At the risk of speaking of what may be quite familiar to many of the readers of help and food, I would ask them to consider with me one lovely word of surpassing value to us found in 2 Chron. 5:The temple is completed. All that vast store of riches that the beloved king David has collected has been spent in it, covering it with beauty, and filling with wealth its treasuries. The ark has been brought up from Zion and placed in its appointed position under the sheltering wings of the cherubim. Can any thing be lacking in glory, beauty, or wealth to make that temple a fit and acceptable dwelling-place for God ? Yes, something is wanting still to make it answer to God's heart as a place where He can dwell and rest. It must be filled with praise. Oh, sweet and precious word, giving us a blessed insight, as it were, into the very heart of God. For have we not a saying, as true as it is trite, " A man is known by the company he keeps." We can judge a man's character by what he finds his pleasure in, by what he voluntarily surrounds himself with. Then apply that principle to this scene. As soon as, and not until, there is one sweet sound of melody-the voice of praise and thanksgiving, with no jarring note, "as the trumpeters and singers were as one, to make one sound to be heard in praising and thanking the Lord," then God comes in His glory and says, as it were, Now I can rest. Oh, sweet and precious word, again I say ! for it tells us what God is. As long as there is one cry, one groan, one sorrow, that is the effect, or one sin that is its cause, He rests not, He cannot rest. Around Him must be full hearts-so full of bliss and joy as to overflow in song. Then, and only then, can He find a dwelling and resting-place that is suited to Him. Ah, may we not know Him by the company He keeps. Yes, He inhabits the praises of His people. Surely this scene, then, through which we are passing affords Him no rest. Sin-stained, sorrow-filled;-groans, tears, sighing, and death on every hand. " My Father worketh hitherto, and I work " is the divine word for such a scene,-a scene to which even the redeemed are still connected by their unredeemed bodies, and they groan amidst a groaning creation. But there is a temple to-day. " Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and the Spirit of God dwelleth in you?" "Ye are the temple of the living God, as God hath said, 'I will dwell among them and walk among them.' " Yes, there is one place still covered with the glory and beauty of the Lord Jesus Christ, and where the voice of harmonious, melodious praise may be heard, fitting it for His dwelling-place. It is not to be found in the old creation, but is in itself a part of that new creation where no sin is found, and consequently no sorrow can enter. Practically, then, beloved, may we not learn that we are intended to praise ? It should be the one thing that marks out all who are living stones in the Temple which He inhabits who inhabits the praises of His people. "In everything give thanks." It is suited to our God, it is His rest. But how can we in our trials, perplexities, difficulties, sorrows,-nay, failings and shortcomings, not to say sins,-how can we live in this atmosphere of praise? Surely only by recognizing, enjoying, being occupied with, that new-creation scene of which our blessed Lord is the Head, on whose perfect work it rests secure, who is Himself its one Exponent. Ah, keep the eye on Him, and the heart in the atmosphere of His love, and stripes, and stocks, and foulest dungeon, and darkest midnight, can hinder the springing up of that fountain of praise, not at all. So look forward a little to the coming Sabbath that remains for the people of God, when God's tender hand has touched every weeping eye, and the touch has dried every tear,-not merely, as here, in a few, and in them in part of their being only, but in all; and there shall be no more death, nor grief, nor cry, nor distress shall exist more. Then, and only then, shall it be said, " The tabernacle of God is with men, and He shall dwell with them." Blessed be God forever ! F. C. J.