affairs? We had thought that they were our friends', as well as our
own. We had supposed that our griefs were theirs also, but when
Grethsemane comes into our lives, and we writhe and twist among the
gnarled and knotted roots, when we turn with blanched, tear-sprinkled
faces to our chosen James and trusted Peter and beloved John to gasp in
their ears the story of our agony, we hear only the heavy breathing of
sound sleepers.

COLD, HARSH FACT.

If there is a sharper pang than this, man's heart has not found it. We
are by nature social beings. We crave fellowship and love and sympathy,
and it is so hard for us to realize that our choicest friends are
really "asleep" to our heart cries and heart interests. The cold, harsh
fact can be believed but slowly. Even the Lord seemed to find it hard
to convince His own heart that the John who had leaned at supper upon
His breast, was resting while his Master was sweating blood. He prayed
awhile and then, as if to see whether it was indeed true that no one
watched to help Him, "He came and found them sleeping." Sad, cruel
disappointment, and yet is it so rare that any one of us has not felt
its sadness and cruelty?

AN ANGEL.

But while men forgot the Nazarene and His troubles, Grod did not
forget. The Father was not negligent nor careless. "There appeared an
angel unto him from heaven strengthening him." The night was not too
dark for the angel to find Jesus, and the night of our troubles is
never too thick and black for the angels to find us. The paths of "the
Garden" may be grown up in weeds, the rough, scabeous limbs of the
trees may hang close to the ground, the driving clouds may hide the
moon and stars, but some celestial messenger will search us out and
find us.

IN MANY FORMS.

God has many angels, and they come in many forms. Sometimes the
solitary sufferer sees only a tiny flower, but love is in the flower,
and he knows he is not utterly forgotten. It may be only an hand clasp,
but warmth and sympathy are in it, and behold it is straightway "an
angel strengthening him." Perchance it is a letter with a foreign
postmark, but in it is nectar and ambrosia for a drooping spirit. Or
the angel may come enveloped in a text of Scripture or flying on the
wings of the music of some old hymn, such as:

"Fear not! I am with thee.
Oh, be not dismayed,
For I am thy God!
I will still give thee aid."

In whatever role the angel may come, God sent him, a