ciations cling, no thoughts of
battles fought and victories won, or of defeats as glorious as
victories. God sees them where we do not. The highest tower may be
more unfinished than the lowest to him."

We must not forget the truth of this last sentence. There are, lives
which to our eyes seem only to have been begun and then abandoned,
which to God's eyes are still rising into more and more graceful
beauty. Here is one who began his life-work with all the ardor of
youth and all the enthusiasm of a consecrated spirit. For a time his
hand never tired, his energy never slackened. Friends expected great
things from him. Then his health gave way. The diligent hand lies
idle and waiting now. His enthusiasm no more drives him afield. His
work lies unfinished.

"What a pity!" men say. But wait! He has not left an unfinished
life-work as God sees it. He is resting in submission at the Master's
feet and is growing meanwhile as a Christian. The spiritual temple in
his soul is rising slowly in the silence. Every day is adding
something to the beauty of his character, as he learns the lessons of
patience, confidence, peace, joy, love. His building at the last will
be more beautiful than if he had been permitted to toil on through many
busy years, carrying out his own plans. He is fulfilling God's purpose
for his life.

We must not measure spiritual building by earthly standards. Where the
heart remains loyal and true to Christ; where the cross of suffering is
taken up cheerfully and borne sweetly; where the spirit is obedient
though the hands lie folded and the feet must be still, the temple
rises continually toward finished beauty.

Or here is one who dies in early youth. There was great promise in the
beautiful life. Affection had reared for it a noble fabric of hope.
Perhaps the beauty had begun to shine out in the face, and the hands
had begun to show their skill. Then death came and all the fair hopes
were folded away. The visions of loveliness and the dreams of noble
attainments and achievements lay like withered flowers upon the grave.
An unfinished life! friends cry in their disappointment and sorrow. So
it seems, surely, to love's eyes, from the earth-side. But so it is
not, as God's eye looks upon it. There is nothing unfinished that
fulfils the divine plan. God cuts off no young life till its earthly
work is done. Then the soul-building which began here and seemed to be
interrupted by deat