ANOTHER year of "Service for the King" has

reached its close, and His servants are girding their loins, and looking forward to fresh toil in the year on which they are entering. Truly He is a Master worthy of our service-would that our service were worthy of such a Master. We think of how His servants serve Him in a brighter world, and often pray that His will may be done on earth as it is in Heaven; and yet how few of us are there who do not feel humbled as we look back and discern how far our conduct has come short even of our own ideal of what true service ought to be. Mere regrets, however, at past defects and failures will profit us but little; it will be much more to the purpose to remember that the past is full of instruction for the present, and that we may learn even by our falls. Ere we start forth once more on our life's journey, with an honest desire to serve our King as He should be served, it may prove helpful to us if we spend a few moments at the beginning of the year in examining the character of the service which we are in the habit of offering to Him; and if we comply with an ancient word of friendly counsel and proceed for a little scason to "consider our ways."

The brief but searching direction given of old by the Prophet Haggai to his countrymen, recently returned from the Babylonish captivity, is, perhaps, too frequently regarded only in the light of a solemn reproof to hollow-hearted hypocrisy and barren profession. To many of those who heard it for the first time, no doubt it did convey such a sense, but the direction is one that we all need to have impressed upon us, and no time can be more suitable for the discharge of this duty than that which marks the commencement of another period of our brief livesanother hour in our day of toil. We all of us, in accordance with the inexorable law of habit, are disposed to fall into certain "ways" of thinking, praying, speaking, acting, labouring, suffering; and when the way has become familiar to us, we pursue it almost without a thought, as mechanically as the postman or policeman in our streets takes the customary turning, and covers the appointed "beat." If our way be indeed the best possible one that can be selected, it is

not a thing to be regretted that we should pursue it almost involuntarily, and without reflection; but if it be either a bad way or an indifferent way, or a way capable of very considerable improvement, it will at once be manifest that grave injury to ourselves and to our work may be incurred by a want of careful consideration. Besides this, we have to bear in mind the possibility of deterioration in the quality of our life, and of our work, even when we are persuaded that through God's mercy these are, in our case, of the right kind. Our way may be the right way, and yet we may be making very poor progress in it; our theory may be perfect, and yet our practice most defective, and our experience altogether unsatisfactory.

In calling special attention to the importance of complying, from time to time, with the prophet's direction, it may be prudent to point out that there is an error and a danger to be guarded against here on either side. It is possible to proceed to such lengths in this process of considering our ways, as that in the end we shall find ourselves with scarcely anything deserving the name of "a way" to consider. We tread the same unfortunate spot so often in the spirit of morbid introspection, that the way becomes little better than a bog, in which we stick fast in deep mire, and allow life, with all its grand opportunities, to pass away while we waste our energies in refinements of self-torturing scrutiny-in weighing our motives and analysing our desires, or in criticising our own failures and bewailing our incompetence. This is disease, and should be guarded against, but that is no reason why we should rush into the opposite extreme, and go on from day to day without taking a look into the mirror of truth, and endeavouring to discover what manner of men we are, and what manner of life we are leading. We have an excellent example set us, as Christians, by the men of science, to whose wonderful inventions our attention is, from time to time, attracted. We observe that, from year to year, they never seem tired of improving on their own inventions. They are by no means satisfied with the discovery of a new principle, or fact, in nature; they must needs proceed with painstaking and elaborate investigation, until they feel themselves in a position to turn the discovery to the

best possible account. No sooner is such a thing as the electric light, or the telephone discovered, than men set to work, with most praiseworthy perseverance to turn the discovery to good practical use; and if this course were not pursued, we should not derive onetenth part of the benefit from skilful inventions which now we do. What a contrast would be presented between Stephenson's first famous engine, the "Glowworm," and a modern locomotive, yet the principle is the same in both pieces of mechanism. The genius of one man may discover a great fact, or principle, as the case may be, but the patient care and thought of many is needed to get all that can be got out of it.

In religion we are indebted to one great Revealer, but while He has left us grand principles and facts on which to rest the fabric of a holy and a useful life, it remains for us to turn these discoveries to the best possible account, and it is well for us to consider from time to time, whether or not we are doing so. We cannot be right in allowing ourselves to be satisfied with a stereotyped form of experience, we are bound to hope and expect that each year's life and each year's work shall be a definite improvement on the last; and this they will be if we carefully "consider our ways," endeavouring by God's help to discover all the secret causes of failure in both, and when discovered, humbly trusting Him to deliver us from them.

Speaking now more particularly of Christian work, how much need there is from time to time thoroughly to overhaul (if we may be allowed the phrase) and submit to a rigorous criticism, our accustomed modes of operation. Well would it be for the Church and for the world, if this were more frequently done, and well for those who did it. A minister of the Gospel, for example, finds that his preaching does not seem to produce the effect that it should. How much may be gained if he will sit down for a little quiet reflection, and endeavour to put himself in the place of one of his own flock, and to ask himself whether he really thinks that he himself would be likely to be much impressed or benefited by such a ministry as his own. Or, perhaps, one of our deaconesses finds that her work does not tell on those amongst whom she spends her time and labour, how much she may learn by considering whether she goes to work in the wisest way, or whether she has fallen almost unconsciously into an ineffective and unskilful habit of work. Our object is not to get through so much work, but to do as much good as we can, and this object we can only attain by a careful and frequently repeated examination of the means we employ, and of our manner of employing them. We are serv

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ing a Master who loves to reward His faithful servants, and who shall say how much he can effect by us when His mighty power has free course within us, but we have no right to offer Him anything short of our very best; the blind and the lame are not to be brought to His altar, nor can we confidently claim a blessing for that labour, which has cost us little or nothing in the preparation and adaptation of means to the end.

As we look round us at Mildmay, we may encourage ourselves by contemplating the outward monuments and tokens of what the Lord can do by His servants when their ways are in harmony with His mind. If one, whose memory is ever dear to us all, had been told by some prophetic utterance just before he left Barnet, what the Lord would do by him in nine short years, probably he would hardly have been able to give credence to the revelation. But he had considered his ways and the ways of the Church of Christ throughout the land; and so he was led to the conclusion that an outward and tangible answer needed to be returned to an unbelieving world, that refused to recognize the inward union, but loved to enlarge upon the outward diversities of those who are Christians indeed; and so he went up to the mountain and brought wood, and built a house in which surely God Himself has from time to time found pleasure, and where He has been glorified, a place in which He has given more and more abundantly His own peace amidst the theological conflicts and squabbles of the time. As we write, there rises up before us the recollection of the day of small things, and we can well recall with how much prayer and quiet waiting upon God's leadership every forward step was taken, and so the thing grew from slender beginnings until it has become a name and a praise in the eyes of all.

It is not granted to each of us to be a William Pennefather, but it may be granted to each of us in our vocation and ministry, to do what God calls on us to do efficiently and well; and if such has not been the character of our work, we may well inquire, with so bright an example before us, whether we are following in the same way in which God led him, or whether our ways are such as lead so many from that land of realized promise, in which it is the privilege of the true Christian to dwell.

Not to depress, but in order to produce true and permanent encouragement, were these words originally spoken; and this, too, is our object in referring to them. We wish the many workers at Mildmay and elsewhere, into whose hands these words of New Year's

greeting may fall, a hearty God-speed, as they enter upon the toil of another year ; and if these suggestions should lead any to spend a little time on the threshold of the New Year, in considering their ways, may this exercise have the effect of making them more efficient, and therefore happier in their work than ever heretofore. One other remark we would venture to

address to the general reader. Is there not good reason for saying that Mildmay Park, with its numerous and important institutions, has claims perhaps second to none, upon the consideration of the earnest and the spiritually-minded throughout the land. Let us consider our ways, whether it would not be possible by a little self-denial and exertion to lighten to a very

great extent the heavy burden of responsibility and care which rests at present on those whom God has so greatly blessed in carrying on His work there. Do we well in allowing a work which we all recognize as of such true value and immense importance to be crippled and injured for want of sufficient support? Perhaps one of the fruits of a little careful consideration of our ways, may be the presentation of free-will offerings of no small amount to the treasury of the Lord in this behalf. But whatever form our conclusions may take, God grant that each of us as we start on the New Year fresh from such a consideration of our ways, may hear the whisper of a Father's love in our heart," From this day will I bless you.”

HAT is Mildmay?

WH

The question reached us across a pleasant tea-table in the West of England, during the past summer, and brought us for the moment to a stand, partly from surprise, and partly from uncertainty how to reply.

"Do you really not know?" we said, at length; for Mr. H-- was a Christian worker of some experience, and it was difficult to imagine that what filled so large a space on one's own mental horizon should have no place whatever on his! "Of course, I know that Conferences are held there," was the answer; "but what besides, what do they do at Mildmay, and what is it ?"

There was a touch of impatience in the voice that amused us. Evidently Mildmay had failed to explain itself as the public had a right to expect; and the mystery of what went on there when no Conference existed to set it in motion-and the still greater mystery of what became of the thousands of pounds it contrived to dispose of annually-were certainly points that required explanation.

Now, our friend, Mr. H- was no novice in the field of Christian work, and he had, morcover, resided for at least thirty years within easy reach of the Metropolis he was acquainted, as we afterwards found, with various London Institutions-Miss Macpherson's Home of Industry, the East-End Training Institute, and Dr. Barnardo's Juvenile Mission; but Mildmay was an enigma to him!

How was this to be accounted for?

In two ways, perhaps. First, because Mildmay, as the common meeting-ground for Christian workers

from all sections of the Church, has always set forth the claims of others rather than its own; and secondly because no printed report, no regularly-issued account of its work, has ever been published. It is true that many scattered notices have appeared at different times and in various forms; but even these have reached but a limited circle, and been read for the most part by those who already knew something of the facts, or were interested in the workers.

Yet, in thinking over the little incident narrated above, and remembering the thousands of dear fellowChristians, to whom, as to our Hampshire friend, Mildmay is a familiar name, and nothing more-and of the still larger number to whom it is not even that; who never heard of the place or the work-we could not help feeling how much of precious sympathy and prayer and co-operation is lost to us, just because there has been somewhere a "missing link.”

Will our little Magazine supply that “link?”

It is an attempt to do so, at least. It is intended, on the one hand, to carry monthly tidings of the work to those who are already friends of Mildmay; and on the other, to knock at the doors of the friends that are to be (we hope), but who as yet are strangers only.

And may we say here, that the present series of "Mildmay Papers," has been taken in hand with special reference to this latter class? They are NOT addressed to the valued friends of years, but to those who know little or nothing about us, and would like to be told everything "from the beginning."

But that "beginning " lies a long distance behind us; and before we turn and take our stand there, you will like, perhaps, to give a hasty glance round

and said. Thus much for the outward aspect of Mildmay just a few words now, in passing, as to the

CHARACTER OF THE WORK.

If our readers will try to imagine one of the Moravian Institutions abroad, taken up bodily, and dropped down with all its dependencies, in an every day London suburb; and imagine, further, that the various buildings-hospitals, mission room, orphanage, training houses, and the like-finding no room wherein to dispose themselves around their proper centre, ending by making the best of circumstances and settling down quietly in adjacent streets, one here and one there, as the exigencies of the case permitted-they will gain a sufficiently correct idea as to what" Mildmay" means.

Of course, the illustration is imperfect; the differences must be many, between a German establishment and an English institution; but the underlying principle is the same-an organization, combining various forms of Christian activity-emanating from one centre, carried on by a body of trained workers, and under the direction of one guiding mind.

In the case of Mildmay, the ramifications are perhaps more numerous; since in addition to the Mission agencies of all sorts, located at the centre houses, there are various Mission stations planted out in many of the London parishes, where the same general plans are reproduced in miniature and also that smal branch institutions have been established in other parts of England.

We hope in some future paper, to take up in detail the various departments of Mildmay work, and give our friends a peep here and there "behind the scenes." But for the present, the slight outline sketch given above will suffice.

And now turning away from Mildmay as it is, we are going to carry our readers back some thirty or forty years, and show them Mildmay as it was.

We want to tell them how the first seed was sown, and how the Hand of God Himself fostered and sheltered the tiny plant in its upspringing; and how that same Hand has been over it for good ever since, through the long years that have intervened.

THE FIRST SEED SOWN.

A London brickfield lies before us-and anything more dreary than is expressed by those words, you must go to the "Black Country," or the Cornish mining districts to find. The wide desolate area, scattered over at intervals with brick-kilns and cut up by cartwheels; the clay-besmeared form of the workmen, the unfinished streets and houses that loom in the distance, and the border land between, where heaps of refuse are allowed to collect, and dirty children find a congenial playground-such a scene may be found in many a London district still, and such a scene had succeeded to the beautiful park previously known by the friends of the Mildmay family.

Public-houses, of course, abounded, and drunkenness and blasphemy were terribly rife. Indeed, on one spot, near which the "Iron Room" of early Conference days now stands, we have heard it said, that a guard of five policemen was often stationed to keep order among the drunken and quarrelsome crew.

There resided on the outskirts of Stoke Newington about this time, an aged Missionary, who had left the shores of Africa a few years before, to return to his native land. John Campbell's soul had often been stirred within him by the wickedness and depravity that overflowed the district adjacent to his home; and his evening walks were frequently directed to some lonely spot, where in quiet communion with God, he could plead for mercy on the benighted neighbourhood.

Looking back to those days, we seem to see the figure of the aged Christian passing with saddened and averted face the noisy throng and scenes of godless merriment, to take his evening walk over the deserted brickfield, and it is a remarkable fact that it should have been laid on the heart of this good old man, for a lengthened period, to wrestle earnestly with God that a special blessing might in future years descend on the spot where Satan then seemed to hold undisputed sway. It was thus the first seed was sown by prayer. That prayer was answered to the letter, and is being answered still; but a long interval lay between the dropping of the tiny seed by the hand of faith, and the first appearing of the green blade, and then of the full corn in the ear.

HOW THE ANSWER CAME.

About ten miles to the north of London is a quiet country place, half village, half town, which in the old coaching days, was the first stage on the Great Northern Road. But railway travelling, which has so changed the face of the country, has left Barnet, like many other towns, comparatively stagnant and deserted. An ivycovered church, built on the outskirts of the town, with its parsonage and schoolhouse, stands apart in the Glebe meadow, and it is with these chiefly that our narrative has to do.

It is December 1852, and the newly appointed Vicar and his wife have just settled down in their quiet home, after parting from an attached congregation and large circle of friends at Aylesbury. Who could have supposed that this "appointment" was the first link in the answer to John Campbell's prayers; or that when on the following Sunday, the Rev. William Pennefather stood up for the first time in the pulpit of Christ Church, that here was the instrument chosen by God to fulfil them; or, that Barnet was to be the nursery ground for Mildmay; the seed-plot where should be sown the tender "beginnings" that, transplanted later to the London brickfield, were to transform that spiritual wilderness into a "garden of the Lord?" Yet so it was. M. F. G.

(To be continued.)