know this from the gloomy history of the orphan child, the widowed mother, the bereaved sister, brother, friend? You know that to love dearly means to have a skeleton in your house. The object of your love causes a thousand smiles to play in your eye, and to break on your countenance; but the shade of that object is mocking your mirth, and is only waiting a few rounds of the clock to compensate mirth with misery. Nor is this all. There are sorrows far more terrible than those of sickness or the cemetery. A living sorrow defies rivalry. It has a fearful pre-eminence in woe. A wayward, wild, debauched youth; an estranged husband; an embittered, irascible, worldly wife; a stormy, or, what is far worse, a sullen home; these are amongst the darkest illustrations of the doctrine, that our sighs are in the track of our smiles; our delights become our dangers; yea, it sometimes seems as if affection became idiotic, and then, like the raving maniac, we laugh and cry together. So we are "born to trouble." This being so, it is important to listen to testimony concerning the remedy which troubled souls have found efficacious. If we have one such man, able and willing to give his fellow-sufferers a cure for care, it is surely prudent to hear what he has to say. Accordingly, let me ask you to follow me while I try to establish a cure for all afflicted souls from the experience, conviction, and anticipation of a royal mourner. I invite you to come with me to the side of a man like one of us. Listen to him struggling up the great altar-stairs of faith sustained by love, and, as he peers into the Unseen, he speaks as if to one warm with life, charged with ardent sympathy, and he says, "Oh, what troubles and adversities hast Thou shown me; and yet didst Thou turn and refresh me!"