Brethren, another year has passed, and Lent has come around once more. I have no doubt that a great many of you wish that it had not; perhaps you would not be so very sorry if the church would have the goodness to do away with this tedious season altogether. Indeed, I imagine that to some people Lent is one of the greatest mysteries of our religion. And even if it is in some general way acknowledged as the proper thing in its due time, it never seems to come in just at the time that would be convenient. If it comes early, it is a very unpleasant interruption to the winter's pleasures and amusements; if it comes late, why could it not come earlier, so that we could get through and have done with it soon? All the grumbling in the world, however, will not alter the fact. We cannot get rid of Lent, and we cannot fix its time to suit us, even if there is any time which would seem suitable. It is possible, indeed, to free ourselves from its burdens; we may do so either by neglecting its obligations altogether, or by getting somehow or other dispensed from them, without putting anything else in their place. But, after all, if we do this, we shall hardly feel any more comfortable. The best plan is, since Lent is here whether we will or not, to face it boldly and cheerfully, and make the best of it that we can. {158} And, when we come to look at it, is it such a very terrible infliction? Do we not make rather too much fuss and complaint over what is not really such a very great penance? Let us look, then, and see what is required of us. The principal thing, of course, is the fasting, as we call it, on one meal. Now, if we actually were reduced to only one meal in the twenty-four hours, I confess that it would be pretty severe; but, you see, in point of fact, we have the collation, at which eight ounces, or half a pound, of solid food is allowed. Now that is as much as many people would take anyway at tea-time. And then you can have a cup of coffee or tea and a small piece of bread in the morning. So, when we come to sift the matter, the fact hardly amounts to more than this: that the breakfast is rather a light one. And then, for those who really have hard work, even what is left of the fast goes by the board altogether. Well, next there is the abstinence from flesh-meat. Some seem to think this dreadful. "Oh!" they will say, "I can't eat fish; it makes me sick." Indeed? Perhaps you are not very hungry, and do not need anything very much. When you are really hungry the fish will not taste so bad. But, then, who, except indeed the fisherman, wants you to eat fish? I do not think there is any law requiring it to be eaten; and if it has such a bad effect on you I would let it alone and try something else. And though fish is so uneatable, perhaps an oyster or two might now and then be worried down. {159}