looking forth so thickly upon us from the banks and hedgerows of the deep country lanes; the white hawthorn and the yellow furze-bloom new bursting into glory on the hillsides hard by, and shedding on the warm air around their full, faint odour; the fields as they carpet themselves over with the now daily thickening grass and yellow buttercups, please God; all nature in its spring-tide of joy and in its summer life, all these things in their happiness, as they fulfil the law of their being, please Him.

And we too, in so far as we are fulfilling the law of our being, shall please Him. Howbeit to us He has given a higher and severer law than He has vouchsafed to them not one of these things knows the awful and eternal difference between right and wrong none of these things has a conscience: on them lies no responsibility for the consequence of their action. At times, indeed, we half envy them; never with the same fresh freedom as they, can we fulfil the law of our being: for evermore there is set a sad tinge on our happiest efforts through our knowledge of good and evil. Still, when we look upon them in their calm order, and their consummate though passing beauty, then, if we are wise, into our hearts and spirits comes some reflex of the joy of God; and, beholding all this onward-moving life, we

are called to meditate concerning the very ways and works of the Lord, to marvel and adore, and are led to feel-as nearly all must feel at some time or another-a more or less conscious yearning to be at one with nature in spirit, so that we would fain breathe the prayer, Teach me to do the thing that pleaseth Thee,' teach me to fulfil the law of my being before I too pass away into nothingness as all else, teach me to do with all my energy, with every power of head, of heart, of hand, to the fullest measure of my capability, 'teach me to do the thing that pleaseth Thee.'

On this, almost the first bright summer Sunday we have had this year, I would ask you to put away, as far as may be, all sad thoughts, and to think of but one way in which you as boys should fulfil the law of your being, even in your hours of play and recreation from work. Then, as you please yourselves -think-do you please Him? Does there seem anything unnatural in bringing the thought of pleasing God into closest connection with your sports and happiness, and with all the blithe simplicity of cheerful boyhood, while here, as yet as yet-far from the din, and dust, and noise, the glitter and the worry of the vain world, in your games in the field, your wanderings together into the country, your pleasures in the boats, your play-hours on board,

your laughter and your voiceful joy, you are free and do as you like,—to ask then, do you in these things please God? Why should you not? Why should not God be glad to see you glad? Why should not God be happy when you are happy, pleased when you are pleased? Be assured He is, in so far as in all these things your will is in harmony with His Will, and your boyish conscience remains unsoiled and void of offence. For it is part, and no small part either, of the fulfilment of the law of your being that you should be thus cheerful and free from care, and should enjoy yourselves, as all young bright things in nature enjoy themselves, to the full extent of your privileges and opportunity, and so please God.

But now I wish to speak to you especially of but one of these your pleasures, of your friendship for each other for by the way in which you use your friendships or misuse them, you may most please God or most displease Him.

Nothing better than friendship calls forth those qualities in your nature which most please God: for nothing better than friendship conduces to the formation of an open-hearted, well-developed character. Good humour, geniality, generosity, self-denial, some consideration at least for others besides oneself, are required in a friend, and these qualities always please

men and as to pleasing God, all self-sacrifice, whether in the daily round of duty towards others or in the devotion of the whole self to one high object, is akin to, and is one with, love to others; and love is life, and pleases God, for it is of God. Nothing teaches you better than does friendship lessons of mutual confidence and trust: and 'without trust,' we read in the Epistle to the Hebrews (xi. 6), 'it is impossible to please God.' There is nothing which is a surer bane than friendship against all sulkiness and grudging, or greedy, selfish sullenness. And of a truth scarcely anything comes more naturally to the majority of you than this feeling of and desire for friendship. There are very few-if indeed there be any of you who have not one or two special friends, in whose company they take special delight, and with whom they chiefly share their joys and pleasures, and to whose sympathy they are wont to appeal in their troubles and their difficulties. Some few in a term there may be who have no chum, no friend:

Give them a word, they return a blow;

Harsh and fierce of mood, rough and savage of deed;
Hated or feared the more-who knows?

The genuine wild-beast breed.

But with these we need not dwell to-day; they, at

any rate, are of the number of those of whom S. Paul

says that 'they are in the flesh, and cannot please God,' that is, they are only selfish, and think only of satisfying their own selfishness in some form or another, and so these 'cannot please God.' But on the other hand these boyhood's friendships, that come so naturally to the best of you all, are, or should be, the very beginnings of higher things. The conviction of a true heart and thorough sympathy close at hand is the greatest support and help in good that any man or boy can have. By the right use of friendship you may please God more than in almost any other way, just as you may displease Him most by its abuse.

Now let us regard both sides for a few minutes. First, as to the way in which too many are apt to abuse friendship; and then, secondly, as to its proper use and the benefits which we receive thereby.

I. It is undeniable that friendship is too often made the stepping-stone, not to higher things, but to worst falls; and that many a one has his friends who, some from weakness, some from blindness, some even from wilfulness and wickedness, make the duty that should be easy difficult, so that he has, perhaps, his dearest and most intimate friends to thank for his ever having fallen into sins which, left to himself, he would. either have never known, or would have shrunk from