principle. That in turn means the maintenance of the States and of local selfgovernment and the forbidding of a highly centralized bureaucracy to spy upon and control the business activities and the private life of the people. Destroy the federal principle and you destroy America by substituting something else and something quite different for it.

II. The erection of a government with definite and limited powers, and the marking off of the field of civil liberty into which government may not enter. This was an entirely new departure in the history of government. Usually in previous times men have retained their liberties either by grace of government or by contending for them with display of force. In the Constitution of the United States, however, the field of government was defined on the one hand and field of liberty on the other. The American government was refused power by the people to enter upon or to interfere with the field of liberty. The field of liberty is set out in the first ten amendments to the Constitution, popularly known as the Bill of Rights. In the Constitutional Convention there were many who felt that the field of liberty was so well understood that it was not necessary to define it in the Constitution, but when the Constitution went before the people of the several States for ratification by their conventions it was speedily made apparent that the people wished the field of liberty to be carefully defined. For this reason the first ten amendments were formulated, submitted and quickly ratified, thereby perfecting the Constitution itself. It is clear, then, that in America we do not derive our civil and political liberties from government but that one main purpose in establishing our government was to protect and defend the civil liberties that we already had. This is fundamental American doctrine. America would change its nature if this position were surrendered. With us government is the servant of the people for definite purposes, and is in no sense their master. When a famous English writer stated that he had examined the Ameriican Constitution with care and could not discover whereabouts in it sovereignty was located we were not surprized. The

reason he could not find sovereignty in the Constitution is that sovereignty is not there. The sovereignty was carefully retained by the people who made the Constitution. What they confided to the executive, the legislative, and the judicial departments of the government was in no sense sovereignty, but only specific governmental functions and duties. This is the essence of Americanism. III. The setting up of an authority, judicial in character, to make certain that the government does not at any time or in any wise overstep the limits placed upon it by the Constitution. The Supreme Court of the United States is unique in constitutional history, and it marks America's most original and most progressive contribution to free govern ment. It is the function of this court, as of its subordinate courts, not only to do justice between man and man, and to pass upon issues arising between States, but also to protect the individual from invasion of his civil liberties by the executive or the legislative departments of the government. The Supreme Court applies the test of fundamental American principles to passing phases of American opinion and to legislative acts taken in contravention or in violation of those fundamental principles. The notion sometimes finds expression that in overturning a legislative act on the ground of its unconstitutionality the Supreme Court is usurping power and is defying the popular will. The truth is exactly opposite. In so doing, the Supreme Court is voicing and interpreting the popular will and contrasting it with popular prejudices and popular passions. It is speak ing with the full force and authority of the underlying convictions of the American people, present as well as past. Without this judicial protection there would be nothing to stand between the citi zen and the invasion of the civil liberties that were reserved to him when the Constitution was made, except force, which means either war

or revolution.

The protection of private rights and of the judicial powers marks the longest advance yet taken by any people. It is in full consciousness of this fact that the American people, with their own experience of 130 years before them, are long

of time” of which Goethe speaks, man sits as the weaver. Every one is weaving something. Whether it will be fair and beautiful or of little value and delight will depend on the use to which we put the materials that have been entrusted to us, and whether or not we have followed the design. This fact is indisputable. There is a design for the tapestry of life. That design is the work of the great Craftsman-God. And for him should the weaver work! But we have to admit this. When we are beset by the perplexing providences of life, we sometimes question that design and its reality. We see no clear purpose to guide us, no meaning in the design we are set to follow. Yet the fact that no meaning is discernible for the moment does not make such meaning impossible, nor does it prohibit a purpose of good. If the scientist has made faith easier in one direction more than another it is surely by the emphasis he has given to the laws of the universe. All life is subject to law. He postulates a designer, even tho he may not clearly trace the design in some of the discoveries he has made. And we hold that it is not an unfair conclusion to draw that if, in the lower forms of life, the evidence of a Designer is seen, then for man, who is the crown of creation, there is an ordered life intended.

Moreover, the heart of humanity confirms the fact. We admit that in dark hours we see no plan, no purpose. Yet, in the brightness of prosperity, in the delight we find in some of the things we have to do, in the fair friendships and pure joys that are ours, we are not slow to affirm that God is good, and all his ways are in truth and uprightness. What, then, does this mean? That we are prepared to admit a design when the bright colors are set for our use, but that there is no purpose possible when the somber shades are to hand? That a design is there for us to follow when we have the pleasant to face, and none when for us there comes sorrow or loss? For the working out of the best we know, for a life according to the pattern, we are responsible. If not, then the divine idea is a delusion, and the inward monitor is at fault. That can not be! Man is responsible for the following of the design.

Nor is that all. Man is responsible for the way in which he works out the design of which we have been speaking. Of course, we have to admit that the design is not the

same in every case. Every life differs just as do the different tapestries. Of the latter, one may depict a scene from history, or a landscape, or it may be a study in still life. In some the brighter colors predominate, with here and there a thread of gold, while in others the colors may be more somber or subdued. All will depend on the purpose of the artist, upon the idea of the designer. And one life may seem to have a larger proportion of the fairer or more beautiful shades. But tho that is true, this is equally true. The designs may vary, but the workmanship does not. Whether the colors be bright or dark, whether the design be romantic or prosaic, the same careful weaving, the same delicate adjustment of threads, perfect and patient handling of materials, are necessary if the work is to reach the high standard required. And whatever the nature of the subject, the work itself can not vary without the whole suffering in quality. Faulty threads, unskilful handling, careless following of the pattern even to the merest detail, will all mar the finished product, and detract both from its beauty and its worth.

Is not the same thing true of the fabric of the soul? Much of it is according to the design, in that it bears some resemblance to it; but how far does it fall below standard! Inconsistencies like faulty threads, foolish habits that are like blemishes in the weaving, are abundant. And a little more thought or care, together with more watchfulness or prayer, would have avoided them. This is just what Henry Ward Beecher says: "He who is false to present duty breaks a thread in the loom, and he will find the flaw when he may have forgotten the cause." We often try in rough haste to do that which needs care. We attempt to bring out some of the most delicate parts of the pattern without the requisite patience. And then, because we are weary, or because the desired colors are not to hand, we throw down the shuttle in despair. Well need the poet say:

Because I was impatient, would not wait, But thrust my impious hands across Thy threads,

And marred the pattern drawn out for my life,

O Lord, I do repent!

We may now turn to the materials with which the weaver works. There is the warp

And wherever

and also the woof. The warp of our life's tapestry seems to be set by the hand of Providence. In it we find some of our limitations. One is not so foolish as to assert that the same kind of tapestry is possible in every case. There are serious limitations in the life of each of us that it would be folly to ignore. And for these some allow. ance must be made. Here is one factor. Environment counts in the production of our life-work. As you sit at your loom you can not but think sometimes of the place in which you have been set to work, or of the warp which is to be the basis of your work. Why is it that you have to toil in such uncongenial surroundings? There is a far better chance given to this one or that. But where you have been set all is so difficult. Anything like fine work seems out of the question. But God set up the loom of your life, as well as that of the other man of whom you have been envious. it may be, provided that it is not the direct result of your own folly, but of his ordering, God knows where you weave, and under what disabilities. Moreover, he has traced upon those warp-strings the design you in outline see, and which you have been set to work out. It is his choice, not yours. That is the design that he wants from your loom. He has given the design, and he has set up the loom. It is for you to do your best. Wherever he bids you weave, in the factory of daily duty, or on the quieter loom of the home, in public or in private, you can not fail if you labor with fidelity and with diligence at the divinely appointed task. God does more than set up the warp-strings, and give us the design we are to follow. He gives us, too, the materials with which we are to weave. What a variety is there presented to the eye! With some of our friends the brighter colors seem to predominate. As we look at the materials with which they work, we can not but feel that they have a chance that is denied us. They have fair hues that make weaving not only comparatively easy, but delightful. But our shuttles are wound with threads that are both dark and displeasing to the eye. Has God dealt quite fairly with us? It would seem that for us nothing but the impossible has been reserved. Dull greens, dead browns, gloomy grays-what can be done with all these somber shades? Even if we do not complain, we can not but feel how utterly unsuitable

is the material for the task we have in hand. It is bad enough to feel that we are lacking in the necessary skill, but to see that the material with which we are called to work is not suitable for the tapestry expected of us, is it not disheartening? Look at the threads of life! Here are threads of hard struggles against temptation, and others of broken hopes or unfulfilled prospects. Here are the somber shades caused by another's sin, or the dark colors of sickness, suffering, sorrow. Here poverty, shattered nerves, enfeebled health have all to be woven into the fabric, while only a very small proportion of the brighter colors of gladness of heart, of hope and cheer, are available. And all the while, time is ever beside our loom, urging us pitilessly on with our task, "Weave, weave, the web of thy life! shears are at hand!" Our hearts are anxious. Through them runs the haunting message, "He will cut me off from the loom." Will it be before I have produced aught? Will it be before I have used up the darker shades and have been able to run in some brighter threads to give some relief and beauty to my tapestry? Or will the dread shears come before, out of this sorry assortment of gloom and gladness, I have wrought anything of worth? Shakespeare spoke truly when he said:

The

The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, Good and ill together.

But of this the Christian can rest assured. The materials that God sends to us in life -the varied experiences through which we have all to pass-are not useless. They may seem inadequate to us. It may appear a hopeless task to reproduce with them the design of the divine intention. But if we toil on with brave hearts the meaning of much that we now have to do in faith will one day be made clear.

Our

There is another phase of our subject that is full of help. It is that the worker is not left to labor alone, but has the assurance of the aid of the Master-worker himself. This comes to him as an inspiration. fathers used to speak of "the finished work of Christ." It was primarily a theological term. But there is another side to it which is full of meaning when brought to bear on the work we are doing as weavers of the fabric of the soul. Let us turn once more to that gallery in the Gobelin factory. There

are to be seen some of the most wonderful productions ever lifted from the looms. Of every design, of all sizes, of a bewildering variety of color schemes, they are all products of the weavers there. They are the finished work. There was a time when they did not exist, except as raw material. Doubtless it was with much trepidation that the men on whose looms they were woven, essayed their task. But they plied their shuttles. And as the work went on, beauty and meaning grew under their skilful touch. And now they hang for the beholder to admire.

They are the finished products of the looms. But, you will say, those perfect patterns would have a most depressing effect on the novice, who was all too conscious of his lack of skill! Granted. But, as he goes on with his own tapestry, and as his skill increases, he will be inspired by what a master craftsman has done. Many a time he will lift his eyes from his own poor work to the finished work of the master-hand. And, as he notes the perfection of the detail, the choice blending of the colors, he is inspired to continue his task, assured that if he does his utmost with what he has at his disposal he can not utterly fail.

Before every weaver, patient and plodding, the lovely tapestry of Christ's perfect character is set up. We may not perchance ever hope to reach such moral maturity, nor rival the perfection there portrayed. This, however, is evident. In that life true art is seen. It is our only pattern. Rightly conceived, and magnificently wrought, the beauty of this tapestry causes the human heart to burn with holy desire, and while it may be that the careless and indifferent heed it not, or "see no beauty that they should desire him," yet for the majority of the world's weavers, "he is the altogether lovely."

But then, not only does Jesus Christ confront men as their inspiration, or the pattern for reproduction in the loom of their own life. He is also the instructor of the striving. He stands by life's loom. He watches the shuttle as it passes to and fro, and as it slowly adds the threads that are bringing out the purpose of God. But no word of hasty reproof is heard tho the weaver makes mistakes, and tho the pattern is marred. Rather does he with cheer and comfort seek to enliven the monotonous hour with his smile, and to

quicken the fingers with his sympathy.

The finest weavers of life's looms were once as ignorant of the art as we, and as needful of the Master's instruction as we feel ourselves. Christ's finished work inspired them, as it may inspire us. And by the divine Spirit does he teach us how to use to the best effect the materials at our disposal, and how to follow the design of the divine artist. "Blessed is the man whom thou instructest."

The worker at life's loom has this confidence. The variety in his materials will one day be vindicated, and what is hidden will one day be made plain. We do not yet know all that is going on about us, neither do we understand the meaning of much we have to meet. The tapestry of life is still in the making. The design may not yet be fully seen. Why so? Like the tapestry weaver, we work from the wrong side, and only a very imperfect idea of what we are doing can therefore be ours. There is the tedious tracing out of the design. There are the plain warp-threads always before the eyes, and the rough ends of the wrong side are much in evidence. That is why we fail sometimes to work with hopeful hearts. But even tho the reverse side is ours for the present, we may yet gain some idea of what we have done and are doing. The weaver has a mirror which he is constantly holding up to the right side of his work, and by means of which he can remedy slight mistakes, and gain a fair idea of the progress he is making. And so to the fabric of life may we hold up the mirror of faith, and see something of the right side. We may thus gain hope for the completion of our task. Nor is that all. The worker now seeing only the reverse side of things will one day emerge from the place of his toil. His labor will be over, for the tapestry will be complete. And then, only then will God's choice be seen to be for the best. Then will his wondrous working be understood. The worker shall see that the dark colors have not been without their use nor have the brilliant ones been limited without purpose. The very variety of the materials will be vindicated. What follows? The tapestry will be a triumph. For if patient continuance in well-doing has been the way of the Christian weaver, if fidelity to the good purpose of God has guided the speeding shuttle, the work shall indeed glorify both God