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TRUE GREATNESS.

ST. LUKE, Xxii. 24-27.

"And there was also a strife among them, which of them should be accounted the greatest. And He said unto them, The kings of the Gentiles exercise lordship over them; and they that exercise authority upon them are called benefactors. But ye shall not be so: but he that is greatest among you, let him be as the younger; and he that is chief, as he that doth serve. For whether is greater, he that sitteth at meat, or he that serveth? is not he that sitteth at meat? but I am among you as he that serveth."

Ir is remarkable that our Lord does not turn aside the minds of the disciples from the desire of greatness, but only points out to them how it is to be attained. The longing for greatness, like the desire of praise, is inherent in our nature: it is the natural result of the perception of goodness-goodness and greatness being in our minds originally one-because both existing in God. For that which really attracts us all, the worldly as well as the religious, is not evil, but goodness; either real goodness or its counterfeit. The most wicked

man that breathes does not admire wickedness, or applaud it; he applauds boldness, energy, fortitude, the love of freedom,-something-whatever it may be, which his code of morals allows to be a

virtue. But self-deceit leads him to think that he has discovered these qualities where, in truth, they are not to be found; and it is this which is really his fault; not the feeling of admiration which arises in his mind instinctively. And so in like manner the desire of greatness is part of the desire of goodness, because power and rank, and the other constituent elements of greatness, are in themselves elements also of goodness, and in whatever form they present themselves, they have a natural power of attaching us, and we cannot help acknowledging it. To bid us, therefore, crush the desire of obtaining them is simply to bid us undertake an unprofitable task. Some persons may feel their attraction more than others; but taking human nature as a whole, there must always be that within us which sympathises with these things and desires them, and that with an innocent desire, because they belong to the sinless inhabitants of Heaven.

It is very important to us to own this truth, because it will assist us in governing ourselves, and in directing others. One of the first endeavours of a young mind, newly awakened to religious feeling, is to root out every desire or liking which may in any way be connected with the world's admiration. Accomplishments are dreaded, because they may tend to vanity and a love of distinction. The pleasures of taste are looked upon with suspicion, as mere forms of worldly refinement and exclusiveness. Any appreciation of

worldly advantages is considered actually sinful, and the effort is made to destroy it. And still, after years of conflict, the light-heartedness of youth will delight in amusement, the refined mind will sigh for the gratifications of arts and accomplishments, the good things of this world will present themselves to us as blessings; and the heart, judging itself, sinks in despair at its own weakness, and feels it has made no progress in goodness, because it has not learnt to despise that which God never intended it should despise.

No doubt many would call this a very strange assertion, and as a proof of its fallacy point to the warnings in Scripture against the love of the world. And no one can doubt that these warnings are most clear and striking, and that he who would venture to call them unnecessary would be sinfully presumptuous. But the words of our Lord to His disciples, when He bade them seek greatness through lowliness, would tend to show us that our danger lies not in the involuntary desires and tastes which He himself has implanted in us, but in the means through which we seek to attain their gratification.

The world's greatness-including in that term its rank, power, art, luxury, and refinement—are in themselves worthy of admiration, insomuch as they are the visible symbols by which God is pleased to represent to us the treasures kept in store for us hereafter. They are pictures,-scenes, acted before us for our amusement and informa

tion; they give us ideas, and awaken feelings which otherwise would have lain dormant ; and as the picture of a lovely landscape does really possess loveliness, so do they really possess a certain value. But to look at them as realities, to view them as more than transient representations placed before us for a special purpose, and when they have done their work to be set aside as worthless, is to bring ourselves back to the condition of children, looking upon coloured glass, and believing it to be a priceless jewel.

The strength of Satan's art lies in this power of deception. He seizes upon these inherent predispositions which form a part of our original nature,— which are not only sinless in themselves, but fragments of a perfect creation,-and presenting to us the picture of greatness, he whispers to us that it is reality. In our blindness we believe him. Feeling in ourselves that inextinguishable longing for its acquirement which proves to us-whatever may be urged to the contrary-that God intended us to obtain it; we put the whole energy of our being into its pursuit; we follow after it, while still it eludes our grasp; and at length, when, jaded and heartsick, we are allowed for one moment to put forth our hand and touch it, we find that it is but a shadow.

That is the history of the majority of the world's followers. There is another record less sad but equally disappointing it is to be found in the lives of those who, earnest but fearful, have turned

aside from the ways of the world, and followed some self-chosen path, in the hope of crushing, by self-discipline, the natural likings which, because they too often lead to sin, are thought to be in themselves sinful. How weary that conflict ishow unceasing, and for the most part vain-we may gather from the confessions which from time to time have reached us from their own lips, and which are confirmed by the painful inconsistencies of character that meet us in the records of their lives. The man who rejects with scorn the offer of worldly ambition, can yet take delight in the homage offered to his spiritual excellence; the woman who would shrink from mere worldly pomp, as from the most hateful temptation, can yet be led away by the follies of religious dissipation, and the love of religious display.

We may well fear for the consequences when we attempt to be wiser than God who made us. The temptations accompanying a love of power and greatness are resisted far more successfully when in God's strength we face them than when in our own strength we flee from them. Look at the world, look at life as it really is, and what is the value of its gifts? Or rather,-look at death and at Eternity.

One hour by the bed-side of the dying will reveal to us more of the realities of our present existence, than years spent in solitary conflict with the involuntary longings of our hearts.

The spirit about to leave us is, if accepted