test, and the most childlike reign as kings.

_This is the key to every act of daily cleansing_.--We have been
washed. Once, definitely, and irrevocably, we have been bathed in the
crimson tide that flows from Calvary. But we need a daily cleansing.
Our feet become soiled with the dust of life's highways; our hands
grimy, as our linen beneath the rain of filth in a great city; our lips
are fouled, as the white doorstep of the house, by the incessant throng
of idle, unseemly and fretful words; our hearts cannot keep unsoiled
the stainless robes with which we pass from the closet at morning
prime. Constantly we need to repair to the Laver to be washed. But do
we always realize how much each act of confession, on our part,
involves from Christ, on His? Whatever important work He may at that
moment have on hand; whatever directions He may be giving to the
loftiest angels for the fulfillment of His purposes; however pressing
the concerns of the Church or the universe upon His broad shoulders, He
must needs turn from all these to do a work He will not delegate.
Again He stoops from the throne, and girds Himself with a towel, and,
in all lowliness, endeavors to remove from thee and me the strain which
His love dare not pass over. He never loses the print of the nail; He
never forgets Calvary and the blood; He never spends one hour without
stooping to do the most menial work of cleansing filthy souls. And it
is because of this humility He sits on the Throne and wields the
sceptre over hearts and worlds.

_This is the key to our ministry to each other_.--I have often thought
that we do not often enough wash one another's feet. We are conscious
of the imperfections which mar the characters of those around us. We
are content to note, criticise, and learn them. We dare not attempt to
remove them. This failure arises partly because we do not love with a
love like Christ's--a love which will brave resentment, annoyance,
rebuke, in its quest,--and partly because we are not willing to stoop
low enough.

None can remove the mote of another, so long as the beam is left in the
eye, and the sin unjudged in the life, None can cleanse the stain, who
is not willing to take the form of a servant, and go down with bare
knees upon the floor. None is able to restore those that are overtaken
in a fault, who do not count themselves the chief of sinners and the
least of saints.

We need more of this lowly, loving spirit: not so sensi