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With this, the first sermon of Unity Pulpit for the new year, the Publisher would like to say four things. 1st. This number will be sent to all old subscrib= ers. And they will continue to be sent, unless orders to the contrary are received.

2d. Not only this, it is hoped that their present readers will be willing to contribute to the fund for their missionary distribution. Between four and five hun= dred weekly copies were given away last year for missionary work. Some hundreds more were called for, but could not be supplied for lack of means. Any one will= ing to help in this may send his contribution, in payment for one or more copies, to the Publisher.

3d. It is hoped that such of those as received them free last year, but who are able to pay for them, will do so this year. Thus, their free copy can be sent to some

new reader.

4th. Will not all who believe in these sermons, and who think that their wider distribution would do good, use their own personal influence in making them known to a still wider circle of readers?

FROM PISGAH'S TOP.

Get thee up into the top of Pisgah, and lift up thine eyes westward and northward and southward and eastward, and behold it with thine eyes.- DEUT. iii., 27.

It does not concern our purpose to-day to be critical; for it is no matter whether the story from which we take our text be historical or not. A thing may be ideally, poetically true,- true to the life, and yet never have actually happened. Many a novelist's scene may be more real, truer to life principles, and so more instructive, than much that passes under the name of history. The Old Testament is full of suggestive pictures and incidents that show us the play of human passion, the working of human motives, the successes and catastrophes that crown hope or dash endeavor. They appeal to us, as a play does, by their dramatic power; while long association makes them seem like family relics, and age has given them the softened tints, the mellowed tone, that characterize the paintings of the old

masters.

One of the most strikingly dramatic pictures in all this. ancient gallery is this one of Moses climbing to Pisgah's top in his old age, after his long wandering in the wilderness, and looking over the outlines of the Promised Land he is not to enter. He has broken the conditions of entering in; and so he may only see what he is never to possess. Others shall cross over the separating river, fight the obstacles that stand in the way, and conquer places of rest. But he, he may only look across, note all the fair outlines, and dream for a while of what might be; but his own

action has raised obstacles in his pathway over which he cannot climb.

The almanac makes our new year begin with the first of January. But, so far as our life interests are concerned, this is an arbitrary date. Our real year, our financial, social, literary, musical, artistic, scientific, ecclesiastic, family year, begins in the autumn. Our city life ebbs and runs low during the summer; but, with September, the tide turns, and sweeps toward the flood once more. Then we begin to look forward and face the possibilities of another year. Then we climb our mental heights of outlook, and survey the outlines of the dim country of Maybe.

Every new year spreads its promised land before us. Every new year, our feet climb to the top of Pisgah, and look westward and northward and southward and eastward. Every year, we lift the glass of hope to our eyes, and survey the lands we will possess, the houses we will build, the books we will write, the honors we will gain, the cosey nooks in which we will find peace. At what other time, then, is it quite so fitting that we should raise some earnest questions concerning these visions, as to what of them are noble, what ones are best worth our longing, and the conditions that attach to their possible realization?

All people who are worth anything are climbers of Pisgah and dreamers of dreams. It is only the man without any force, with no future in him, or, as Lowell says, the "dunce," who has "no use for dreams and fancies." Those who are capable of turning dreams into facts have their life-plans, which they at least try to realize. There is more hope of a man with a poor plan, even with one that is bad and dishonorable, than of him who has no plan at all. For he who schemes does, at any rate, manifest the fact that he possesses imagination and energy, and so the potency of good. But, nevertheless, inertia can only get or be in other people's way.

And, then, I know not how it may be with others, but, for my own part, I find myself growing more niggard of

my time with every passing year. These promised lands of possibility here on earth, in the case of many of us, begin perceptibly to shrink and contract their horizons. They were boundless once; but that was when we were very young, before we had run against the boundaries of hard fact or discovered any limits to our own powers. So I find myself more and more every year feeling like taking to heart the experiences of the past, and turning my endeavor into such channels as seem to promise the best results. Let me, then, ask your permission to-day to stand by your sides on Pisgah's top, and with you look over the promised land of the coming year, that lies spread. out at our feet. You each have your vision which you hope to realize as the months go by. With your consent, we will look at some of them. You will have it in your power to do a great many things that will affect your own character and career as well as the characters and careers of others. None of these things ought to be done without earnest thought and the careful forecasting of results that cannot be taken back. Let us, then, think a little.

One of our visions, at any rate, is quite sure to be that of increasing prosperity. The merchant will enlarge his store, expand the volume of his trade, make firm his grasp on new markets, home or foreign, and so add to his accumulation. The farmer will buy the new piece of land he has long desired, or he will bring the new field under cultivation, or he will try to experiment with other crops that promise better results than those he has so far attained. The mechanic will be able this year to get possession of the snug little home of his own that he has been striving for so long; and the prosperous man in the unfashionable part of the town will get into his new house on the new street, where his pride will no longer be hurt by thinking that men, with no more money than he, are looking down upon him. The clerk will take one more step toward a partnership; and the poor working-girl will get an increase in her wages. Yes: all of us will, if we can, get a little more money

this year. And why not? Money is a tremendous power. Nothing else seems, by so direct and immediate a road, to lead to such desirable results. The man with money appears to command the world. It is the Aladdin's lamp, whose magic can call up a thousand slaves at will. All men seem to be the friends of him who possesses it. The world is his oyster, that he with golden knife may open. Gold is a wonderful bud; and, when it opens, its blossoms are pleasures, houses, lands, books, pictures, carriages, flattery, travel, and all the nameless delights of every sense. And, then, it has in it the potency of so much good. Civilization were impossible without it. One can give so much happiness by its means; one can help so many who only need a little timely and generous assistance to turn the scales of struggle to grand success; one can earn the tearful gratitude of poverty, and hasten the lingering reforms to triumph,if one only has gold!

But not all of us can turn these golden visions into reality. This land of promise is not large enough to furnish even standing room for one-half of those who climb to Pisgah's top, to get a glimpse of the alluring prospect.

And, then, who knows?—it is hard for us to admit it in our own cases, even though we confess to general truth, -perhaps we may look too much on this vision. Money, looked at by itself, is neither good nor bad: it is only power. But most people are not fit to be trusted with overmuch power. How many of those who have it use it wisely, in the judgment of those not interested and biassed? Of course, we think we would; but, possibly, God knows better than to trust us.

Look about you. Here is a man who grasped too eagerly after gold, and it ended in a lonely suicide that the trees on the hillside tried in vain to cover up. Another reached for it, and see! his hands are red; and it means murder. Another walks the earth like other men; but his heart is turned to stone. Still another is made cruel or bitter or broken in hope. He has missed that, and now it is too late

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