next Sunday morning, in token of this our common brotherhood and membership in the great family of God.

And now I wish to call your attention for a very few moments to this immortal hope which we hold in common. "As we have borne the image of the earthy, so we shall bear the image of the heavenly."

Life is one constant change-birth, growth, decadence and death. I seem to stand where a great battle has gone on, and the roll-call of those who have been engaged in it is heard. Here is the line, worn, weak, still saying "here" when their names are called. And some, we know, are wounded or are sick; some are missing, and we know not where they are; and some have gone into God's silence. But behind them, pressing up to fill the gaps in the files, are those young and strong and hopeful. And behind them yet a little further, are those now youths, ready to put their feet in the footprints, ready to take their places in the ranks. And yet behind them, the little ones are coming, who, as years go on, shall grow strong and able, and shall fill up the gaps in the wavering files, and strengthen and steady the march. This change in society is one thing that marks how a generation comes and a generation goes; how many pass in a year out of our number; what changes take place.

This same change is upon the face of nature. The configuration of the mountains is altered. "Of old," said the Psalmist, "Thou hast laid the foundations of the earth, and the heavens are the work of Thy hands. They shall perish, but Thou shalt endure; they shall wax old like a garment; as a vesture shalt Thou change them, and they shall be changed." But amidst all these changes there are some things that do not change; upon which the tooth of time has no corroding power; which the memory of man can not forget nor the hope of man

lose. These are the intense convictions of men as to moral distinctions in life; these are the bright hopes of men as to the continuance and development of life; and these are the quenchless affections of the heart, in its love for those that are here and those who have gone before. These are not the things that change, as they are not the things that die. The hopes of the mind, the convictions of the conscience, and the loving affection of the heart-these are eternal.

By a very beautiful insight, you will see in this "Nature's Prophecy" which we have here, there are many hints and suggestions as to the endurance of spiritual life. Reasoning from analogy is very fascinating, but it is not certain or sure. But it certainly is no accident, my friends, and no mere coincidence, that scattered about us are so many hints and signs that the real life is not touched by the corrosion of time; but that the real life endures. Is it for nothing, think you, that we trace through its slowest development these successions of life, these various states and changes of form?

The Greek saw it, and gave the same name to the butterfly and to the soul-the Psyche, the emerging butterfly from the chrysalis, the emerging spirit from the body. Consider for a moment: Here is an egg laid by a butterfly; certain changes are going on in it, and by and by a crawling worm or grub, a caterpillar, will emerge. It has no memory of its past life, and it knows nothing of that which is to come. By and by it moves restlessly about, seeking for some leaves, which are its appropriate food, spins its cocoon, and then is as if it were dead. And when the autumn winds have blown the leaves from the tree it sways from a pendant tomb, seeming to be but withered leaves itself. Then we know in its appointed time this will burst apart, and the feeble, fluttering thing will spread its wings, a marvel of beauty.

Now these states of life, or stages of development, which this insect has had in its metamorphoses, are as singular and wonderful to the scientific student as they are delightful to us. Between them great gulfs are fixed-between the common or caterpillar life, and the butterfly life. One does not seem to give promise of the other. One has no memory of the other. Each passes through certain phases of change, like that which we call death, into a more glorious state. The same thing is true in the water-lily. Here is its golden crown within its satin folds of virgin beauty. A long stem reaches down through the glimmering water, until you reach the root, buried in the slime of the river. The root life is one thing, the stem life another, the flower life yet a third. We know them as parts of a continuous life, and each as a state. There is no conscious memory between them, and no promise; and yet we do know that as each one bears the image and fulfills the promise of the life in which it lives, it shall lift itself higher and higher, until at last the perfect flower comes.

It is as if God whispered, "As you have borne the image of the earthy, you shall bear the image of the heavenly." We come into this earth-life knowing nothing. Upon the lips of a little child that comes are no stories or tales of that which it may have known. God's finger presses the lips, and he whispers, "Silence, one world at a time." Then follow the years that we pass here. We are well fitted to the conditions in which we live. Our bodies are made up of earth's elements; they are formed to bear earth's burdens; they are fitted to do earth's work. Our hearts become the home of the affections which make glad the earth.

There is a close relation between human sympathy and human sorrow; between the experience of one and the ignorance of another; the physician's skill and the world's agony; the lawyer's power of disentangling

injustice and the world's need of justice; the preacher's hope and faith and the world's doubt and despair. We are adapted to this world in which we live. We bear its image; are made of its elements; feel its weaknesses; know its limitations; crumble at last to its dust. Our will grows strong in trying to do its work and solve its problems. Our heart grows tender as we bear the burdens of the world. As we bear faithfully this image of the earthy in face, figure, heart and mind; as we have been true to the duties which the earth life imposes upon us; we have reason to believe we shall be true to the things that lie next beyond us.

It is a significant fact, my friends, that we are equipped for more in life than life calls for. We have more powers than life uses; we have stronger forces than life can use. Not enough of time and not enough of space is allotted to us to use the multiform forces and the great powers of life. It is as if God had pledged us to something that was beyond, and given us these things that we have, saying, "This earth is not enough, and offers no scope for power and faculty and affections; you are equipped for something more." But here is the life that now is, to which we have our relations and our duties; and, as the little children told us no secrets of that which is known beyond, the dead come back to tell no tales of that which they see and know. The finger of God, which rested upon the lips of the child, rests now upon the lips of the dead; and the voice which said, "Silence; one world at a time is enough," to a babe, says the same thing to the happy dead. One world at a time. Here we have our duties; we must not neglect them. Here are our burdens; we must not shake them off. Here are our cares; we must assume them. Here are our sorrows; we must bear them. Here are our sympathies; we must employ them. Here

are our tears; we must shed them. One world at a time is enough.

And yet, emerging all the while are these intense affections, these unquenchable hopes, these deathless loves, that whisper to us, "You are more than life calls for here; life is but a stage in development; life is but a state or condition through which you pass; and as you have borne the image of the earthy faithfully, you shall bear the image of the heavenly gladly."

The image of the heavenly! We know not what it is, and we may not ask. It is enough for us to know that eye hath not seen nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive, the things that God hath prepared for those that love him. It is enough. for us to know that the sufferings and endeavors of this present life are not worthy to be compared to the glory that shall be revealed to us.

It shall come the "Kingdom of God" which Jesus loved and longed for and planted; the "Republic" Plato foresaw; the strange, beautiful "City of the Sun" of which Campanelli dreamed; the "Utopia" of which Moore wrote; Philip Sidney's "Arcadia; " and Augustine's "City of God." These are but the finely pure conditions of life, in which faith and hope and love may employ their utmost powers; and as we have borne the image of the earthy faithfully and truly, we shall bear the image of the heavenly gloriously and joyously.