The missionary is sent forth as a messenger of the Churches, after undergoing the scrutiny and securing the approbation of a host of Christian ministers, who, by their own talent and worth, have risen to the pastorate over the most intelligent and influential churches in the land, and who, moreover, can have no motive to influence their selection but the desire to secure the most efficient instrumentality for the missionary work.  So much care and independent investigation are bestowed on the selection as to make it plain that extraneous influences can have but small power.  No pastor can imagine that any candidate has been accepted through his recommendations, however warm these may have been; and the missionary may go forth to the heathen, satisfied that in the confidence of the directors he has a testimonial infinitely superior to letters-apostolic from the Archbishop of Canterbury, or from the Vatican at Borne.  A missionary, surely, cannot undervalue his commission, as soon as it is put into his hands.

But what means the lugubrious wail that too often bursts from the circle of his friends?  The tears shed might be excused if he were going to Norfolk Island at the Government expense.  But sometimes the missionary note is pitched on the same key.  The white cliffs of Dover become immensely dear to those who never cared for masses of chalk before.  Pathetic plaints are penned about laying their bones on a foreign shore, by those who never thought of making aught of their bones at home.  (Bone-dust is dear nowhere, we think.) And then there is the never-ending talk and wringing of hands over missionary “sacrifices.”  The man is surely going to be hanged, instead of going to serve in Christ’s holy Gospel!  Is this such service as He deserves who, though rich, for our sakes became poor?  There is so much in the manner of giving; some bestow their favors so gracefully, their value to the recipient is doubled.  From others, a gift is as good as a blow in the face.  Are we not guilty of treating our Lord somewhat more scurvily than we would treat our indigent fellow-men?  We stereotype the word “charity” in our language, as applicable to a contribution to his cause.  “So many charities,—­we cannot afford them.”  Is not the word ungraciously applied to the Lord Jesus, as if He were a poor beggar, and an unworthy one too?  His are the cattle on a thousand hills, the silver and the gold; and worthy is the Lamb that was slain.  We treat Him ill.  Bipeds of the masculine gender assume the piping phraseology of poor old women in presence of Him before whom the Eastern Magi fell down and worshiped,—­ay, and opened their treasures, and presented unto Him gifts:  gold, frankincense, and myrrh.  They will give their “mites” as if what they do give were their “all.”  It is utterly unfair to magnify the little we do for Him by calling it a sacrifice, or pretend we are doing all we can by assuming the tones of poor widows.  He asks a willing mind, cheerful obedience; and can we not give that to Him who made his Father’s will in our salvation as his meat and his drink, till He bowed his head and gave up the ghost?