Who will not count it true that Love,
Blessing, not cursing, rules above,
And that in it we live and move.

And one thing further make him know,
That to believe these things are so,
This firm faith never to forego,—

Despite of all which seems at strife With blessing, and with curses rife,That this is blessing, this is life.

DIFFERENT MINDS.

Some murmur when their sky is clear, And wholly bright to view,

If one small speck of dark appear

In their great heaven of blue.

And some with thankful love are filled,
If but one streak of light,

One ray of God's good mercy, gild
The darkness of their night.

In palaces are hearts that ask,
In discontent and pride,
Why life is such a dreary task,
And all good things denied.
And hearts in poorest huts admire
How love has, in their aid-
(Love that not ever seems to tire)

Such rich provision made.

THE EFFECTS OF PRAYER.

Lord, what a change within us one short hour
Spent in Thy presence will avail to make !
What heavy burdens from our bosoms take,
What parched grounds revive, as with a shower!
We kneel, and all around us seems to lower ;
We rise, and all the distant and the near,
Stands forth in sunny outline, brave and clear.
We kneel, how weak! we rise, how full of power!
Why, therefore, should we do ourselves this

wrong,

Or others,—that we are not always strong;
That we are ever overborne with care,

That we should ever weak or heartless be,
Anxious or troubled, when with us is prayer,
And joy, and strength, and courage are with
Thee?

COUPLETS.

When thou hast thanked thy God for every blessing sent,

What time will then remain for murmurs or lament?

When God afflicts thee, think He hews a rugged stone,

Which must be shaped, or else aside as useless thrown.

Thomas Miller.

1808-1874.

EVENING SONG.

How many days with mute adieu
Have gone down yon untrodden sky,
And still it looks as clear and blue
As when it first was hung on high.
The rolling sun, the frowning cloud
That drew the lightning in its rear,
The thunder tramping deep and loud,
Have left no foot-mark there.

The village-bells, with silver chime,
Come softened by the distant shore;
Though I have heard them many a time,
They never rung as sweet before.
A silence rests upon the hill,

A listening awe pervades the air;
The very flowers are shut and still,
And bowed as if in prayer.

And in this hushed and breathless close,
O'er earth and air and sky and sea,
A still, low voice in silence goes,

Which speaks alone, great God, of Thee.
The whispering leaves, the far-off brook,
The linnet's warble fainter grown,
The hive-bound bee, the building rook,-
All these their Maker own.

Now Nature sinks in soft repose,

A living semblance of the grave;
The dew steals noiseless on the rose,

The boughs have almost ceased to wave; The silent sky, the sleeping earth,

Tree, mountain, stream, the humble sod, All tell from whom they had their birth, "Behold a God!"

And cry,

Horatius Bonar.

1808-1889.

THE MASTER'S TOUCH.

In the still air the music lies unheard,

In the rough marble beauty hides unseen; To wake the music and the beauty, needs The master's touch, the sculptor's chisel keen.

Great Master, touch us with Thy skilful hand;
Let not the music that is in us die!
Great Sculptor, hew and polish us; nor let,
Hidden and lost, Thy form within us lie!

Spare not the stroke! do with us as Thou wilt!
Let there be naught unfinished, broken, marred;
Complete Thy purpose, that we may become
Thy perfect image, O our God and Lord!

HE LIVETH LONG WHO LIVETH WELL.

He liveth long who liveth well!
All other life is short and vain ;
He liveth longest who can tell
Of living most for heavenly gain.

He liveth long who liveth well!
All else is being flung away;
He liveth longest who can tell

Of true things truly done each day.

Waste not thy being; back to Him
Who freely gave it, freely give ;
Else is that being but a dream;

'T is but to be, and not to live.

Be wise, and use thy wisdom well; Who wisdom speaks must live it too; He is the wisest who can tell

How first he lived, then spoke, the true.

Be what thou seemest! live thy creed !
Hold up to earth the torch divine;
Be what thou prayest to be made ;
Let the great Master's steps be thine.

Fill up each hour with what will last;
Buy up the moments as they go ;
The life above, when this is past,

Is the ripe fruit of life below.