VOL. VI.

Thoughts on the Marriage Service.

BY THE EDItor.

II.

'For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health. . . till death us do part.'-Solemnization of Holy Matrimony.

N former days the betrothal or mutual promise was made some time before the actual marriage, at a separate service, as a formal and religious recognition of what is now termed an engagement. This ceremony took place sometimes months, sometimes even years, before the marriage itself.*

One cannot help almost wishing that some such custom were still in use amongst us. Very sad it is to see how thoughtlessly young people often enter into marriage engagements and as thoughtlessly break them. Dear readers, remember that it is no light matter to trifle with pledges of this kind. Many a woman has had her whole life saddened, many a man has lost his trust in all womanly goodness and truth, in consequence of such faithlessness. Do not lightly give a promise of marriage, but do not lightly break it. Sometimes, indeed, it may happen that it is necessary to do so-necessary to cause and to bear a present pain-rather than to risk a life-long misery; but such a

* Evan Daniel, On the Prayer-Book.

No. 61.

step should never be taken without much thought and much prayer; and, indeed, I think if marriage and marriage engagements were oftener made the subjects of prayer, many homes in England would be better, and happier, and purer than they now are.

The old English word 'troth' (treowa), signified faith or trust; and this is the thought that I want to bring to your minds to-day. When you come before God's altar to pledge your troth, you must come with a faithful heart; faithfulness and truth must be the ground-work of a really Christian character, and without this there can be no lasting happiness. Surely one who has lightly and carelessly pledged herself several times over cannot bring so faithful a heart to the holy marriage service as she who has proved her constancy before marriage.

And how is the troth plighted in the Marriage Service? Brave and true ring out the words! Not only in the brightness of youth, not only in the sunshine of prosperity, not only in the spring and joyousness of health; nay, nay, 'For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health. . . .' Many people are very loving and very bright when all things go smoothly with them, when there are no cares to weigh them down, when neither sickness nor poverty have entered their home as unbidden guests; but when

the shadows come over the sunshine, and days are dark and weary, then they become peevish and fretful, and show how little they were prepared for the battle of life.

6

But this is not a faithful love. The love that is true and real is that which has least of self, which only lives for service, which comes (like our Divine Master) not to be ministered unto, but to minister '-love that shines the brightest in the darkest days and glows with the purest warmth when all else is cold and dim. This is the love that lasts, that will weather the storms of this world, and live even beyond the grave. Ah, yes! there is a sad sound, even in the plighted troth'till death us do part '-that knell can never be quite absent from any earthly music. But listen-it is only for a moment. When the blessing is given a little further on, how do the words run? That in the world to come ye may have life everlasting.' Yes, in the happy eternity, true love will also be eternal. What God hath joined, not even death can put asunder.

And so the giving of the ring is a picture of the same truth. The ring, we are told, is an emblem of eternity (the perfect circle which has neither beginning nor ending), as also of constancy and purity. Thus one of our old poets sings,-*

'And as this round
Is nowhere found
To flaw, or else to sever,
So let our love

As endless prove,

And pure as gold for ever.'

Now a word more about this faithfulness. If you would bring a true and pure and faithful love to the husband of your choice,

* Herrick.

when you kneel before God's altar, you must be, now in your girlhood, true and pure and faithful; for remember, what your character is, that your love will be. Try, therefore, to be faithful in small things; try to form your character on the Christ-like pattern of faithfulness and truth. Do not begin half-a-dozen things and leave them all unfinished; do not try one employment or one situation after another and settle to nothing in the end. Do not eagerly promise to do some service for a friend, or make an engagement for a certain time, and then neglect or break your plighted word.

I think I see you smile, dear girls, as you read these lines, and hear you say, 'But these are such trifles!' It may be so; but then remember-and they are not my words but your Saviour's-'He that is faithful in that which is least, is faithful also in much? Depend upon it, it is by constant practice in such little things as these, that you can acquire self-control, stability, steadfastness of character; and is it not to such characters that we turn when we need help and sympathy, rather than to the changeable, butterfly friends, who only love the sunshine, and cannot brave the storm or 'teach us how to bear?'

May such characters be yours, dear girls; so shall you win love and keep it, and, better still, give it forth, freely, unselfishly, and constantly. May you shine with a steadfast light, whether in your own home or that of others; and if the blessing of a faithful love and a happy home be given you, may it be said of you in the beautiful words of the wise king, "The price of a virtuous woman is

above rubies. The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her; she will do him good and not evil all the days of his life.'

St. Michael and All Angels.

A DAYDREAM.

ATHER, dear, only six people at the

Holy Communion this morning,' said
Agnes in a voice of complaint.

Mr. Grey turned from his writing to look at his little daughter with a smile on his shrewd face: 'Well, my little girl, this time last year there were only three !'

'Such an empty church, father !' still lamented the sixteen-year-old pet of the family.

'Was it empty?—are you sure that it was not crowded ?'

'Quite sure. Yet Agnes looked puzzled by her father's serious face.

'What is to-day, Agnes ?'

'St. Michael and All Angels,' she answered promptly.

'With angels and archangels,' quoted Mr. Grey softly; the church was not empty, child, only our eyes cannot see through the thin veil which divides the seen from the unseen.'

His child's arms came round his neck as she whispered, 'I forgot; but it does seem hard to work and work, year after year, as you do, and to see so little come of it all!'

'Foolish child! it is only when we are young that we expect great things. Thank God for the things that are, and trust Him for the things that shall be. Now go and rest, or you will play the organ badly by-and-by.'

Agnes was dismissed with a quiet kiss, and went to her room soothed and humbled by her father's thankful spirit; she so reverenced and loved him that very often she was impatient to sce larger results from his hearty work, but now, casting off her little fit of discontent, she sat down to read, think, and rest.

"Thy beautiful and shining face,"--where does that line come from?" She jumped up from her low chair and took from a book-shelf a thick book full of favourite hymns and poetry which she had copied out at different times. Hastily turning over the leaves she found a hymn to a guardian angel, and softly read aloud these lines,

Thy beautiful and shining face

I see not, though so near;

The sweetness of thy soft low voice I am too deaf to hear.'

'That is what father meant,-they are round about us everywhere, it is only that our eyes are not spiritual enough to see them.'

The girl's gay young face became very thoughtful as she sat down again with her open book in her hand; by degrees the book was forgotten and Agnes was away in dreamland.

'Agnes, follow me!' said a voice, clear and soft as a silver bell. She rose to her feet and gazed with wildly-beating heart at the bright being who stood at her side. Never had she seen anyone so beautiful,-tall and clothed in pure, white garments, with a most sweet, grave countenance, clear eyes which seemed to look into her very inmost soul and gave her a curious sensation of her own utter nothingness; from his shoulders streamed rays of glorious light, taking the shape of two mighty wings.

'Fear not, Agnes; it is permitted that you should see some of the things usually hidden from mortal eyes.'

'Are you my guardian angel?' she whispered. 'Yes, my child; have no fear, my touch will make you strong.' As he spoke he touched her lightly on the eyes and on the heart, then all fear left her, only an eager expectation seized her.

Swiftly Agnes found herself in the grey old church she knew so well, and surely,—yes, there were just the little group of people she had complained of to her father. Again her guide touched her eyes, and then she saw that each kneeling figure had an angel-form at its side.

'See, Agnes! is the church empty?' asked her guide with a smile. Then, indeed, her surprise was great, for everywhere she saw angels hovering round, all about the Communion Table the air was thronged with their glorious forms, and instead of the whispered 'Gloria in Excelsis' in which she had joined that morning,

the words went up with a sound of many voices, a very shout of triumph-wave after wave of sound-till it seemed as though she heard the words echoed back from the highest heaven.

Agnes turned her eyes, dim with sudden tears, on her guide; he, with a gentle clasp of her hand, led her out of the church into the crowded street. Here, again, she saw the angel guides each walking by the soul given into their care. One woman she noticed whose angel clung closely to her side and seemed to whisper happy thoughts to her, for her face was sweet and full of peace, yet she was very, very poor. 'She looks so happy,' said Agnes. 'Yes, she has given up a night's rest to sit up with a sick man, and is now going to toil all day to get bread; she has done what she could and verily she will have her reward.'

And now they were in a crowd of people, some quarrelling, some cursing, some drunken. Their angels' fair faces were full of sadness; some had their hands clasped in anguish, sorrowing for those who knew no sorrow for themselves.

'Oh! dear angel, take me away from here, I cannot bear to see it!' cried Agnes.

'We have to bear it,-to hear our God and Master cursed, to see the bodies made in His image degraded and made lower than the dumb creatures about them.'

The angelic face grew stern, and the clear eyes flashed, so that Agnes involuntarily thought How terrible it would be to have him as an accuser at the Last Day.

'Come in here,' he said; and they passed into a small room where a mother sat with a little baby on her knee. The child's angel was so radiant that Agnes was dazzled and clung to her guide. Then she saw that the little child was dying ; the poor mother's tears were falling like rain, yet the child's angel looked intensely glad, and when its pure spirit left the little suffering body, Agnes saw that it was cradled in its guardian's arms.

'Home! home!' cried the Angel, 'home to God!' There was such ecstasy in the voice

that Agnes thrilled with a wild longing to go

too.

'Not so, Agnes,' said her guide, reading her thoughts; 'you and I must both remain here as long as the Master wills. Your sudden wish to be gone is only a passing one. If you had ever seen my Home and my Master you would know how I yearn to be back. That happy one will never be sent from heaven again; he is one of those highly favoured beings who do always behold the face of our Father.'

'He was so bright I could hardly endure to look at him,' said Agnes.

'Yes, he had only left the Master's presence a few weeks, so that the glory of heaven was still on him, and now he is safe Home for ever !'

While her guide still spoke, Agnes found that they were in a most fair and lovely garden,—she heard and saw murmuring streams, stately trees gave pleasant shade, and the songs of many birds made the air ring with sweet sounds.

'What lovely place is this?' she asked.

'This is one of the fair gardens of Paradise,' answered her guide, 'where the Master's dear little children are happy.'

As he spoke, Agnes heard an outburst of clear, childish laughter, and from under the trees danced many happy children; their hands were full of flowers, and as they ran they pelted each other with the beautiful blossoms. Lingering behind the rest, came a little creature with her arms quite laden with flowers-primroses, snowdrops, blue-bells; it seemed to Agnes that she saw every flower she had loved when a child, and over the flowers there bent such a happy, happy little face that Agnes smiled for pleasure.

'That little creature suffered and toiled on earth, Agnes; she loved flowers then, but never had any, and now, see, she can gather them for herself.'

Suddenly Agnes was aware of a mighty angel who passed swiftly by them, and to whom her guide did reverence.

'The Angel of the Passion,' said her guide,

'the mighty one who ministered to our Master in Gethsemane; sometimes he is sent to earth to succour a soul wrestling in anguish with a great temptation. We all honour and love him, for he comforted the Sinless One.'

As he ceased to speak he looked eagerly into the extreme distance, and Agnes, looking also, saw a wondrous radiance which slowly advanced towards them. The little children raised a joyful cry, 'He is coming! the Blessed One is coming! Let us run to meet Him !'

Agnes trembled exceedingly while the angel said, 'Yes, He is indeed coming, the King of Paradise is coming to visit His happy children.' 'Oh, hide me, dear angel; I am afraid !' 'Afraid! afraid, when He died for you!' Agnes still trembled, but at the same time she was filled with joyous expectation. Slowly the brightness approached them, and in the midst she saw a kingly form, most awful in its majesty, and yet the children were clasping His hand unrebuked. One little one hung back, her small face full of eager love, yet not daring to draw near; to this timid one the Master beckoned, and when she knelt before Him, behold! she was lifted up, cradled on His arm, while He smiled on the happy babe.

Agnes threw herself on her knees, and with clasped hands sobbed out, 'Oh, Master ! Master! bless me, for I love you too.'

The Master's face turned towards her, still with that wondrous smile, she felt the pressure of a hand on her bowed head . . .

.....

means.

OU are all familiar with the three letters G. F. S., but perhaps not so many of you know what C. E. T. S.

These four letters are the initials of the CHURCH OF ENGLAND TEMPERANCE SOCIETY, about which you will like to have a little information, especially as you will see that G. F. S. and C. E. T. S. ought to be on very friendly terms with each other.

The Church of England Total Abstinence Society was formed in May 1862, nearly twenty years ago, and then only admitted total abstainers. In the year 1873 a most important step was taken, and the Society was enlarged so that any persons could become members, whether they were abstainers or not. The present name was then adopted. Her Most Gracious Majesty the Queen, who in temperance as well as other Christian virtues sets so bright an example to her peo ple, became the Patron. The archbishops are the presidents, while the bishops and many well-known clergy and laymen act as vice-presidents, the chairman being Canon Ellison, one of Her Majesty's chaplains. To