was intentional and judicious. It betrays the Evangelists' keen appreciation of man's natural fondness for youth — of childhood's strong claim and firm hold on our affections. There is a beauty and a freshness about childhood and youth that thrills the observer through and through like the breath of spring, and in their presence our gladdened hearts grow young again, — they respond to it as the songsters to the springtime and the skipping lambs and the laughing brooks. No invitation needed to bring the ardent Christian into communion with the boy of Nazareth. He is the Christian's richest treasure, and thither tends the Christian's heart. No need of description and details. In meditation, better far than solid facts is the vivid imagery of an unfettered imagination. Each of us, I hope, has felt this inclination — to turn betimes from the world — from its sordid cares and bitter trials, to the joy and peace of Nazareth and the blessed companionship of our youthful Saviour. In obedience to this same tendency, the Church, too, in her ritual, lingers long and lovingly over her Lord's earlier years.
St. Luke, in the second chapter of his gospel sums up the hidden life of Our Saviour in these few words: " He increased in age and wisdom and grace before God and men." One day, lately, in Sunday-school, a bright pupil asked: "Did Our Lord ever go to school? " It was a simple question simply asked, but the answer involved a profound dogmatic difficulty. It is easy to understand how Our Lord, existing as God from eternity, was still in time conceived as man,
