God does not promise that He will improve our nature, or that He will mend our broken hearts. No; the promise is, that He will give us new hearts and right spirits. Human nature is too far gone ever to be mended. It is not a house which is a little out of repair, with here and there a slate blown from the roof, and here and there a piece of plaster broken down from the ceiling. No; it is rotten throughout; the very foundations have been sapped; there is not a single timber in it which is sound; it is all rottenness from its uppermost roof to its lowest foundation, and ready to fall. God doth not attempt to mend; He does not shore up the walls, and re-paint the door; He does not garnish and beautify, but He determines that the old house shall be entirely swept away, and that He will build a new one. It is too far gone to be mended. If it were only a little out of repair, it might be restored. If only a wheel or two of that great thing called "Manhood" were out of repair, then He who made man might put the whole to rights; He might put a new cog where it had been broken off, and another wheel where it had gone to ruin, and the machine might work anew. But no; the whole of it is out of repair; there is not one lever which is not broken; not one axle which is not disturbed. "The whole head is sick, and the whole heart is faint. From the sole of the foot to the crown of the head, it is wounds, and bruises, and putrefying sores." The Lord, therefore, does not attempt the repairing of this thing, but He says, "A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you." _The Christian's Daily Cross._ Believer, Christ Jesus presents thee with thy crosses, and they are no mean gifts. _Joy Over the Repenting._ The angels know what the joys of heaven are, and therefore they rejoice over one sinner that repenteth. We talk about pearly gates, and golden streets, and white robes, and harps of gold, and crowns of amaranth; but if an angel could speak to us of heaven, he would smile and say, "All these fine things are but child's talk, and ye are little children, and ye cannot understand the greatness of eternal bliss; and therefore God has given you a child's horn-book, and an alphabet, in which you may learn the first rough letters of what heaven is, but _what it is_ thou dost not know. O mortal, thine eye hath never yet beheld its splendors; thine ear hath never yet been ravished with its melodies; thy heart has never been transported with its peerless joys." Yes, we may talk, and think, and guess, and dream, but we can never measure the infinite heaven which God has provided for His children. But the angels know its glory; hence a reason that they rejoice over the repenting sinner who has thus become heir to such an inheritance. _God's Tender Care._