The contrast would be yet more striking were the thoughts thus laid open to view those which had flowed during an hour of public worship. The posture of the body, the words of the mouth, might be the same, but the current of thought would appear as different in individuals, as the pestilential drainage from a marsh from the clear brooklet bearing health and fertility wherever it flows. It is impossible for us to obtain this glimpse of the stream, this knowledge of the thoughts in the minds of others, but have we ever endeavoured to gain it as regards our own? Have we tried to retrace the windings of the current for one single hour, and so enabled ourselves to estimate more correctly whether God's grace has in any degree purified "the issues of life," and imparted to our souls some measure of "holiness unto the Lord"? Is such purity of thought actually requisite for—actually indispensable to a true Christian? To judge by the standard of the world, even that which is called the religious world, we should at once conclude that it is not. The pre-eminently spiritual Christian stands almost as singular amongst his brethren as did the high priest of Israel amongst the sons of Levi. But is not this because Christians live below their privileges, so that comparatively few let their light so shine before men that God is glorified in His saints? Let us, ere we close our meditations on Aaron's mitre and its inscription, earnestly, prayerfully, revolve the solemn exhortation addressed to the servants of Christ: "Follow peace with all men, and HOLINESS, without which no man shall see the Lord." [Illustration] [Illustration] XIII. Balaam's Staff. IT is with a sigh that we look on aught that reminds us of Balaam, the highly honoured, the highly gifted—he "which heard the words of God, and knew the knowledge of the Most High, which saw the vision of the Almighty, falling into a trance, but having his eyes open." In Balaam we behold a mournful example of light without heat, knowledge without practical wisdom, the gift of prophecy without that more excellent gift of charity. Here is the staff which Balaam grasped when eagerly setting forth upon his unholy errand, desiring to curse those whom he knew that his God had blessed. What was in the heart of the seer, when, with repeated blows from that staff, he strove to urge forward the reluctant, frightened ass which he rode? Not jealousy for the honour of God—not impatience to carry the blessing of religious knowledge to Moab; but one absorbing desire for his own advancement—his own profit, though at the cost of the misery and the ruin of God's chosen people! Most forcible is the expression used by one of our most talented writers to describe a character utterly selfish, such as that of Balaam appears to have been: "A selfish man's heart is 'just the size of his coffin;' it has room to contain but himself." A description which presents to us an image not only of narrowness, but of death.