"I WILL LIFT UP MINE EYES UNTO THE HILLS." There I shall find help unfailing from God for my every need. But the Psalmist in trouble cleaveth unto the dust. How sad and discreditable this is. What is the world? Dust! Its pleasures, pursuits, profits, honours, are but dust, completely worthless, beneath an immortal mind, useless to a child of God. Yet our thoughts are filled with them, our affections are entangled by them, and our graces are weakened through them. Worldlings are at home in the dust; they appear to be satisfied with it, but the Christian is not at home and cannot be satisfied with it. This is God's mercy. O to look on high! To rise above the dust! To treat the things of time as they deserve! My soul, rouse and shake thyself from the dust, and put on thy beautiful heavenly garments. It is the day of salvation, thy God calls thee; He waits to hold fellowship with thee; He hath blessings of unspeakable worth to bestow upon thee. It is beneath thy dignity to lie here. It is contrary to thy calling, opposed to thy best interests. Heaven is thy home, holiness thy adornment. The King of Kings is thy heavenly husband, glory thy eternal portion. Earth is but a wilderness, only "a passing through." All its glories end in the dust.

For Meditation:
Strange that my soul should cleave to dust,
With God and heaven so nigh;
Begone, vain world; my spirit must
Ascend to dwell on high.