It is true that, "under the sun," the clouds return after the rain; and, because it is true, we turn to that firmament of faith where our Lord Jesus is both Sun and Star, and where the light ever "shineth more and more unto perfect day."

Let the keepers tremble, and the strong men bow themselves. We may now lean upon another and an everlasting Arm, and know another Strength which is even perfected in this very weakness.

The grinders may cease because they are few; but their loss cannot prevent our feeding ever more and more heartily and to the fill on God's Bread of Life.

Let those that look out of the windows be darkened: the inward eye becomes the more accustomed to another—purer, clearer—light; and we see "that which is invisible," and seeing, we hopefully sing—

"City of the pearl-bright portal,
City of the jasper wall,
City of the golden pavement,
Seat of endless festival,—
City of Jehovah, Salera,
City of eternity,
To thy bridal-hall of gladness,
From this prison would I flee,—
Heir of glory,
That shall be for thee and me!"

Let doors be shut in the streets, and let all the daughters of music be brought low, so that the Babel of this world's discord be excluded, and so that the Lord Himself be on the inside of the closed door, we may the more undistractedly enjoy the supper of our life with Him, and He (the blessed, gracious One!) with us. Then naught can prevent His Voice being heard, whilst the more sweet and clear (though still ever faint, perhaps) may the echo to that Voice arise in melody within the heart, where God Himself is the gracious Listener!

Let fears be in the way, we know a Love than can dispel all fear and give a new and holy boldness even in full view of all the solemn verities of eternity; for it is grounded on the perfect accepted work of a divine Redeemer—the faithfulness of a divine Word.

The very hoary head becomes not merely the witness of decay, and of a life fast passing; but the "almond-tree" has another, brighter meaning now: it is a figure of that "crown of life" which in the new-creation scene awaits the redeemed.

If appetite fail here, the more the inward longing, and the satisfaction that ever goes hand in hand with it, may abound; and the inward man thus be strengthened and enlarged so as to have greater capacity for the enjoyment of those pleasures that are "at God's right hand for evermore."

Till at length the earthly house of this tabernacle may be dissolved. Dust may still return to dust, and there await, what all Creation awaits—the glorious resurrection, its redemption. Whilst the spirit—yes, what of the spirit? To God who gave it? Ah, far better: to God who loved and redeemed it,—to Him who has so cleansed it by His own blood, that the very Light of God can detect no stain of sin upon it, even though it be the chief of sinners. So amid the ruins of this earthly tabernacle may the triumphant song ascend above the snapping of cords, the breaking of golden bowls and pitchers, the very crash of nature's citadel: "Oh, death, where is thy sting? Oh, grave, where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God that giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ."