"Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto thy name give glory, for thy mercy, and for thy truth's sake."—Psalm cxv.
Suppose that the air which man breathes, instead of returning from his lungs clear and imperceptible to sight, were tinged with colour; we should see, that every time a man breathed, the air would rush in a stream into his mouth, and then return again; and the air which returned would, being warm, be lighter than the outer air, and would rise upward over the man's head, where, cooling and mingling with the outer air, it would descend again. We do, in fact, see this action evidenced; when in winter time the cold condenses the vapour of the breath, we see the little cloud constantly rising before the breather's face, and dispersing in the surrounding air.
Is it not a wonderful thing that that clear and elastic substance, which you cannot feel, though it touches every part of your body, and which you cannot see, is composed of two distinct bodies, having very different properties; and that the two bodies can easily be separated from each other?
Air is of the first importance to life. Hence it is provided for us everywhere. We require air every second, water every few hours, and food at intervals considerably apart. Air is therefore provided for us everywhere. Whether we stand or sit; whether we dwell in a valley or upon a mountain; whether we go into the cellar under our house, or into the garret at the top of it, air is there provided for us. God, who made it a law that man should breathe to live, also sent him air abundantly, that he might comply with that law. And all that is required from man in this respect is, that he will not shut out God's bounty, but receive it freely.
As we have employed the idea that if the air were coloured we should have the opportunity of marking the process of breathing, let us enlarge upon this, and suppose that every time the air were returned from the lungs it became of a darker colour, the darkness denoting increasing impurity. If we placed a man in a room full of pure air, we should see the air enter his lungs, and sent back slightly tinged; but this would disperse itself with the other air of the room and scarcely be perceptible. As the man continued to breathe, however, each measure of air returning from the lungs would serve to pollute that abiding in the room, until at last the whole mass would become cloudy and discoloured, and we should see such a change as occurs when water is turned from a pure and clear state into a muddy condition. The air does become polluted with each respiration, and although it is colourless, it is as impure as if with every breath given off from the lungs it became of a dark colour in proportion to its impurity.
Thus we see how important it is that we should provide ourselves with pure air; and that, in seeking warmth and comfort in our houses, we should provide an adequate supply of fresh atmosphere—because it is more vital to life than either water or food.
Indeed, so constant is our requirement of air, that if we had to fetch it, for purposes of breathing, or simply to raise it to our mouths, as we do water when we drink, it would be the sole occupation of our lives—we could do nothing else. For this reason, God has sent the air to us, and not required us to go to the air. And the great error of man is, that in too many instances, he shuts off the supply from himself, and brings on disease and pain by inhaling a poisonous compound, instead of air of a healthful kind, which bears an adaptation to the wants of life.
"There is a natural body, and there is a spiritual body."—I Corinthians xv.