TJ Have you not seen the way in which men construct arches ? A number of beams, wooden uprights, and cross-pieces are con- structed into the form of the arch which is to be. The structure looks very confused and flimsy, it is difficult to trace the design, and one spark of flame would consume the whole ; but upon its span the bricks and stones are deposited which will last for genera- tions. So upon the mean structure of daily drudgery, which excites no enthusiasm, which strains the muscles and wearies the nerves, is being built up a character which will be " a thing of beauty and a joy for ever " when the heavens have passed away " as a scroll." 2
We cannot kindle when we will The fire which in the heart resides;
The spirit bloweth and is still In mystery our soul abides.
But tasks in hours of insight will'd
Can be through hours of gloom fulfill'd.
1 Henry van Dyke. a F. B. Meyer.
i CORINTHIANS x. 31 317
With aching hands and bleeding feet We dig and heap, lay stone on stone;
We bear the burden and the heat
Of the long day, and wish 'twere done.
Not till the hours of light return, All we have built do we discern.1
^J Do not ask for great opportunities of service, or be dis- appointed if you feel no glow of devotion to other people or even to God. We are all too anxious to be conscious of beautiful feelings ; they comfort us and lead us to think that we are in the right way; but the real test is obedience — doing the right things as far as we know them. Feelings are very misleading : let them come when they come ; do not be disheartened if they do not come, or if when they come they soon vanish. This I think is the path to higher perfection ; at any rate no other path is certain. Hold fast to the assurance that God wants you to have the mind of Christ; pray for it; but meanwhile, whether your heart goes with it or not, try in humble, unostentatious ways to serve Christ by serving others.2
TJ Only one letter received by this momentous mail brought the least encouragement to Coillard — it was one addressed by the Kev. W. G. Lawes, of the L.M.S., New Guinea, to Mme. Coillard, who had gone out with him and his wife in the John Williams (1860).
11 Port Moresby, September 18, 1877.
" I remember you perfectly as you were then, and have sometimes been helped and strengthened by the remembrance of your strong faith. . . . Our work on Savage Island was very delightful. 'All work for Christ is that,' you will say, and so indeed it is, but it had in it that which human nature rejoices in — a large measure of success and prosperity. It was my happiness to baptize upwards of one thousand converts, to train a band of young men who are now at work as pastors on their own island, and as pioneers on this and other heathen [islands], and, above all, to translate into their language the whole of the New Testament and part of the Old. . . . I felt sorry to leave the work on Savage Island, but the call to harder work, more self-denying work, is an honour from the Master's hands. Does He not in this way deal with His servants? Is not the reward of service in His Kingdom more service, harder service, and {measured by human standards) less successful service ? We deal just so with our children,
1 Matthew Arnold.
* The Life of R. W. Dale of Birmingham, 664.
318 MAN'S CHIEF END
and we ought not to repine when our Father calls us from some loved, congenial work to something more arduous and difficult."
These words at such a time came to them — to M. Coillard especially — as a message straight from God. It was not the only time that a letter, apparently quite accidental, opportunely shed light upon his path, and showed him, as he himself would say, how real is the Communion of Saints, and what a myth is the supposed rivalry of sects and societies, when each other's experiences, successes, and even apparent failures teach such lessons of faith and obedience in God's service.1
Love and pity are pleading with me this hour.
What is this voice that stays me forbidding to yield, Offering beauty, love, and immortal power,
iEons away in some far-off heavenly field ?
Though I obey thee, Immortal, my heart is sore.
Though love be withdrawn for love it bitterly grieves: Pity withheld in the breast makes sorrow more.
Oh, that the heart could feel what the mind believes!
Cease, 0 love, thy fiery and gentle pleading.
Soft is thy grief, but in tempest through me it rolls. Dreamst thou not whither the path is leading
Where the Dark Immortal would shepherd our weeping souls ? 2
1 C. W. Mackintosh, Coillard of the Zambesi, 288, •A. E., The Divine Vision, 78.
Proclaiming the Lord's Death.
V9
Literature.
Arnold (T.), Sermons, iv. 228.
Bonner (EL), Sermons and Lectures, 193.
Book (W. H.), Columbus Tabernacle Sermons, 183.
Brown (J. B.), The Sunday Afternoon, 219.
Calthrop (G.), Pulpit Recollections, 207.