strength, but rather a living, breathing messenger of grace, going forth in search of the lost, traversing the whole world in its benevolent mission.

The work of the Church remains the same to-day as at the beginning. It is still to go forth, unwearied in labor, disheartened by no difficulties, dismayed by no danger. The field is still the world. Whithersoever man has wandered, thither the voice of mercy must follow; wherever immortal souls are found, there the tidings of peace are to be proclaimed.

No man sent of God into fields "white to the harvest," ever began his work in truer apostolic style than did John Wesley and the bands of earnest co-laborers whom he summoned to his aid, both in England and America. Without wealth, without honor, at the beginning without even an organization for mutual defense and support-often not only uninvited, but in defiance of fierce opposition-they went forth to tell the story of Jesus, trusting in Providence for the bread of the day and the shelter of the night. The fathers of American Methodism, as well as their English co-workers, feared neither hunger nor thirst, nor cold nor heat, nor toil nor danger. They were endowed with holy courage and burning zeal. They were constantly listening for the opening of new doors-constantly trying to push into the regions beyond. The itinerant often left the conference with directions to go into a given part of the country and break up new ground; to lay out a circuit where none of his brethren had ever preceded him. Sometimes he knew not where he should preach his first sermon or see the first friendly face; and he felt as strange as did Columbus on his first voyage of discovery when he left the track of other navigators, and, looking no more to the shores familiar to his eyes, but to his compass and the stars, boldly pushed into unknown seas. Announcing his errand as he journeyed along, the preacher accepted an invitation to hold service anywhere-in schoolhouse, dwelling, or barn-and at the close of his sermon offered to come again in four or six weeks, if the people desired it. Thus the country was explored and the circuit was formed. Where four or five converts were found in any one neighborhood they were organized as a class, and a leader was appointed with direc tions to meet the little flock once a week, in the absence of

the preacher. As converts multiplied and strength increased, churches were built, and the society gained permanence and position in the community.

Thus by the force of accidental circumstances, as the world would say, but providentially, as we believe, grew up the Methodist itinerancy, with its constant changes and restless energy. That itinerancy has been, and still remains, a power in the world. We do not claim for it that it has no drawbacks, or that it combines, in itself, all the advantages of all other systems of ministerial labor. We do claim for it that in the past it has wrought wonders; and that it is still a good and wise arrangement, possessing elements of efficiency and excellence which the Church cannot afford to lose. So far from being anxious to divert attention from the occasional jars which occur in the working of our enginery, or to cover up points of friction, we prefer to bring them to the light, that every avoidable defect may be remedied, and every invincible evil reduced to its minimum.

Some features of the itinerancy are not advantageous to the congregation.

1. The people are restricted in the choice of their pastors. We place this admission on record first, not because it has the weight which some fancy, but because it naturally stands at the beginning of this part of the discussion. There is, in in fact, no congregation where even the majority have this matter wholly in their power. In all denominations the large and wealthy societies have an advantage over others. The weakest and poorest may indeed call any minister whom they choose; but whether he will come or not is another question. Nor are we to deem a man who has his preferences a sinner above all that are in Jerusalem. If he is ready to sacrifice usefulness for ease, souls for salary, he lacks the spirit of his Master, and has no divine call to the work. Nevertheless, where the prospect of doing good is, in his honest judgment, equal, no man is under obligation to choose want, discomfort, and social separation for their own sake. Paul never submitted to stripes when he could avoid them without neglect of duty; he never stayed in jail when he could get out. For this reason, even where churches are established on the Independent plan, they may be as much restricted by a want of

means, as others can be by ecclesiastical law, in the selection of their pastors. The more feeble the church, the smaller their chance of getting the very man they want, and the smaller the probability of their keeping him after they have succeeded in getting him "settled" among them. The system of the Methodist Episcopal Church does not forbid the expression of preferences, either among ministers or people; nor does it forbid that these preferences shall have all the weight to which they are entitled. Still, as our system places in the hands of the episcopacy powers which would otherwise belong to ministers and people generally, and as restriction in Church or state is unpopular, we concede that this feature of the itinerancy is, on the surface, an objection to it.

2. The itinerant system, at certain fixed intervals, removes the pastor with whom the people have become acquainted, and substitutes a stranger in his place.

Where the pastor remains many years in the same location, he becomes familiar with the names, the faces, the history of all who attend his ministrations. He is acquainted with the religious state of each of them, and is prepared to warn, encourage, rebuke, exhort, not at random, but understandingly, just as an old physician knows the constitutional peculiarities of his patients, and how to prescribe for them. Long-continued kindness and friendly intercourse, enforced by holy living, give power to his words. Year after year he is with them amid life's changing scenes. He officiates at marriages and funerals; he is the family friend and adviser, who has long shared in their joys and their sorrows, and whose very presence suggests a thousand tender memories, even the saddest of which only strengthen his hold upon their hearts.

But among us, every three years, as the law now stands, the minister is assigned a new field of labor, where he is partially or altogether a stranger. New faces surround him; and months, at least, must elapse before he can establish that friendship and mutual confidence which are so desirable both for his usefulness and the good of his people, or even call them by name. This feature of the itinerancy is certainly not one of the elements of its strength.

3. This continual changing of pastors is liable to make the

labors and plans of the Church a thing of fits and starts and changes.

One pastor considers the condition of the church where he is located, looks around upon the community, and proceeds to lay his plans for doing good. He has his convictions in regard to the Sabbath-school, the teachers' Bible-class, the class-meetings, the circulation of tracts, and he convinces his people of the soundness of his views, and puts them in operation. Interest is created, good is done, and greater good promised. But his three years expire; he goes his way and his successor comes. He, too, has his convictions and his plans. The arrangements made by his predecessor do not suit him; and he lays them aside for other plans and agencies, which are no longer-lived than those which they supplant. Thus the church suffers, because nothing lasts long enough to do its work. The changes in the pastorate are not favorable to the success of measures which require time to develop their results.

4. Another evil incidental to the itinerant system is, that, under it, societies and congregations have less cohesive force than their own good demands.

Our ecclesiastical loyalty regards the whole Church, rather than the particular society to which we are attached. In towns and cities where there are several churches of our own denomination, they fear each other more than any other rivals. When the official brethren are considering whom they would like to have for their next pastor, the thought uppermost in their minds is, the necessity of securing a preacher at least equal in attractive power to their neighbors', that their congregations may not scatter. A Methodist church half a mile away, disturbs them more than half a dozen churches of any other name on the same square. If three or four Methodist churches are within easy reach of each other, the competition is almost too strong for good fellowship. If one of them secures a preacher of uncommon popularity, the others undergo a depleting process. Some members of the church, and many more of the congregation, drift about very much as the tide carries them. If those who are entitled to certificates of membership would take them, and, enlisting under their new leader, be good and faithful co-workers with him, the injury

which they inflict, and the loss which they sustain, would be less. But just in the degree in which they form the habit of wandering about from Sabbath to Sabbath, they are useless in the church to which they belong, and valueless everywhere else. They form no settled religious habits. They are available for no important work. Having no root anywhere they have no more chance for spiritual life and growth than a tree would have of living and growing if it were dug up and set out in a new place every three days.

This, we are persuaded, is one cause of the fearful amount of apostasy among us. If every one of our professed converts could be made to see clearly and feel deeply that he is in duty bound to be an active, steady worker in the society whose register bears his name-that in the house of God, whenever opened for worship-in the Sunday school, the class room and prayer meeting, there is a place which God and the church expect him to fill-that in the path of faithful, habitual obedience lie peace and safety, "glory, honor and immortality," and there alone-there would be fewer cases of religious failure among us. They who would prosper spiritually, must have a spiritual home. The Psalmist compares the ungodly to chaff blown about with every wind, while the true servant of God is as a tree whose leaf never withers, because it is "planted by the rivers of water." There are plants which float upon the surface of our ponds, and have no hold upon the soil. There is also a rootless Chinese plant which draws its sustenance from the air alone; but neither the native production nor the foreign curiosity ever becomes a tree.

Just in proportion to the number of those members who have no root, no feeling of local responsibility, a society lacks solid strength. Where they are numerous, the Church is unsteady and unreliable. Within the space of a few months, or even weeks, it will pass from a comparative solitude to a crowd, from apathy to enthusiasm, from the freezing point to fever heat, and back again. This is the sin which doth so easily beset the Methodist Churches in the cities. The plan of renting the pews, whatever may be its disadvantages in other directions, tends, in a degree, to remedy the evil. The recent lengthening of the term of pastoral service will also, we think, lessen it. But the best remedy for it would be a deep