December 11

"In His Temple everything saith, Glory!"—Psalms 29:9 (R.V.).

FROM the temple of His world I hear the hymn ascend. The earth, with the life which peoples it; the sea, with the wonders it contains; the sky, with its stars and suns—they speak the name of God, and declare His wisdom and His might. They bid me believe in Him and bow before Him.

From the temple of His Church I hear the psalm mount up. It has a deeper note in it now. It recalls a desperate peril. It celebrates a deliverance which none but He was able to bring about. It extols his many-sided salvation in Jesus Christ. Surely I am joining in the Hosanna and Hallelujah.

From the temple of His child I hear the grave sweet melody proceed. The body is devoted to Him. The conscience speaks out His commandment. The will bends itself to His service. The memory recalls and relates His mercy. The imagination looks forward to His fulness of joy. The heart rests in His love. Am I this worshipping child?

And from the temple of His heaven I hope to hear the music rise and surge and swell. For the best psalms and hymns and spiritual songs are kept for the future. Here, there is much to mar the harmony; there, nothing will annoy. The sight of Christ will fill me with perfect holiness and perfect gladness in a moment. "Beyond the rock-waste and the river," I shall praise indeed.

"Perhaps," George Macdonald writes of one of his characters, "she never would laugh her own laugh until she opened her eyes in heaven. But how can anyone laugh his real laugh before that? Until then he does not even know his name."