THE narrow way is just as roomy horizontally, straight ahead. It seems sometimes as if no other track were ever so beset with obstacles. How they loom up—opposition, disaster, barriers that can not be passed. But the beauty of it is that the obstacles are always more than one step ahead. There is always room for that one step. Who wants more? If this does not always seem so, one has only to take the step, and he discovers that what looked like solid, formidable rock was only a shadow cast by his own fears or the enemy's frown. Never yet has there been a rock in the narrow way. It is the channel, the path of duty, the way where the sailing is. Breasting some unknown river, one sees ahead of him the stubborn mountains closing in till there is no sign of an outlet; but all he has to do is to follow the Pilot's directions, and he will find the formidable gateway unclosing just where it seemed the most unyielding. We hesitate to run our boat into that slender lane between the ice-floes. We are sure we shall be crushed. But a mighty Hand holds the floes apart while we pass through, and makes them the buffer that wards off more fearful blows. The narrow way seems a lane, but it is an avenue. The broad way which appears to have so much room ahead is always leading us into unexpected difficulties; we are forever crashing into unlooked-for rocks, the sure result of our selfishness, or blind ambition, or unspiritual desire, or other and deeper sin. It seems an avenue, but it continually proves "no thorofare."—Sunday School Times.