men who tire ofttimes of the routine of office, or store, or mill, or
farm. There comes to most of us, at times, the feeling that what we
have to do day after day is not worthy of us. We have had glimpses, or
brief experiences, of life in its higher revealings. It may have been
a companionship for a season with one above us in experience or
attainment, that has lifted us up for a little time into exalted
thoughts and feelings, after which it is hard to come back again to the
old plodding round, and to the old, uninteresting companionships. It
may have been a visit to some place or to some home, with
opportunities, refinements, inspirations, privileges, above those which
we can have in our own narrower surroundings and plainer home and less
congenial intimacies.

Or our circumstances may have been rudely changed by some providence
that has broken in upon our happy life. It may have been a death that
cut off the income, or a reverse in business that swept away a fortune,
and luxury and ease and the material refinements and elegances of
wealth have to be exchanged for toil and plain circumstances and a
humbler home. There are few sorer tests of character than such changes
as these bring with them. The first thought always is: "How can I go
to this dreary life, these hard tasks, this painful drudgery, this
weary plodding, after having enjoyed so long the comforts and
refinements of my old happy state?"

In such cases immeasurable comfort may be found in this appearance of
the risen Christ that morning on the shore. The disciples took up
their dull old work because it was necessary, and was their plain duty
for the time; and there was Jesus waiting to greet them and bless them.
Accept your hard tasks, and do them cheerfully, no matter how irksome
they appear, and Christ will reveal himself to you in them. Be sure
that he will never come to you when you are avoiding any tasks, when
you are withholding your hand from any duty, or when you are fretting
and discontented over any circumstances or conditions of your lot.
There are no visions of the Christ for idle dreamers or for unhappy
shirkers.

Suppose you have come back, like the disciples, from times of privilege
and exaltation, and find yourself face to face once more with an old
life which seems now unworthy of you; yet for the time your duty is
clear, and if you would have a vision of Christ, you must take up the
duty with gladness. Suppose that your home-li