it exists. We know that an infinitely wise Creator would not frame such a wonderful casket to enclose a worthless bauble. The matchless workmanship of the casket is sufficient assurance of the priceless value of the jewel it enshrines.

But let us examine this treasure. It comes from no earthly mine. It sparkles with more than a diamond's brilliancy. It will outlast earth's most durable gems, and will shine with increased lustre when the stars are dim with age. Let us regard, for a moment, our intellectual nature. This is a spark from the great central Light of the universe. It partakes of the nature of the divine Mind. Upon it is the deep impress of the infinite Deity. As we survey its powers we rise above our present sphere, and all material things, to claim our rela tion to the intelligences of the spiritual world. With these powers in view, we dare approach the "great white Throne," and address Him who sits thereon with the significant appellation of "Our Father." Here is reason, which can be confined to no place, and to which God has given the freedom of all his worlds. From the centre of our being this power penetrates every domain of knowl edge. It reads inscriptions of truth where daylight never dawned, and finds, in the depths of infinity, stars and suns whose rays never fell on mortal vision. Bearing with it a few primal facts and simple laws, it explores the temple of the universe, and measures its grand proportions. It ranges all its reaches of science, gathers truth from all, and grows more and more into the likeness of the infinite Reason.

Consider next, imagination, invested with creative power. How rapidly it can frame its ideal worlds, and how glorious its creations.

"The forms of things unknown, she turns to shapes,
And gives to airy nothing, a local

Habitation and a name."

Thought now flashes before us, claiming our notice. What a gigantic power is this. By its energy old em pires have been overthrown, dynasties cast down, institu tions shattered, and the deep-worn channels of antiquated customs effaced. By its tireless energy the mightiest

forces of nature have been subdued. Even that fearful power to which the sturdy oaks and solid rocks have yielded, has been conquered at last, by the force of thought. Leaping from the human brain, it has met the descending lightning and vanquished it in its own chosen battle-field. But even more wonderful than its power is the rapidity of its movements. What so quick as thought? Nature has no courier that can keep pace with it. It far outstrips even the "swift-winged arrows of light." A sunbeam requires over eight minutes of time to pass from the sun to earth. Thought will flash through that distance in a single second. Nay, in less time than is required to read this sentence, it could visit each planet in our system, or reach the farthest star that has been discovered. It knows no space, and time affords no measure of its velocity. Now, it is hovering over the earth as the the fiat goes forth, "Let there be Light;" and, now, it pierces the starless gloom of nature's everlasting night! How marvellous is the product of the mind. Who can contemplate its power and celerity and not feel his relation to that infinite Mind whose thoughts the universe embodies! And how significant the existence of that nature to which it belongs.

In this survey of our mental powers let us not overlook memory. By this faculty life's scenes are daguerreotyped and retained. It gathers up our experiences so that nothing is lost. Forms of beauty, objects of love, scenes of delight, all are treasured in its ample halls; and by its magic power life's sadder experiences and darker hours are softened and brightened, until we can linger around them with sacred joy. Aided by time, it can change our tears to rapture, hallow the deepest wounds our love has received, and make the very graves, by which we have wept and shuddered, the most attractive spots of all the earth. And this power is immortal. It guards its treasures with unslumbering vigilance. Even death has no power to efface a single form or feature from its imperishable canvass. Such is memory, a faculty which all possess, and which, in the life to come, will be able to recall every experience of the present state. How significant must that existence be which is endowed with a power so marvellous and divine?

But mind is not our crowning glory. We have nobler powers than it possesses. Our moral nature is our highest endowment. Here we find reverence, bending low before the infinite Majesty,-conscience, with its ear ever turned towards his throne, and love, yearning to lean upon his bosom. We have now reached the divinest attributes of our nature, those which, raised above the shadows of earth, bask perpetually in the light of heaven. Who can contemplate these and not realize life's momentous meaning? And how greatly is this consciousness of its significance deepened by the remembrance that these moral and religious faculties, nay that all our spir itual powers, are immortal. They will not perish with the body, nor will they expire when nature sinks with age. Eternity alone is the measure of their duration. What a stirring thought is this, that we, who have so often gazed on the beauty of earth, and the splendor of the skies, shall not have passed the morning of our existence when the sun is turning to ashes, and the stars are being swept from their places like autumn leaves. How impressively does this thought assert the meaning of our existence. Indeed, its weight is almost oppressive. But we will make no effort to cast it aside, for we need a view of the eternity that is before us to make us realize the worth of the present hour.

Another consideration here presents itself, well calculated to deepen the impression of the preceding. It is the end or purpose of our existence. A knowledge of this purpose is necessary to a full development of life's moral significance. It would be impossible to realize this significance while ignorant of life's purpose. And what is this purpose? How shall we define it? How shall we define it? We can give no better reply than this: It is the complete development of all our powers, the perfection of our nature. We were made capable of growing into the perfect like ness of the great Exemplar,-of becoming perfect even as our Father in heaven is perfect. Heaven is the sphere for which we were destined when our powers were given us, and our existence conferred. We were made capable of becoming fit companions of the angels. We shall be clothed with a glory like theirs, and shall experience the bliss they now enjoy. We shall stand as near the Eternal as

they now stand. How this consideration adds to the sig nificance of our being. Endowed with such capabilities, the heirs of such a destiny, surely we cannot dream away our earthly life. We cannot float aimlessly down the current of time. We cannot be indifferent to the scenes through which we pass, nor lightly regard the experiences whose impress we bear.

Do we need still another thought to quicken our sense of life's meaning? It is at hand: our lives are exerting a lasting influence upon others. We do not, we cannot, live to ourselves alone. Each life that touches our own is permanently affected by the contact. It receives some influence from us which helps determine its course, and which modifies its moral condition. Society may be compared to the atmosphere. All its parts are affected by the force which disturbs any particular part. The moving of the hand in the air, for instance, not only displaces the particles which it touches, but, in theory, moves every particle between the poles. So, in social life, each individual actor affects the mass. All, to some extent, are influenced by the acts of each. What one does, no matter how lowly his sphere, affects the social condition of the whole. But this is not all. Our actions will live after we are dead. The deeds we perform are seeds cast forth into the far future, as well as around upon the present. Some of them may not germinate until long after our bodies have turned to dust. Over our graves, in the wider field of posterity's interests, they are to grow; and there, for weal or wo, their fruit is to ripen. The Omniscient traces in the social condition of our age, results that have flowed from the deeds of each individual that lived in the first century of our era. Two thousand years hence, the same omniscient One will detect effects in man's social estate that were produced by the deeds we are here and now performing. Such is our relation to the present, and the future of our race. Thus does every man's life flow into, and mingle with the great current of social existence. How important then each act of our lives! What significance has each opportunity for action! And how divine must be the meaning of that existence from which such far-reaching and permanent influences flow!

We cannot forbear naming, in this connection, two

other considerations of interest. They grow out of the relation which the present life sustains to our heavenly estate. The present is the dim dawn of our being. The life that now is, stands related to the immortal future as childhood's season to the maturer years of manhood. This, then, is life's morn; and around us is kindling such effulgence as will make our eternal day. This is childhood's season, that must soon end in the higher estate of a maturer life.

The first consideration which these facts suggest is this. The present may be the school-time of the soul. God may have placed us here to acquire the rudiments of knowledge. We are now, perhaps, laying the foundation of an intellectual and moral growth which will proceed through eternity. And how great are our advantages. Eloquent nature is our teacher. Her text-books are the mountains, seas, rocks, and rivers. Her geography is mapped in brilliant colors before us. The trembling leaf and silent flower, as well as the rending earthquake and awful volcano, lecture on the chemical forces. Her mathematics may be studied in the architecture of the bee-hive, and in the proportions of the solar system. Some incentive to study, and aid to progress, is furnished by every object we behold, from the floating mote to the rolling globe. And this is our first and last opportunity here. Soon, very soon, we shall be called from these rudimental studies to resume them no more forever. Let this thought quicken within us a sense of this life's significance.

Again. We have said that the present life was the season of our childhood. The views we get then of this universe, are but the child's views. All things are robed in the colorings which life's morning imparts. From this stand-point we shall never behold them again. No more will they be clothed in the hues they now wear. Although our vision is limited, what we see is invested with such freshness of tint as only life's dawn can bestow. True, we have but just crossed the threshold of God's great temple, and are standing in its vestibule. But can we survey its proportions-its beauty and grandeur, and not realize more impressively the import of our present opportunity, as the thought takes possession of our minds that we shall soon be above and beyond what now over