Once more, in the night voyage of the disciples over the sea of Galilee I see shadowed forth the changing phases of a Christian life. As they cast off from Capernaum, the evening breezes gently pressed their sails; the silvery ripples murmured on the shore; their little ship moved smoothly out at sea. The disciples sit in the cool evening air on deck, and watch the stars which, one by one, light up the vault above them as the shadows deepen and the shores grow dim. They have hardly missed their Master. They scarcely noticed that he had retired from their presence. But as the night wore on, alarmed at the dangers which surrounded them, the affrighted disciples look around for their absent Lord; and finding him asleep, they waken him with their cries for help. The Saviour, calmly rising from his pillow, looks out upon the angry elements, and speaks the word of power: "_Peace, be still_." And the mad winds cease their roar, and the wild waves lie down to rest. "'Ye waves,' he whispered, 'peace, be still.' They calmed like a pardoned breast." Once more propitious breezes waft them onward, till the morning dawn slowly glimmers in the eastern sky, and reveals, in dim outline, the mountain summits of the other side. In all this I think I see something which reflects the lights and shades of a true Christian life. How does the believer at his conversion set out for heaven with the consciousness that Christ is with him. How, after the throes of conviction are past, does he expatiate in the sweet peace of believing, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God. How little dreams the convert of coming danger. How propitious the opening of his voyage. Often is his course so quiet that he suspends his watch, and loses sight of the near presence of Christ. Seasons come when he grows negligent, and perhaps feels no more of Christ's near presence with him than the disciples on the sea thought of their sleeping Master. Christ is not gone from him; but his ardent love towards Him has abated, and he no longer has that felt consciousness of His value he once had, nor does he realize his dependence as he should. Trials come; temptations thicken; doubts and fears arise; Satan harasses him, and inward corruptions start into life again. Then is the soul tossed, like the disciples on the sea; then does the struggling believer look round for his Saviour, and cry, "Save, Lord, or I perish." Such trials of our faith come in the regular course of a Christian towards the other side, like the storm-belts near the tropics which lie in the sailor's route from one hemisphere to the other, and through which he must steer his way. You and I, Christian, have sailed in such latitudes, and heard the winds of temptation blow, and felt the waves of distress dash over our frail bark. Thus we learned our weakness; thus were we humbled; thus were we taught to watch and pray; thus did we fly to Christ, and cry, "Lord, carest thou not that we perish?"