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Man, in the ministrations of mercy is the messenger of Heaven; woman, in the performance of the duty God has given her as an help meet, is His angel. Everywhere His ministers are around us. They come in spicy gales from Araby the blest-they wheel in might in the awful tornado. They whisper in the gentle breeze-they sing in the musical soughing of the trees-they warble with the birds, and are heard in the ripple of the gentle brook, no less than in the awful chorus of the tempest.

From harmony, from heavenly harmony

The Universal Frame began;

From harmony to harmony,

Through all the compass of the notes it ran,
The diapason closing full in man.

The world is one great Bethesda, or House of Mercy. Its inhabitants, frail and weak and sinful, what are they but a great multitude of impotent folk, of blind, halt, withered, waiting for the moving of the waters: waiting in mutual dependence upon each other, that the stronger may aid the weaker, when opportunity opens in God's Providence, or by the unseen ministration of His angels? Who among us can accomplish all that is necessary for his own existence, to say nothing of his own pleasure, unaided by his fellow creatures? Who is able always, or even often to step into the pool unassisted? Of the great multitude at the pool of Bethesda our Savior selected one only as the subject of a special miracle. He who commands the wind and the sea and they

obey him, could have called all these sufferers to life and health and strength. His potent word, the same which summoned Lazarus from the tomb, could have released them all from their infirmities. Why then were they left in bondage? Was it not that the unneighborly selfishness which crowded their weaker brother back-the care which they evinced for their own health, to the unloving disregard of others-the envy and strife which made the House of Mercy a place of contention, induced Jesus to pass them by. They had forgotten, while seeking mercy, to show it. While desiring a miracle, for the relief of their infirmities, they had overlooked their duty of love and compassion to their fellows.

Such is human nature. Such selfishness we have supposed, with every probability of truth, existed at Bethesda. In this great Bethesda,—our world—we know it inhabits. How many languish among us in povertyhow many remain in guilt-how many in ignorance, because, like the impotent man in the gospel, they have none to help them: none, we mean, who are ready and willing. God, who knows all our hearts, knows who among us, doing least, are qualified to do most. When we debate between self and conscience in the silence of our own thoughts: when we think that in our own breasts is the secret hid that we knowingly stifled the whispers of our better thoughts, let us remember what a secret this is, to be known to Him from whom no secrets are hid. Distress appealed-and we have answered at the bar of conscience by selfishness. Or perhaps less

than the surrender of substance-less than the loan of goods has been desired-but refused. When the speaking of a kind word in behalf of another would have helped him out of difficulty, the word has remained unspoken, and our impotent fellow creature is adding year to year till he shall have completed his thirty and eight, aye, even perhaps, his three-score and ten.

"We are verily guilty concerning our brother," if by unkind neglect, or by heartless and careless indifference to his comfort, we permit him to toil and suffer on, when, by a word, a look, a smile, the simplest of simple acts, we might smooth his path, and make him happy. It is an error to wait for signal occasions to do good, while we pass unheeded by, the every-day occasions on which we may testify our love for the brethren. Great opportunities seldom occur-to do good in little things is in our daily power, for trifles make the sum of life.

'Tis a little thing

To give a cup of water; yet its draught
Of cool refreshment, drained by fevered lips,
May give a shock of pleasure to the frame
More exquisite than when nectarean juice
Renews the life of joy in happier hours.
It is a little thing to speak a phrase
Of common comfort, which by daily use
Has almost lost its sense; yet on the ear
Of him who thought to die unmourned, 'twill fall
Like choicest music; fill the glazing eye
With gentle tears; relax the knotted hand
To know the bonds of fellowship again;

And shed on the departing soul a sense
More precious than the benison of friends
About the honored death-bed of the rich,
To him who else were lonely, that another
Of the great family is near, and feels.

The same eyes of compassion are now upon us that rested on the sufferers by the sheep-gate. While, then, God's angels are every where around us, troubling the earth for our good, as they troubled the pool of Bethesda; and while, to test our obedience, and to prove our faith and charity, we are directed to minister to each other in order that all may participate, let no one near us say, that for want of assistance he cannot reach the benefits provided,—but that others step in before him, and debar him of the good he might otherwise receive. While we both hope and wait-in hope looking for better things, and in patience waiting for them-let us not be selfish but seek relief to ourselves in assuaging the tears, and in lightening the sorrows of others. Then, when the last angel which on earth shall visit us-the Angel of Death -shall touch our mortal bodies with his icy hand to help us into the Pool of the Dark Waters, the immortal soul shall find there a greater miracle than was known at Bethesda. It shall rise cleansed from all infirmity, and secure from all relapse. And He who bade the impotent man "Rise and walk," shall receive the Redeemed into His Everlasting Kingdom.

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