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the bare branches of a large cherry-tree on the lawn before me, and then pass onward, who can say whither ?

But it is not of the breezes, pleasant as they are, that I purpose now to write. I want to jot down a few thoughts suggested to my mind by the cherry-tree on the lawn.

It is a noble specimen of its kind. Its gnarled and knotted trunk shows signs of age and decay, though the three enormous limbs into which it divides itself appear healthy and strong.

In the summer, when the fruit is ripe, the tree presents a busy scene. The jackdaws from the neighbouring church tower find their way to it and revel in the fruit it bears, flocks of chattering starlings, too, settle among its branches and take their share of the juicy spoil, until disturbed, when, with a rush and a swirl, their glossy plumage glistening in the sunshine, they betake themselves to some neighbouring place of safety, only to return again as soon as the cause of their alarm has disappeared.

For more than a century the old cherry-tree has stood where we now see it, braving the storms of winter and rejoicing in the warmth and sunshine of the beauteous summer. A hundred springs have clothed its branches with tender green, and a hundred autumns have scattered its leaves abroad.

Who can tell what changes have gone on around it during this lengthened lifetime? Other vegetation has sprung up and flourished, become old and died, only to be replaced by more, which in its turn has passed through the various stages of vegetable life, and then dropped into decay.

More than three generations of men have eaten of the fruit of the tree. Where are they now? Many, very many have passed away from this world, and are now in that happy land of which we know so little, but of which we are told that in the midst of the street of it is the tree of life, the leaves of which are for the healing of the nations.

Yet, though change and decay have been going on all

around, there stands the cherry-tree still. I have said that its trunk shows signs of decay; nor is this to be wondered at when we remember its great age. But there are also signs of disease, or at any rate of degeneration, in its upper branches, which are strange indeed. Far up in its topmost boughs appear several growths of twigs quite unlike the rest. At first sight they might be mistaken for parasites of some kind, but on examining them more closely it will be found that this is not the case. The curious bunches of twigs are nothing more nor less than growths of wild cherry springing from the branches of the cultivated graft. The old nature of the original stock is asserting itself; and now, in the very midst of the good fruit-bearing branches, we find small boughs of the useless, wild tree.

Can it be that

I cannot pretend to account for this. while the tree itself is growing feeble from age, the root is still vigorous and strong, and is sending up into the branches and twigs the sap that produces, not the broad leaf and juicy fruit of the graft, but that which brings forth only the leaves and blossoms of the wild original? I must leave others to decide this question, and will content myself with trying to draw a few lessons from the old cherry-tree.

As Christian men and women, we all love to feel that God, in His great mercy to us, has so transformed our nature, which was originally wild and useless, and capable only of producing evil, that we are now able to bring forth good. fruit, and thus to honour and glorify Him.

But can any of us say that all his branches are good, and that the natural man, the old Adam, never asserts itself and causes sad blemishes in his character? None would be so presumptuous. "If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.”

"I am the vine, ye are the branches," said our Lord. "He that abideth in Me, and I in Him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without Me ye can do nothing." Here we find revealed the cause of our unproductiveness of what is good, and our proneness to bring forth that which is evil.

We depend too much upon ourselves, and too little upon Him, without whom we can do nothing. Let us ever strive to remember that our natural state is one of sin, and that it is only as we draw strength from above that we shall be enabled to live as becomes those who have named the name of Christ.

But

Let us also learn a lesson of humility. Not boasting ourselves that our mountain stands strong, and that we shall never be moved. Not thinking that because, up to the present time, we have been kept from falling into sins common to some, we need not watch and pray against them. let us think, that just as the old cherry-tree, which bore nothing but good fruit for many years, is now producing useless and disfiguring shoots, so may we, unless we are kept by the goodness of God, fall into sinful courses which will do much to mar and disfigure our Christian character; even though for years we have avoided them. Let us remember that it is by the grace of Cod that we are what we are, and on no account flatter ourselves that we are of ourselves better or stronger than others.

We should also learn to look charitably upon the failings of our fellow Christians. We may deplore them, we may, and we ought to, use our influence with those whose weaknesses we perceive, to help them to overcome those weaknesses. It is our duty to pray for them, and, by all the means in our power, to strive to build them up in the faith. But never should we despise a brother because among his good we perceive some things that are evil.

To say of another that he cannot be a Christian because he does this or that which is not right according to our views, is as foolish as it would be to say that the old cherrytree had never been properly grafted when it was young, because now, after bearing loads of good fruit for many years, it is throwing out some branches that properly belong to the wild tree.

It is possible, I do not say that such is the case, but it is possible, that had the tree been pruned a little more in its

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younger days, it would now have been free from the disfigurements of which I have written. And is it not that we may be preserved from falling away and forgetting our God, that the great Vine-dresser sometimes uses the pruningknife to us ?-the pruning-knife of disease or disappointment, of poverty or of affliction, I mean. These may come very sharply, and appear to us very unnecessary; but if we are indeed God's children, we may be sure that the discipline is for our good. We may have been bearing very little fruit, and it was needful that we should be pruned, in order that we might become more productive. "Every branch (in Me) that beareth fruit," says our Saviour, "He" (that is God, who is here spoken of as the husbandman) "purgeth it, that it may bring forth more fruit." Or it may be that the discipline was prospective, and that He who can see the end from the beginning knew that, unless the pruning were resorted to, we should, in after days, produce diseased and unprofitable wood. Whatever, then, may befall us, we may know that it is for our benefit, and should be able to say, "It is the Lord; let Him do what seemeth Him good."

One other thought, and I must close this paper. Although the old cherry-tree produces useless and disfiguring branches, and they in their turn bring forth bud and flower, the flower of the wild cherry, they never bear fruit. The flowers show themselves for a short time, but they invariably fade and fall before the fruit is formed; the tree does not bear two kinds of fruit.

May we not comfort ourselves with this thought? that although from the corruptness of our nature we may be led into evil, that is, to keep up the analogy, we may bear the branch and even the flower of our wild nature, yet, being grafted into the true vine, the all-wise Dresser of the vineyard will not allow the fruit to ripen, but will, in some way or another, stay its growth, and destroy it ere it come to maturity, and work death in us. May we not be confident of this very thing, that He which hath begun a good work in us will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ? G. H. S.

H

The Triumph of Trust.

ow brightly over Judah's hills

The noonday sunlight fell,

Where spread before its chieftain's eyes

The camp of Israel.

For, out against the host of God,
Philistia's armies came;

They knew not of His mighty acts,
Nor feared His holy name.

And daily Israel heard with dread

Their giant champion cry,

"Send forth a man to fight with me;
Your armies I defy."

Why starts no soldier from the ranks,
To still Goliath's boast?

Has terror taken hold of all

Saul's once courageous host?

One day a ruddy shepherd boy

To Israel's camp drew near;

He heard the giant's shout, and marked

All faces pale with fear.

"Now who is this," he cried, "who dares

Our vengeance thus to brave,

When God, who fighteth on our side,
Is ever strong to save?"

They brought the stripling to the king:
"Dost thou not fear to go?

Ah! boy, thou know'st not what it is

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To meet so strong a foe."

Sire," said the lad, "in Bethlehem's fields

I guard my father's sheep;

And often through the dreary night

My watch alone I keep.

"One night a prowling lion seized
A lamb from out the fold;

I ran, and by the help of God,
I slew that lion bold.

And can I doubt that He who was

That night my strength and stay, Will aid me as I go to fight

The Philistine to-day?"

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