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more remarkable than Haman. He seems to have risen suddenly from obscurity to the highest office of trust under the crown, the king having made him chief over all the deputies of the realm.

In the character of Haman there is a singular exhibition of ambition and envy. He cannot be satisfied with the king's favor and the applause of thousands, so long as one poor captive, Mordecai, rises not up to do him honor. Though the worship offered to Haman was such as the captive could not offer, because contrary to his religion, yet to the mind of Haman no excuse can be given for such neglect. That Haman was destitute of benevolence appears in the fact that for the offence, as he conceived it, of one man, there could be no atonement except by the blood of all this man's kindred and people. Nor does there appear in Haman any senti. ment of justice, for having this sentiment he would have given Mordecai an opportunity to justify himself, whereas now he has recourse to a plot unsurpassed for cruelty of intention. Haman is devoid of mercy as well as of justice, else he might have had some pity for the captive Jews; but instead of that, he shows none of those tender feelings which give beauty to the character of a Darius or a Cyrus. Here is a man without benevolence, justice, or mercy but who has, instead, ambition, envy, and that "mad revenge" that kindles without insult.

From this one external act of Haman, in respect to Mordecai, we infer the fearful depth of depravity within. It does not appear but that his character might have been without reproach previous to his promotion. Exemplary conduct, however, previous to an open act of sin must not be taken as proof of purity of character at any time, for the external acts of sin may be compared to the eruptions of a volcano which sometimes occur only after intervals embrac ing centuries, while the internal depravity is like those pent fires which lie couched beneath the base of the moun

tain, where in secret the lava wave is in perpetual motion. The cloud may cease for awhile at the crater, but those secret fires never cease from the heart of the mountain. So Haman may appear in the execution of but one wicked design, but from this one we know all. In this we read his capacity for intrigue and base design, from the inception to the conclusion of his plot, as he gloats over its promise of success in the privacy of his family; as he goes to that last banquet of the king and queen, so assured of success, where, as he is about to make that final petition which rises to the climax of his baseness, the queen has also a petition, disclosing Haman's perfidy, in consequence of which Haman passes from the banquet, not to carry out his base plot, but to disappear from the gallows which he had built with so much care for Mordecai.

From the life and death of Haman, among the lessons to be noticed there is:

First, this that the wicked man cannot go unpunished. It is a fundamental principle in the Divine government that it shall be well with the righteous and ill with the wicked. To the realization of this principle all events are made to transpire, so that all things have reference to it, so that there is nothing casual in the universe. This is because there is an unseen Hand moving beneath the surface of daily and seemingly casual affairs, holding constant control. That Hand from the depth of eternity planned the order of the universe, fixing immutably the bounds of right and wrong, so that the right can never be made wrong by any change of circumstance, or the wrong be made right by any seeming utility or delay of the visitation of justice. While this apprehension of justice is clear and convincing as an idea entertained by the mind, it stands out in the greater clearness of comprehension when illustrated by a practical example. Such an example is given in the life and death of Haman. Wickedness appears not as an abstraction, but as the rule of a life, as a living personification of selfishness, as a

force of evil in the human will which dares to leave no means untried in the way to secure selfish aims in the face of whatever warnings or threatened penalty; as wickedness before which the question thrills every conscience not dead, whether its deeds can be done with impunity. There is no relief to this question until that punishment, seemingly delayed for a space, comes swiftly at last with convincing proof that the wicked man cannot go unpunished. Haman may fortify himself by all the power of subtlety; his name may startle the multitude as he passes along the galleries of the Persian court; his word may be the king's counsel, his nod an oracle; but by so much as he excels in crime and power, so much the more glowing the illustration he must furnish of the higher might of justice and of God.

Another lesson is that the wicked man will be punished when he least expects it. All that occurred previous to the second banquet, so far as Haman could discern, was in his favor. At first he dared not petition for the death of Mordecai alone, and so masked his hatred of the individual under the petition for the destruction of all the Jewish people. Gaining the ready assent of the king encourages him to ask at the next banquet for the peculiarly ignominious death of Mordecai. He is so sure of success that he builds the gallows for Mordecai beforehand. He knows that he is the king's favorite, and feels quite sure of being a favorite of the queen, else why should she invite him to the banquet with Ahasuerus? He is so sure of success that he rejoices over the prospect in the privacy of his family. But when the wicked man feels most secure, then is the hour of his peril. That state of fearlessness shows his ripeness for destruction, indicates that the measure of his iniquity is full. Hence it is written that "Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall;" so that the day of judgment cometh "unawares."

Another lesson is that the wicked man

will be punished by means of his own devising. There is an old Roman proverb that there is no law more just than that the devisers of death should perish by their own art." The saying is peculiarly applicable to Haman, when it appears that however elated he might be in telling to his family the story of his successes, there is no particular that gives him so much satisfaction as the prospect of his personal revenge upon one man, though procured at the cost of thousands of lives. And so, when the gallows for the destruction of Mordecai was suggested, "the thing pleased Haman," pleased to think a plan of so easy device had been suggested, pleased to think how the object of his envy should give his last struggle on that ignominious device, pleased as he hears the ring of the saw and the rattling of the timbers as each tenon meets its mortice in the construction of the device. Since to him sin is such a sweet morsel, how can he help being pleased with the device by which he hopes to enjoy it. There is here no extenuating circumstance to show that he ought not to perish by that very device which he had designed for the innocent.

It must be remarked that in the life of Haman there is nothing peculiarly his own, except the time and manner of manifesting his wicked designs. The depravity in which these originated is universal. It operates in and gives character to every man not regenerated by the Holy Ghost. As the law of gravitation is the same in essence, whether it bind together the smallest particles of matter or the masses of matter which compose a planet, so the "law of sin" is the same in essence, however varied may be the actions that flow from it. In this sense the character of Haman is repeated in every impenitent person. Haman is a mirror in which every impenitent character, as to quality, is reflected. This is not saying that every impenitent person is guilty of murder, or is the prime minister of a powerful king, or has ever wished for a nation's ruin; but that every such per

son has the elements of character from whence such deeds proceed. There is in the heart a perverse self-love which labors for the accomplishment of selfish aims, to the exclusion of the love of God. There is the fear lest some one may be thought more deserving than self, while the object of such suspicion becomes the object of envy and hate. Then, how much stratagem is resorted to in order to eclipse the supposed rival, and clothe self in a shining garment. But this was just what Haman did.

Thus sin is a law working with as much certainty in man's moral nature as any material laws work in the physical world. The law of sin is so connected with the universe that it must and will work the death of all who make it their rule of life. It blinds the reason, shuts out from the soul the Spirit of God, and causes men to blindly plot their own ruin for eternity. Hence the glory of Christ as the Saviour of sinners, as in Himself the Way, the Truth, and the Life for all who will believe in Him.

TREASURED TEARS.

BY REV. J. F. ELDER, D.D. [BAPTIST], ALBANY, N. Y.

Put thou my tears into thy bottle.-Psalm lvi. 8.

THE SO-called lachrymatories, or tearbottles, found in museums of art, were applied to no such use as their name implies. They probably contained unguents that were used in preparing the dead for burial; which accounts for their presence in tombs. However Doetic in the abstract, the idea of gathering the tears of the mourner or the dying, it becomes supremely ridiculous when reduced to practice by means of these

tear-bottles."

The Psalmist rather had in mind the skin bottle of his day, in which, by a bold figure of speech, he conceives of God as treasuring our tears with that same divine carefulness which numbers the hairs of our head or notes the falling sparrow,

We live in a vale of tears. Indignation forces them to our eyes; anger makes them leap from their hiding places; grief opens the floodgates; even pity will moisten the cheek, and joy make our tears distil as the dew. Pain often wrings them from us in full measure. That was a quaint conceit of Dickens where he says, A kind word fell into the well of Little Dorrit's heart, and splashed the water up into her eyes." Indeed, it seems as if Jeremiah's prayer were almost superfluous : 'Oh, that my head were waters, and mine eyes a fountain of tears."

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Tears are sometimes called womanish. But the Bible does not repress the tears of its strong men. Jacob wept and made supplication to the divine athlete that found him at the brook Jabbok. Joseph wept till the house of Pharaoh heard. David wept for Absalom as one might mourn for an only son. Hezekiah's tears and prayer turned back the shadow on his life's dial. Peter wept bitterly over his woeful fall. Paul was a copious weeper, serving the Lord with tears. Jesus wept. Nor should we be ashamed of this "honorable dew." A tearless life is apt to be a selfish or a shallow and frivolous life. "Prithee, weep, May Lillian, Gaiety without eclipse Wearieth me, May Lillian." But why should God treasure our tears in His bottle?

1. As a token of prayers to be answered.

The

Tears and prayers are closely connected. "Strong crying and tears' accompanied the " prayers and supplications" of Christ in the days of His flesh. woman that was a sinner said nothing as she bathed the travel-stained feet of her Lord with her tears. But her sins, her many sins, became as snow. Such tears are the guarantee of sincerity, the evidence of moral earnestness, and the token of prevailing prayer. The tears in God's bottle represent petitions filed away for answer in His own good time. Tears of godly parents and of faithful Sunday-school teachers who have wres

tled with God for the conversion of children may thus be preserved to plead before the throne long after the suppliant's voice has been hushed in death.

2. In token of wrongs to be avenged. The tears of martyrs thus treasured up plead like the blood of Abel. With the tears of the oppressed, which He has in His bottle, God fills the vials of His wrath, and pours them out in turn upon the air and upon the throne of the oppressor; and the inhuman tyrants gnaw their tongues for pain. It is a perilous thing to make a little child to weep by our cruelty or by injustice to smite the fountain of tears in the widow's heart. Every such tear of the poor and needy is gathered into God's bottle, and will be a swift witness against us, till the wrong is atoned for or avenged.

But the Christian's tears are transient. Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning. In the Father's house there will be no sorrow nor crying. God's own hand will wipe away all tears, and we shall so completely forget our earthly sorrows, perchance, that angels will need to bring forth in crystal vases some of these treasured tears to assure us that we ever wept. And this may be another reason for putting them into God's bottle

THE INCREDULITY OF THOMAS. BY REV. JOHN MCNEILL [PRESBYTERIAN], LONDON, ENG.

But Thomas, one of the twelve, called Didymus, was not with them when Jesus came, etc.-John xx. 24-29.

HERE is a man in difficulty about the subject of the resurrection. It is a great subject. Thomas could not take it all in at once. Paul quotes an objection: "How will the dead be raised, and with what body will they come?" Thomas was just such a man. He appears characteristically, ever like himself whenever referred to in the gospels. No disciple or apostle is seen in clearer delineation. At one time, weary and

puzzled, he says, "We know not whither thou goest; how can we know the way?" Again, he exclaims, "Let us go with Him and die with Him;" and here, when the others rejoice, his face lengthens, and he seems even to get petulant and angry as he speaks, "Except I see," etc. But let us come to some practical points which may be of personal benefit.

1. How did Thomas get into this condition? Great doors may swing on small hinges. This eclipse of his faith, which threatened to be permanent, was occasioned, was it not, by his absence from that meeting? I think that Thomas might nave been there if he had desired. Many of us are slow to believe, but quick to doubt. The vision of Thomas to me is that of a slow man, thick set, beetle-browed, solid and stolid, a splendid man, indeed, if you can only get him to move unanimously," for large bodies move slowly. Had he lived now, this nineteenth century would have spoiled him, so rich is it in opportunities to doubt. Thomas breaks away from the disciples and segregates himself. He says, "I've got a big think on hand, and I want to get away from John and from Peter-they tire me; and from those women-they are too rapturous, and have their ups and downs too easily. Great things have happened, and more wonderful may be at hand. I want to be alone and think this matter all out." Ah, Thomas, dear, I want you to try a simple cure for your doubts. You may have a great power of intellect, but we simple folks advise you to come to the prayer-meeting, or just take a look into the Salvation Army! I'm glad to see you smile. Anything to rouse you, for you have no heat, no celerity, no momentum. Nothing pleases you, for you think nobody can hit the angle of your doubt. For your soul's sake, Thomas, come in here! I haven't a great intellect I know -my critics say so, and we both agree

but if I chose, I could utter some brand-new, patent doubts as good as yours. Thomas, remember your name

-"one of the twelve"-come back to us. Remember the exhortation not to forsake the assembling of ourselves together as the manner of some is. Exhort one another. Keep warm by physical contact and by hearty fellowship.

A lady of education and social standing-an author-wrote to me a sad but honest letter, and said in substance, "Every word you spoke about Thomas went home to my poor, proud, silly heart. I was a follower of Christ, but ashamed of my fellow-Christians in the country village where I was, and so went into the society of those who had more culture, though without grace. I left the sheep and went to the goats. They are more clever, you know; but when I showed any of my sheep traits, any respect for the old faiths, the goats butted me with their horns." Dear friend, bewildered like Thomas, come to us. You may say, "Small pots are soon hot ;" never mind, come with us, and we will do you good. Be present at the meeting. Yes, Thomas, dear, you just find Didymus and give him a good talking to.

2. How was this incredulity overcome? I've said some hard things about Thomas; but, really, I'm not sorry that he got into these tantrums, played the fool for us, and spoke unadvisedly with his tongue. We have in him an instructive lesson, for he was a rara avis, an honest doubter. He wanted to believe. It made him nearly mad to think that he doubted. He fought against his doubt. We are proud and conceited, and display our doubt as a white cockade is made to be displayed upon the hat. We like to show our un belief to all about us. Thomas was unwilling to take the testimony of others as to the resurrection of the Lord. Nothing second-hand would suit him. "Except I shall see in His hand the print of the nails, I will not believe." He may have been vexed that the Master had appeared to others and not to him, for He knew that he loved Him. Coleridge says that to be wroth with one you love "brings madness to the

brain." Now, this hesitancy of faith on the part of Thomas gives evidential value to the story. It stamps it with naturalness and sincerity. Supposing that you had heard that a child, brother, wife, or parent had risen from the grave-were it possible-and appeared to another far away, would you not ask with acute sensibilities, "Why not to me?" Is there a continent too broad, a sea too stormy for you to cross to reach the risen one

"Loved long since, and lost awhile ?" Nay, if he be not far off, but near at hand! Verily the word is nigh thee if thou wilt believe. How indifferent we are to our best Friend, and how slow to follow Him! He has promised to meet even with the few; but if the night be wet or cold we stay away. He has promised to be with us "all days" to the end. If the per cents go up we are glad, if they go down we are sad. We have capacious beliefs intellectually, wide throats, and bolt them down whole, and have spiritual dyspepsia. That's what is killing us. This is practical infidelity, blighting, sickening, more harmful than the infidelity outside the Church. To be a Thomas at his worst would be the beginning of hope to some of us. Thomas comes back. Absence and presence are the two points of the story. I can see the blush on the face of Thomas. He “wilted,” as you Americans say, when he first saw the Lord. Christ is a very human Saviour in His ways. He takes us down and half laughs at us even when He helps. He shows us what fools we are, and how unreasonable all our doubts have been by which we have limited God's grace. It is said that all tears shall be wiped away when we get home; but really, I think there'll be some red faces in heaven for the first five minutes when we see the Lord and think how we have treated Him. Unbelief is shameful, and your doubt is the same old stupid thing that as of old seemed to sit with its thumb in mouth with ignorant self-content.

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