To this I answer: "Are you quite sure you have no time? Let me ask you to look back upon your day, and tell yourself honestly how much time has been spent in melancholy musing, in useless regret, or worse than useless foreboding; perhaps, in brooding over some real or fancied injury or affront. Surely these hours would have been more pleasantly and profitably spent in the way I have suggested. Just because you have so much to do, you need the refreshment of the hidden spring—of the pure water which flows from the Fountain of Life." "I am engaged in a great deal of Church and charitable work," says another; "has it not been said that labor is prayer? And may it not take the place of meditation as well?" Just as well, and no better. You might as well say that labor is eating. It is a pretty and plausible saying, but it is not true. Labor is not prayer, any more than it is food or sleep. No one needs more the refreshment of the hidden spring than the person who is engaged in mission or charitable work. There is so much to discourage and dishearten, there are so many failures and disappointments and mistakes, that the worker needs all the aid and comfort procurable not to grow morbid and discouraged. "Yes, it is all very well for healthy people," says another, "but I am an invalid." Just because you are an invalid do you need to learn the art of governing your thoughts. No one is tempted more than an invalid to the indulgence of those useless and harmful musings of which I have spoken. Sharp and severe illness is an occupation in itself. But to the chronic patient; able to be about a little, perhaps to do a little light work, how long are the hours of the day! How much longer those of the night! How fancy pictures to us the pleasures of the world which we cannot enjoy! How often do Satan and our own corrupt hearts conspire to suggest hard and unkind thoughts of friends and attendants, yea, even of God Himself. How are our uneasy pillows haunted with the ghosts of dead joys and hopes and plans, and still more dread phantoms of sins and failures and fears for the future! I have been a bad sleeper all my life, and in many an hour of wakefulness have I blessed the old-fashioned Sunday-school method of "seven verses and a hymn," which stored my mind with whole chapters of the Bible, and with the best devotional poetry. I wish this old fashion could become a new fashion again. I have never seen a better. "But there is such an abundance of good books!" True, but all the books in the world are worth very little to the person who is content with merely reading them. We can think, moreover, when we cannot read, and half an hour's earnest and prayerful consideration of a chapter or verse of God's word will be of more value than a dozen commentaries without such consideration.