transmutation into an alien tongue. It is much if, in such a case, while the form is preserved, the warmth and colour are not lost.

Many of the productions of the foreign pulpit have however recently become familiarized to the English reader in his own tongue; and we can scarcely doubt that those who have followed M. de Pressensé through his scholarly and loving exposition of the Life and Times of Jesus Christ, will welcome from the English press a volume of his eloquent sermons.

The " Mystery of Suffering," the first series in the volume now presented to the public, appeared in the Pulpit Analyst of this year, and is translated by the Rev. R. S. Ashton, B.A. The second series, which, while more miscellaneous in form, has also a unity of thought and purpose, appears now for the first time in English. The whole is the reproduction of a volume entitled "Etudes Evangéliques," published by M. de Pressensé in Paris at the close of the year 1867.

While local separation, and the yet wider barriers of languages and modes of thought fcreign to our own, prevent the realization of that oneness which is the aim and ideal of a catholic Christianity, we cannot but rejoice in every opportunity of drawing closer the bonds of sympathy with our brethren in other lands, and thus anticipating in some little measure the time when, in perfect harmony, -a grander thing than perfect unison-every kindred, and tribe, and people, and tongue shall blend their homage to the Redeemer of the world.

GREAT SHELFORD, CAMBRIDGE,

August, 1868.

ANNIE HARWOOD.

THE VOICE OF THE CHURCH, AND THE CRY OF THE

The Mystery of Suffering.

I.

The Origin of Suffering.

"Wherefore, as by one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin; so also death passed upon all men, for that all have sinned."-Rom. v. 12. WHEN Job in the midst of his distress was reviewing his past prosperity, he finished the picture of his former condition, as distressing as it is splendid, with these admirable words, "I dwelt as a king in the army, as one that comforteth the mourners." A profound and truly sublime saying, representing as it does consolation as a royal prerogative. I know of no nobler prerogative in the moral world; there is no power to be compared with it. History has often beheld men bound to triumphal cars, their opposition subdued, and the dominion. of might established. Every day we see men compelling the admiration of their fellows by the display of their genius, or by the extent of their knowledge, and so establishing the dominion of mind. But the highest greatness consists in comforting those who mourn, in binding up broken hearts, in restoring youth and life to wasted souls, and in establishing the dominion of a love which triumphs over all our miseries. For the subjugation or humiliation of a people, violence is sufficient: savage forces, once let loose, will always prevail in this lower domain over the best organised tyranny. Nature's free daughters, according to the poet's expression, devouring flame or a raging sea, are mightier than an Attila to terrify and destroy. A metaphor will suffice

B

to dazzle the imagination, and too often a sophism will mislead the understanding; but you will not long deceive the man who is grappling with the hard realities of existence. Make him master of his pain, take away its sting, comfort him; and you have exercised the most powerful influence over him. Hence we do not hesitate to declare that if humanity has found a true comforter, capable of restoring its peace and joy, it has found its king; it has not to seek for a greater ruler. This is the decisive test of systems and religions. No mystery equals that of suffering; it overwhelms the mind, and breaks the heart. In the knot of human destiny this is the most inextricable part. To untie it, we must satisfy the mind and appease the soul; that is, we must have knowledge and power. Neither philosophy alone, nor feeling, even the noblest, can solve it. If this difficult problem has not yet forced itself upon us, it is because we have not awoke from the morning dream with which life begins. But sooner or later the illusion will be dissipated, either as regards ourselves or our friends. All along our path we meet with disease, poverty, and decrepitude; and we must ultimately acknowledge that, however brilliant the comedy may have been, its last act is always tragic. We need only to meet in the streets of our cities some mournful procession going the way of all the earth, and that will dispel our indifference. The time will come when we shall hear ascending heavenwards a general wail, the voice of humanity. And when life begins to trouble and to burden us, and we really look within upon ourselves, we shall discover that the human soul is a world still more desolate than the cuter one; and, forgetting our prosperity at least for a moment, we shall hear the universal groan of an unhappy race rising far above all harmonies, whether sweet or brilliant; and then in our turn we shall ask, in all its awful solemnity, the great question which earth asks of heaven, "Why is suffering needful? Why, if there is a God on high, is His creature here below condemned to sorrow?"