what singular that on each occasion it is used in a good sense. Paul, who uses it, must have been familiar enough with the evils wrought in the world by the spirit of ambition; but it seems as if he wished to Christianize the word, and to cast into a Christian mould that natural "love of honour" which so often finds its outcome in the restless, selfish strivings of an ambitious worldliness. To the Romans he speaks of himself as being "ambitious to preach the gospel "especially where he would not be "building on another man's foundation." Paul "loved honour"; but it was the honour of being an "ambassador for Christ "—the privilege of bringing the divine message of salvation to the souls of men. He craved honourable distinction; but it was the distinction of being willing to face dishonour for the sake of the truth. Then, to the Corinthians he speaks of being "ambitious to be well-pleasing" to the Lord. Paul did not crucify his natural love of approbation; but he directed it into a safe and holy channel. He felt that it was a small thing to be judged of man's day"; for he was looking forward to "the Day of the Lord," whose searching light would reveal "the secrets of the heart." Once more, Paul exhorts the Thessalonians to be "ambitious to be quiet, and to do their own business." Ambitious to be quiet! There seems to be almost a touch of irony in the expression. But the apostle meant it seriously enough. He meant that the Thessalonians should give up the restless excitement which was leading them to despise their ordinary, commonplace work, and that they should make it a point of honour to live a life of quiet, steady, diligent fulfilment of duty.

Let us never

Here, then, are three phases of Christian ambition which we preachers and pastors may well cultivate. Let us be "ambitious to preach the gospel "-faithfully, earnestly, and lovingly, as it ought to be preached to preach it with the primary object of saving, and blessing, and helping the souls of our hearers, whether they be many or few. forget that it is an honourable and weighty task to address even a small audience on things divine and eternal. Let us also be "ambitious to be well-pleasing to Christ." To please men, and to secure their favour and adhesion, is a poor affair, if we are not seeking such ends and pursuing such methods as Christ approves. And then, again, let us be "ambitious to be quiet, and to do our own work" to which we have been called. It is not always the most prominent work that is the most useful. It is not necessary to make a great noise in the world in order to promote that kingdom which "cometh not with observation." Let us seek to be more resolutely attentive to those duties which bring no special promotion or applause. We can make it a point of honour not to be greedy of honour. We can cherish a spiritual dignity which shall pour contempt on our own pride. We can be ambitious to rise above the restless cravings of a mere worldly ambition. Sometimes we are apt to think too much about our own influence, or too eagerly anxious that the spirits should be subject to us. Ought we not "rather to rejoice that our names are written in heaven"-to think less of our own personal power and visible successes, and to think more of the honour of being enrolled as soldier-citizens of the kingdom of God?

My one point, then, this morning, is that, if we would exercise more power in the world for good, we must discard all mere selfish and social, and even ecclesiastical ambitions, and cultivate more earnestly the holy ambition of growing in Christian goodness, and doing our simple duty. There are some things which we secure more easily by not being too eager and anxious about them, and I suspect that spiritual influence is one of these things. You remember the old fable of Orpheus-how he had nearly regained his loved Eurydice, but in his eager impatience looked back to see if she were really following him, and then lost her for ever! There is such a thing as losing our influence by turning our eyes too much upon it. When we can say of any man that

"He never turned his back, but marched breast forward, Never doubted clouds would break,

Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph,

Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better,

Sleep to wake,"

then we know that such a man is sure to have exercised spiritual power over others. When any man marches steadily forward towards the upper light and air, keeping his eye fixed on godly character and simple duty, he may well leave his influence to take care of itself, or rather God will take care that his influence shall follow him.

THE RELIEF OF CONSTRAINT.

[Reprinted from The Manchester, Salford and District Congregational Magazine, July, 1882.]

It is sometimes a great relief, in practical life, to feel that we are simply shut up to a certain belief or to a certain course of action. It is this that often gives to the scientific investigator a positive and justifiable assurance as to the conclusions at which he arrives. In the earlier processes of investigation many possible results may be present to his thought; but, as test succeeds test, one hypothesis after another is rejected, and the issue is gradually narrowed until, by some final and crucial experiment, he is constrained to adopt a certain conclusion. Thus also a statesman, whilst theoretically it might seem as if several courses of action were possible to him, may nevertheless feel, at a given crisis, that he is shut up to one course, and that all others are meanwhile excluded from the sphere of practical politics. So, too, in ordinary life, we may sometimes be halting between two opinions, finding it difficult to determine which of two views has the preponderant evidence in its favour, when suddenly some fact of which we had been ignorant

comes to our knowledge, and immediately one of the two scales kicks the beam. Or again, we may be hesitating between several possible courses of action; we feel ourselves overburdened by the responsibility of choice; and the gravity of the issues involved may make decision the more difficult and suspense the more painful. Then perhaps, whilst we are thus pondering and hesitating, some event occurs, or some fresh complication of circumstance arises, over which we have no control; and this renders impracticable all courses but one, so that we may now take this one course with a feeling of relief. It is not only that the tension of suspense is relaxed; the burden of responsibility is also lightened. And it is significant that this sense of relief is often experienced even when the one course to which we are constrained is a course which involves a greater amount of labour or of suffering. Indeed, the very hesitation of a pious and conscientious man sometimes springs from the fact that he is afraid, on the one hand, of shirking duty through choosing a path of greater ease, and afraid, on the other hand, of "tempting Providence" through choosing a path of difficulty or danger to which God is not calling him. And so, when the easier of two courses is rendered practically impossible, a godly man may well experience a feeling of relief. He knows that he cannot be tempting Providence, when Providence itself is shutting him up to the course of danger, difficulty, or suffering. Having been in painful perplexity as to his true path, he is relieved to find his way "hedged up" for him, even though it be "with thorns." And, being thus set free from the responsibility of choosing his own course, he casts