He is sick, and Thou knowest it. Thou didst know that Lazarus was sick before the message came; Thou hast known of this illness also all along. Yet let me lay the case before Thee. Suffer me in my prayer to carry him, and lay him before Thee, all weak and helpless as he is. He is very weak and low, his strength fails, and his weariness and suffering are great.

O my

Saviour, Thou knowest this, yet, like these Thy disciples, I venture to come and tell Thee, "he whom Thou lovest is sick."

But thou lovest him! I do not come to Thee on behalf of one whom Thou dost not know. Thou hast known him longer than I have known him, Thou lovest him more than I love him. This thought brings me comfort, that Thou lovest him. I, who would do anything for him, even I do not love him as Thou lovest him. Now, while I have left him for a while, he is not alone, for Thou art with him. Thine eye is upon him in love, while he sleeps. Thou art watching by his bed. Lord, I commit him to Thee, I will trust him in Thy hands Who

dost love him. Thou wilt not overlook him, Thou wilt not forget him.

O heavenly Father, in Thy dear Son's name, my Saviour, I lift up my heart to Thee on behalf of him who is ill. Thou art the God of love, Thou lovest all Thy creatures, especially dost Thou love every one who believes in and loves Thy Son. He who is sick does love Him, and I love Him, and we both look to Him as our Saviour, drawn near to Thee

and by Him we have

continually. Oh, in Thy great love have compassion on us in our trouble. Father, "he whom Thou lovest is sick." Now, while he sleeps, let Thy wonder-working power work in his bodily frame, and subdue the disease, and renew his health and strength. Thou dost not despise the work of Thine own hands. Thou didst create him; oh, do Thou renew him. Thou Who art his Maker, be his Preserver too. In Thy great lovingkindness, hear my prayer for my Saviour's sake, and restore to him the precious gift of health.

"Whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in

My name, He will give it you;" Father, I come to Thee upon that promise of my Lord. If it be according to Thy will, hear me for His sake, and grant me my heart's desire. Amen.

It is this that makes me love them so. All these works of God seem to praise Him, and all make me feel His presence. In the song of birds I hear the voice of Him Who made them. The rustling of the leaves in the breeze speaks to me of the wondrous power that sets each leaf in motion, and reminds me of the breath of His Spirit. All these various sounds and scents speak to my senses and my heart of the Almighty and loving Creator. The summer air and the open window would not bring me half the pleasure I feel, if all things did not speak to me of God. "All Thy works shall praise Thee, O Lord." They do praise Thee; and they lead me to praise Thee.

But "Thy saints shall bless Thee;" Thy holy ones, they whose hearts Thou hast brought to Thee, they who love and serve Thee. If all the lesser works of God praise Him, how should His saints praise Him! Not only because they are men, who can know, and think, and speak; not only because, as men, they have powers which birds and trees and flowers have not; but

because God has graciously shown them His love, and drawn them to Himself, and taught them to see Him in His works and to experience His grace.

O my God, may I humbly take my place among Thy saints, Thy holy ones? Unworthy and sinful as I am, may I believe that, for my Redeemer's sake in Whom is all my trust, Thou dost number me among those whom Thou callest Thy saints? Then would I bless and praise Thee for this very thing, among a thousand others, that Thou dost condescend to place me, unworthy me, among those who bear so high a name. I have heard it used in the world as a name of reproach, I have heard some sneer at a godly man as "a saint." If, in the days of my blind ignorance, I have ever joined with such, Lord, forgive me! But now I think it a title of honour, far higher than any earthly title. Make me, O my God, more worthy of such a name; fill me with the Holy Ghost; pluck out from my heart every root of bitterness, bring down in me completely the power of evil, and make me a saint, a holy one, indeed.

H