Look, first of all, at these clay pots—common enough—jars and jugs, standing in a corner, or perhaps standing out on the veranda, near where the Saviour was sitting. These pots are easily broken, and no great value is attached to them. If Christ had intended to do this great thing you would have imagined that He would have called for the best vessels in the house; but He did nothing of the kind. He took the very meanest vessel of the whole household, and He consecrated and sanctified it to His Divine use.

Look at the water—that is common enough. Wine is costly, but water is cheap; it is thrown about, slopped about, and the pails containing it are often upset because easily filled again. Ordinarily speaking, water is one of the commonest of the commonplace necessaries of life. And yet that water was sanctified for a display of the Divine power.

Then there are the servants—never a scarcity in the East, where often there are three to do one man's work. Christ did not call the master of the house to stand near and observe Him, or say, 'Ye highly-placed guests, come and see'. He left the head people, as we should say, and took the common servants. 'Fill up the jars; draw it out; carry it to the governor; pass it round', was His simple command. And the water was turned into wine. Some one has poetically said, 'The modest water saw its Lord, and blushed'; but it was more than that, for His was the best wine of the feast.

Christ, you see, sanctified commonplace things and persons to display His benevolence and power. Make some practical use of them in regard to your own lives.

It is hardly needful for me to point out that life is very largely made up of commonplaces—commonplace engagements, commonplace relationships, and commonplace duties. There are some who are a little better off than others, but even such people have common things to do before they get through the routine of life. With some of us it is altogether so—commonplace in the home, commonplace in the situation, commonplace in the workshop, commonplace in the office, commonplace in what we do for our living, and commonplace in the persons with whom we are associated. Nothing great or dignified about it. It is indeed a case of 'the trivial round, the common task'.

But, whether you are a business man or a road-sweeper, you can live the sanctified life.

Some of you may be heads of houses or domestic servants, horse-drivers or laundry-workers, factory hands or the owners of factories; but whatever you are, as followers of Jesus Christ, God wants you to put this label upon each and every section of your life—'Holiness unto the Lord'. He wants you also to conduct yourselves in every way consistent with that thought. The pots and the pans, and the bridles of the horses, and whatever we may have to do, must be labelled with that.

'Commissioner, can a man have a clean heart and drive a cab?' a man recently asked me. 'Of course, he can,' I replied, 'and if you come with me I will show you how to do it'.

Why, the way in which we use these things is to be a part of our consecrated service to God. It does not sound very lofty, but that is just where the highest exhibition of Holiness can be given to the world. It is not what you do—that may seem very important or may be very trivial; but it is the manner of doing it and the motive behind it which is the main thing.

You have all heard the story of the servant-girl who had got the blessing, and who, when asked how she knew she had it, said that she knew it because she 'now swept under the mats'. What a very simple thing, and yet the blessing of Holiness just shows itself in that. Sweeping round the mat and in the middle of the room only is not 'Holiness'. The girl was quite right; she knew that the sanctifying Grace of God had made a change in her, because she wanted to clean where dirt would not have been seen even if left there.