ship does not show to the best advantage in workshops. The din
and whirl of machinery confuse us. We need to see the wonderful engine
in actual operation, the beautiful ornament fitly placed, before we can
decide finally upon its character. The churches have been the workshops
of Christianity. There it has been received, fused, hammered, polished,
fashioned for all human needs; but nothing less than the whole world is
the true theatre of its activity. Not what it has done for the Church,
but what it has done, is doing, and purposes to do for humanity, is the
measure of its merit. Not upon the mitre of the priest, but upon the
bells of the horses, is the millennial day to see inscribed "Holiness
unto the Lord!"

Since, then, the kingdom of God cometh not with observation, we need not
look for fearful sights and great signs in the heavens. They are but
false prophets who cry, "Lo, here!" or "Lo, there!" when the still,
small voice is whispering all the while, "The kingdom of God is within
you," Yes, within this framework of society, in the midst of this busy,
trivial, daily life, which seems so full of small cares and selfish
seeking, the Divine Spirit lives and works, and will yet raise it to the
heights of heavenly fellowship. It breathes in the thousand methods
devised by ingenuity to lighten the burdens of labor, by benevolence to
soothe away the bitterness of sorrow, by taste to beautify the homes of
poverty. The little photograph leaves that flutter down into every
household in the land are a great cloud of witnesses showing us that
science is but the handmaid of God, whose service is to bear to all the
blessings once reserved for a class. In the old time it was only the few
who could fix for future years the beloved features of a friend. Now
every fond mother may transcribe from birthday to birthday the face of
her darling, to note its beautiful changes, and every lowliest bride
preserve for her children's children the bloom of her budding youth.

The religious world has hardly learned to look for its millennium in
the horsecars. Nevertheless, its signs are there, not to be mistaken.
The poor sewing-woman feels their presence, if she does not trace them
to their source. The humble invalid knows them, the domestic drudge, the
ailing, puny child, the swart and stalwart workman, who ride their one
or ten miles as swiftly and smoothly as a millionaire, and are set down
at shop or home, or among the freshness and fragra