There were certain sacrifices and offerings which the pious Jew was bound to present. To omit compliance with certain regulations upon these observances would have been disloyalty. But there were other offerings which were optional, which were left to the feelings and to the circumstances of the worshipper. They were only brought when there was an especially lively sense of the Lord's goodness, and an especial desire to express consecration and devotion. Gifts prompted by gratitude and love are the only gifts which are of value in the sight of him who searcheth and looketh upon the hearers.

I. FREE-WILL OFFERINGS ARE BECOMING ON THE PART OF MAN. Man's nature is distinguished by the glorious prerogative of liberty. There is for him no moral excellence or beauty in constraint. The heart is free, and it is the only gift which in God's sight is precious; all other gifts have value so far only as they are the expression of the love and loyalty of the spiritual nature. Whatever is dedicated to God of the worshipper's free-will is a human and a worthy offering, such as a being with man's prerogative of liberty may justly offer.

II. FREE-WILL OFFERINGS ARE ACCEPTABLE TO GOD. False religions sometimes extort from devotees, by the motive of terror, gifts and offerings services and sacrifices which would otherwise be withheld. They must be fictitious' deities that are represented as gratified with such offerings as these. But the character of God is such as assures us of his willingness to receive what is freely and cheerfully presented. Not that he can be enriched by anything that his creatures can present. "Of thine own," they acknowledge - "of thine own have we given thee." But all is precious to him that reveals a loyal, loving, and grateful heart. - T.

The Prince shall mean to us the man Christ Jesus, whom God has exalted to be a Prince and a Saviour. Isaiah calls Him the "Prince of Peace"; and Peter, the "Prince of Life." I don't know where the Prince's central palace is, nor where He holds His court. It is in the far country which no human eye has ever explored; somewhere beyond the unknown seas which no embodied soul can navigate, and from which no traveller has come back to tell the tale. But I live in hope, the hope that stirs many another eager heart, that on some fair morning I shall see this King in His beauty, in the land that won't be far off then! But this verse tells us something quite good enough and bright enough for us to know: "The Prince is in the midst of them." It is not often that the royalties of earth occupy a place like that; some of them are shut up in splendid seclusion. Most men know only the names of the great and noble; all of them are removed from the society of the poor. But our Prince has no preference, no selection, no priority. He is in the midst of His people, and His light and smile are always to be seen. The gifts of His bounty are as free to the man who is lowly, to the sons of poverty, as to the sons of wealth. But it is not everybody who recognises the presence of the Prince when He is here. He may smile as royally as the sunlight, and yet you may be so insensible as never to know He is near. Do you acknowledge His rule? Do you submit to His authority? Do you obey His command? A prince has laws, — do you honour them? A prince has reverence, — do you reverence Him? This Prince covets your affections, — do you love Him? I knew a Christian woman who was always found early in the sanctuary. She was quite deaf, and heard neither song nor sermon. I asked her why she came and whether she was the better for it, and her answer is worth recording: "The communion of saints is sweet in itself, and a neighbour always finds the lessons and the text for me, and the Lord speaks to me, and His voice is very sweet to me." You see that her loyalty brought her into the presence of royalty. The Prince was there to speak, touch, and smile to her. And the Prince in the midst of them when they go in shall go in with them. You see that the loyal hearts that honour Christ bring Him with them. They cross the threshold together with Christ, and sit together with Him in the pew. I am afraid that there is too little of this with us. We should seek to be prepared for the house of prayer beforehand, that we and the Prince may come there hand in hand. "When they go forth." That is the best test of any sanctuary service. Do we carry with us the companion, the guest who says to us as we go forth from the house of God, what He said to Zacchaeus when He called that publican, "I must abide at thy house," thy house. Always understand that where the Prince's subjects are, those who are loyal to Him, in whose hearts He reigns — ruling in the life, — that the Prince is always with them. He does not part company with them at morning prayer; He does not breathe a benediction on them at the family gathering, and then retire to the throne of His glory. But He takes His place, too, in the tram, the 'bus, or the train. He cheers and gives the strength and power to the ordinary doings of the day. If we would but remember to realise this, what a grand and noble business the daily round and common task would be! Don't you think the company and oversight of our Prince is to be desired? I do believe in a religion that has to do with every five minutes of our time. Sure am I that your burdens would be lighter, your cares lessened, your hands strengthened, and your hearts cheered, if you could but feel that your Prince was present to smooth your path and to dwell within prayerful reach of you all the time; and oh! what a defence that would be against the continuity of temptations that assail us through life. I remember reading of a lad who was tempted to steal his master's goods by one of his fellow workmen. "John, you can do so-and-so now; the master has gone now; the master is not in." "No," said the lad, "my Master is always in." Well done, John! that is the true principle of life. His Master was the Prince. Christ had gone into the shop with him. I want you to see that my text is especially grandly and beautifully true in the days of our suffering and trial. If you yourself are called on to drop your tool, to lay down your pen, to retire awhile from actual life, and to prepare for illness, the Prince, when you go in, shall go in too; for there, more than ever, He is near to comfort and to bless. His voice is then so gentle, His touch so tender, and His companionship so sweet. He makes the sick chamber the house of God, and the gate of heaven. And my text says a little more than that. The Prince in the midst of them when they go forth shall go forth too. This is a promise for the traveller. We travel much nowadays; travel rapidly and in a good deal of peril. What a promise for the traveller when he goes forth. He shall go forth too! What a promise for the emigrant as he says "Good-bye" to his friends. "Good-bye, my lad," said an old man whom I knew, to a young fellow, "there is one thing that keeps my heart from breaking and that is that the Lord is with thee, lad." Christ was going forth with the boy! What a promise that is for the youth leaving the parental roof! Or for the evangelist going out to proclaim the Gospel. The Prince is in the midst of them; when they go forth He shall go forth. Is not that a grand promise for us in view of our departure from earth? Our last exit, our going forth from the brief life which is here our portion, will come, perhaps, soon. At the bedside of the dying, Christ enters, and He shall not leave us alone then. I think the record of the goings forth from life of Christians is most encouraging. Rutherford was glorying in God when his very feet were on the shore, and he said , as he went, "I have gotten the victory, and Christ, my Savior, is holding out both arms to embrace me. Why is death called the dark valley, for it grows brighter and brighter, and it is now so bright I have to shut my eyes." His lips parted in a smile. So he went forth, and the Prince went forth with him. Then his eyes were opened, to be shut no more. An English lady visiting the great Exhibition in Paris, was seized with sudden illness. But she longed to be loyal to the Prince whom she had long ago crowned with her heart. In her last moments her speech left her, but she managed to utter a simple word — Bring. Her friends offered her a drink of water, and she said again — Bring. Then they moistened her lips, and prayed. Then they thought she must desire to see some absent friend, and they whispered in her ear that he should be sent for, and she said, with a last effort, "Bring forth the royal diadem, and crown Him Lord of all." And when the Prince, who was in the midst, when she went forth, went — yes, the two went forth together — Christ and the saved soul went forth into the silence of the great unknown.

(J. J. Wray.)