spirit of the message destroys all possible good effects and turns the word of God into an angry snarl. It might, therefore, be well to decide to preach along lines of accusation, exposure, judgment or warning only on those days when the heart is happiest, when life goes well and the cheek of health glows with its brightest bloom. Perhaps the resolution might take such a form as this:--_Resolved: Never to preach a hard sermon when I feel like doing so_. All this is no fancy picture, and the peril indicated is not imaginary but real. The story of Jonah is left to all time for the warning of the preacher. Seated yonder in his booth, biting his nails in vexation, he is the type of the preacher whose righteous indignation, because of its lack of that element of unselfishness, and that spirit of pity by which moral anger should always be qualified, becomes simply grim and merciless wrath. "Doest thou well to be angry?" the eternal voice asks of him and of all who follow in his prophetic line. It was not thus that Jesus looked upon the multitude. They despised Him--many of them. That He knew. They accused and slandered Him one to another and in their own secret hearts. Some of them said He was a glutton and a wine-bibber, others that He had a devil, others, again, that He was the friend of publicans and sinners. They ate His bread, accepted His healing kindness, and all the time were making ready to cry, "Not this man, but Barabbas," when opportunity should arise. All this He understood, but "when He saw the multitudes He was moved with compassion on them, because they fainted and were scattered abroad as sheep having no shepherd." "All His words are music, Though they make me weep, Infinitely tender, Infinitely deep."