never show yourself ashamed of the Church and her teaching. Let every sermon be an echo of the ancient catholic symbols, a melodious voice in the mighty anthem that comes ringing down the ages. Be faithful to your flock in parochial visitation, with godly counsel and timely prayer. Let the sound of your footsteps on the stairs be music to the widow and orphans in the garret, the light of your countenance sunshine in the dismal basement, and your presence a benediction at the bed of death. Take heed to yourself, and suffer not your spirit to be chafed and soured by adverse criticism or unfriendly speech. Allow nothing to hinder the regularity of your private devotions, or rob you of your daily communion with Christ. Come always from your closet to the chancel and the pulpit, filled with your Master's charity, and fired with your Master's zeal. Then shall you come to your people "in the fulness of the blessing of the gospel of peace," verifying by every message and every ministration the Master's precious words--"Lo! I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world." O my brethren! what a glorious investiture is the gospel ministry! Whereunto shall I liken it, or with what comparison shall it be compared? Is there a glory in science? Ours is the knowledge of the unknown God. Is there a glory in letters? Ours is the living lore of the immortals. Is there a glory in poetry? Ours is the burden of the angelic antiphons. Is there a glory in eloquence? Ours is the sweet persuasiveness of a heavenly inspiration. Is there a glory in heroism? We bear the banners of the Lord in the good fight of faith. Is there a glory in royalty? We share the sceptre and the diadem with the Prince of the kings of the earth. Is there a glory in philanthropy? We preach the incarnate love of heaven, born in a cave, cradled in a manger, baptized with blood in Olivet, and enthroned over a ransomed universe upon the cross. Is there a glory in the æsthetic arts? But where are the forms and colors to rival those with which we are adorning the new Jerusalem? and what are the finest bronzes and marbles to the living statuary with which we are peopling her palaces? and who shall ever speak of purple robes and jewelled crowns, that has once beheld the immortal beauty of the humblest saint in heaven? "The glory of the terrestrial is one, and the glory of the celestial is another;" and the Platos and Homers, the Tullys and Virgils, the Shakspeares and Goethes, the Bacons and Humboldts, the Raphaels and Angelos, the Cæsars and Napoleons, the Washingtons and Wellingtons, with whose fame the earth is ringing, drawn into comparison with the men of the pulpit and the altar, have no glory by reason of the glory which excelleth; and I would rather be a priest of Christ, with the apostolic seal and signature to my commission, than wear all the laurels ever won by genius, and enjoy all the triumphs that ever rewarded valor, and sit