hills are called “everlasting.”  Go to the side of the ocean which bounds our country, and watch the tide going out, bearing with it the sand which it has worn from the cliffs; the very boundaries of our land are changing; they are not the same as they were when these words were written.  Every day new relationships are forming around us; new circumstances are calling upon us to act—­to act manfully, firmly, decisively, and up to the occasion, remembering that an opportunity once gone is gone for ever.  Indulge not in vain regrets for the past, in vainer resolves for the future—­act, act in the present.

Again, this is true with respect to ourselves.  “The fashion of this world passeth away” in us.  The feelings we have now are not those which we had in childhood.  There has passed away a glory from the earth—­the stars, the sun, the moon, the green fields have lost their beauty and significance—­nothing remains as it was, except their repeated impressions on the mind, the impressions of time, space, eternity, colour, form; these cannot alter, but all besides has changed.  Our very minds alter.  There is no bereavement so painful, no shock so terrible, but time will remove or alleviate.  The keenest feeling in this world time wears out at last, and our minds become like old monumental tablets which have lost the inscription once graven deeply upon them.

In conclusion, we have to examine the nature of this Christian unworldliness which is taught us in the text.  The principle of unworldliness is stated in the latter portion of the text; in the former part the apostle makes an application of the principle to four cases of life.  First, to cases of domestic relationship—­“it remaineth that they that have wives be as though they had none.”  Secondly, to cases of sorrow—­“and they that weep as though they wept not.”  Thirdly, to cases of joy—­“and they that rejoice as though they rejoiced not.”  And, finally to cases of the acquisition of worldly property, “and they that buy as though they possessed not.”  Time will not allow us to go into these applications; we must confine ourselves to a brief consideration of the principle.  The principle of Christian unworldliness, then is this, to “use this world as not abusing it.”  Here Christianity takes its stand, in opposition to two contrary principles.  The spirit of the world says, “Time is short, therefore use it while you have it; take your fill of pleasure while you may.”  A narrow religion says, “Time is short, therefore temporal things should receive no attention:  do not weep, do not rejoice; it is beneath a Christian.”  In opposition to the narrow spirit of religion, Christianity says, “Use this world;”—­in opposition to the spirit of the world Christianity says, “Do not abuse it.”  A distinct duty arises from this principle to use the world.  While in the world we are citizens of the world:  it is our duty to share its joys, to take our part in its sorrows, not to shrink