedlessness. Often, indeed, we may find the reason of such an alteration in our sins; carelessness will change sensibility into torpor, activity into feebleness. Love of the world chills, as it steals over us; doubt will transfigure bloom to barrenness; sin always checks divine affection, and gives us bitterness for peace. But, very often, the change comes on us unawares; gradually we become conscious of an altered spiritual state; we are still earnest, still obedient; we preserve our fidelity to Christ, and yet our emotions lose their freedom, and spiritual life is more and more an effort. It is God's will that it should be so. Here, as in all His works-we find, not the uniform progress of the same conditions, but a succession of varying discipline. Now we are called on for effort, now permitted to enjoy ; at one time feeling predominates, at another thoughtfulness, forecast; sometimes spontaneous emotion gives birth to sacred meditation, again we have to meditate that we may feel. The wise Christian knows that his spiritual life is thus varied for him: remembering how through protracted seasons of experience so different, he has grown in grace, he will see in these changes diverse manifestations of the One Spirit who is ever with him. Moreover, it is not in individual experience alone that this law of spiritual seasons is found operative; even more remarkable are the changing conditions of Christian societies. There is often a wonderful harmony of spiritual state between a pastor and his people, and between all the members of a church. Without any conference, they utter the same language, breathe the same feeling. Their sensibilities are awakened simultaneously; throughout a whole church there will be a deepened emotion, and an increasing faith. Sermons will, week after week, be marked by unusual pathos, and the congregation will be attuned to responsive sensibility; the prayers of the people will have greater fervour, their worship more ardent aspiration. The disciples are all of one accord, and there comes-naturally, harmonizing with their common feeling-the "sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind;" " cloven tongues, like as of fire," sit on every head; all filled together with the Holy Ghost begin to speak together the same things. And this, not so much be

cause one impresses another with his own convictions, as because the same conviction has been secretly infusing itself into all. They speak" as the Spirit gives them utterance," and are prepared for each other's words, so that "all hear in their own tongue" the same message, and each expresses the common utterance of the Church. Further, districts of churches will be simultaneously thus aroused. A revival of religion, so called, is rarely confined to one congregation. The desires of many Christian societies are spontaneously aroused in harmony: as though they had met and planned a common operation, sought to cultivate a common state of emotion, they feel and speak and work similarly. It is not a mere sympathy of hysteric passion that passes over whole lands, the hysteric passion itself is but the caricature of a real accord of which God himself is the author. Summer comes not to one field alone, nor to one belt of country, but to the whole of God's heritage.

So, too, does winter creep on; not over a solitary soul, but often over a congregation, a number of congregations, the Church at large. Gradually the state of feeling is altered for them all. The pathetic and fervid utterance gives way to a calmer voice; the congregations are prepared to receive words that shall instruct, rather than words that shall melt. The effort to edify and consolidate the Church will be as general as was the appeal to the emotions; the language of thoughtful wisdom will be heard in the pulpits which of late resounded with passionate exhortation and warm desire. This is not due to a general laxity, a general feebleness of spiritual life; it is the orderly change from spiritual summer to spiritual winter. Unseen, yet very really, God's Spirit is at work, altering influences, changing modes; while He introduces a new state of spiritual experiences, seeking to accomplish varied objects, and summoning to new modes of improving His presence.

One of the purposes of spiritual winters is the confirmation and strengthening of faith. It might seem as though quickened religious sensibilities and rapid success in labour were most favourable to faith. The ardour of Christian emotion makes it easy to believe in Christian truth: strong feeling prompts to a confession distinct as that of Peter, "Lord, thou knowest that I love thee." When we see whole assemblies moved by the simple, impulsive preaching of the gospel, doubt seems scarcely possible. The burning zeal which breathes through impassioned exhortation, and prompts to prayer, that has the assurance of its answer in the firmness with which it grasps the blessing, diffuses itself in many a heart hitherto cold, and changes distrustfulness into confidence that God is working. Faith is, indeed, thus

stimulated; but faith must not only be stimulated, it needs also to be confirmed. The boy, who in summer sows his mustardseed, has not long to wait, nor is his faith much tried; in a few hours he sees the yellow seed transformed into green blades. "The husbandman waiteth for the precious fruit of the earth, and hath long patience for it until it receives the early and latter rains." During many weeks of winter he has to wait, wrestling down his anxieties as he beholds his fields flooded or frost-bound, and marks how the sun delays his coming. He has to sustain himself by faith that "summer and harvest shall not cease." Christian faith must be not only the trusting impulse of the child; it must have the calm confidence of the man. Patience is a part of manly trust; faith confides in the unseen operations of God, as well as traces His hand in His visible workings. A faith supported only on emotion, resting in frames and seasons, is never a strong faith; impulse grows through patience into energy; emotion is subdued, that faith may be confirmed; progress is concealed that we may more entirely confide in the unseen God. Faith is thus made to "stand," not in feeling, nor in result alone, but "in the power of God."

Spiritual winter acts as a check upon excesses. The life which the sun fosters is not all healthful; corruption, too, is active under summer heats. Blighting insects, fiery scorpions, the deadly serpent, fever and malaria are bred of warmth. Often the rapid increase of loathsome creatures is in proportion to their loathsomeness; the world would become unbearable, but that winter comes to check their increase and destroy their power. Have we not seen what fatal excesses are sometimes the sequel of revivals? Licentiousness comes of corrupting spiritual energies; sensibility has a terrible tendency to pass into sensuality. The unchecked indulgence of even the purest impulses is not favourable to true Christian manhood; long-continued fervour of emotion enervates the soul. God, therefore, breathes forth a cooler air, subdues feeling and chastens passion, gives us to resist as well as to enjoy. The tide of genial influence ebbs, and a healthful chill is spread around us.

There are other excesses, not in themselves fatal, but dangerous, and likely, if indulged in, to interfere with general Christian progress. Sometimes, when summer lingers long, vegetable growth proceeds too far. Sprays are formed which the vital power of the tree cannot support; they would, if permitted to remain, wear out the tree, and, instead of yielding much fruit in after years, it would be disfigured by a lean and straggling excess of feeble twigs. Frost is nature's pruning-hook; the storm brings down a shower of decaying sprays. It is thus that, under strong excitement, we often plan works beyond our power to execute; and there is

danger, if we carry them on, that all our energies will be expended in feeble efforts, nothing being done because too much is undertaken. Special services often interfere with the regular ministrations of the gospel; common duty is neglected while men are seeking to work new wonders. God's restraining influence is therefore felt; the decay of first enthusiasm recalls to ordinary work. Churches and Christians would often be spared severe chastisements for neglected duty, if they were prompt to recognize God's meaning in a change of spiritual feeling. The overgrowth which resists the frost the gardener's knife must cut away.

There is much in the training of the Christian character and of the Christian church for which a subdued and quiet state of emotion is more favourable than a state of excitement. For instance, the formation of clear opinions as to Christian doctrine, and the revelation of God's character and will in the Bible, is important. The gospel appeals to our intelligence, as well as to our feelings. We have to serve God "with the spirit, and with the understanding also." We should be able to "give a reason for the hope that is in us." We are to be "well instructed.” We are spoken to as "wise men," who can "judge what is said." We are to "prove all things, and hold fast that which is good." Quickened sensibilities and fervid emotions are not necessarily inconsistent with the calmest judgment, the clearest intelligence. There is a transparency in the summer as in the winter atmosphere; warm light unveils the distant hills, and spreads a wide landscape before us, just as much as cold light. In the clear winter sky the stars shine with piercing lustre; on summer nights they stoop to us with larger, mellower blaze. Still, there often is a throb and tremulousness in the heated air that interferes with vision, and the purple vapours, though beautiful, are deceptive. As a fact, it is true that strong religious excitement tends to become unfavourable to clear and complete conceptions of truth. When almost every passage of holy writ stirs the deepest feeling, and every thought is rapt, we can scarcely take a connected view of the whole revelation of God; we cease to study while we adore. A congregation under strong excitement often finds doctrinal statement or Scriptural exposition dry, and calls it unspiritual. In order that this needful work may not be neglected, God fits men for it. He gives them winter for the study of truth.

Self-culture and church discipline find their appropriate season in the calmer time. With the stress of summer upon him, the farmer is compelled for a little to neglect himself and the general business of his farm. Fruits must be garnered as they ripen; regard to health, the study of the markets, the suc

cession of crops, the balancing of accounts, are little thought of, when every day is almost too short for its necessary labour. We cannot examine ourselves when we are full of emotion. Selfculture gives way to spiritual enjoyment. A church thrilling with high-wrought sensibilities can scarcely give minute attention to its discipline. That carefulness may not be forgotten-that each one, being proved, may have his appropriate labour and his portion in due season, God subdues emotion, sends spiritual winter. For certain aspects of the gospel, too, a calm condition is fitter than excitement. Duty, responsibility, self-restraint these are true Christian words. Sobriety, circumspection, endurance, forbearance-these also are Christian graces. God gives the opportunity for their exercise, provides the influences favourable for their cultivation.

Spiritual life appears invested with dignity, as it is seen progressing under various seasons and manifold change. The gourd which springs up in a night is not the highest type of vegetable growth; it also perishes in a night; while trees that endure winter as well as expand in summer, measure their age by centuries. There are insects whose life is all summer, for they only live a summer day. Those nations are the noblest which are under temperate zones, where all the seasons are most nearly balanced. Because spiritual life is so broad, its changes are so many. All moral forces unite for its perfection, all kinds of influence are needed for its maturity.

That Christian, that Church will be most healthful, most useful, that is most ready to respond to all God's varying plan. Summer must not be spent in enjoyment, nor winter wasted in repining. The grasshopper who sang all the summer, when winter came found herself starving.. "Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise; which having no guide, overseer, or ruler, provideth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food in the harvest." The stimulated energies of a revival time must be preserved and carried on into colder periods. The clear vision and calm judgment which the winter of the soul is fitted to impart must be treasured up for the right improvement of the season when emotion shall be again excited, and fervour shall be renewed. Each period has its discipline, its special labours, and all unite to make strong Christians, useful men of God.

God's spiritual work is ordered according to the same laws as His natural work; the order of the world is typical of His government of souls. All natural laws are the "patterns of things in the heavenlies." God promised that "seed time and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night