garden of spices the sweet odours flow out, and out of the mouth of babes and sucklings God thus perfects his praise. You have seen the breeze come to the fading, wilting flower, and revive it, so that it again lifts its head, and again smiles in its beauty?"

"Yes, Master, I have."

"So the Spirit comes to the poor, afflicted, drooping one, whose pale brow is bowed down under sorrow, and crushed under disappointment: and He fills the heart with hope and new life, and lifts up the head in joyfulness. He gives the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness. You have seen the oak on the hills, the old gnarled tree that has stood many years, breasting the storm, and defying the lightnings of heaven; and yet the wind comes down with power sufficient to make the oak bend and lie low in the dust. Hast thou never seen this?" "Yea, Rabbi, I have seen the oaks of Bashan bowed and prostrated, feeble as bulrushes, before the wind."

"So the Spirit comes, at times, to the aged sinner, who has grown old and hardened in sin, and causes him to bend in agony, and prostrate in the dust, to plead for mercy. Thou canst not tell whence the wind cometh, or whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit

"Mysterious doctrine!"
"But none the less true."

"Why cannot I understand it-the spiritual world?"

"For the same reason that thou canst not understand earthly things. Thou art finite;these are infinite. All thy knowledge, imagery, ideas, are of earth, and these are heavenly things. But light will dawn upon thee, thou master in Israel! Thou comest to me in the darkness of night, lest thy companions should scorn thee: the day will come when thou wilt boldly stand between me and their malice. Thou art timid now, but when the power of this Spirit shall rest upon thy heart, thou wilt recall this conversation, and go openly and honour my body at its burial. Thou art sitting in the twilight, but it is the twilight of the morning,-the morning of a day that shall be eternal. But thou must feel the Spirit's power, and marvel not that I say unto thee, ye must be born again!"

IX.

THE WIDOW'S OFFERING.

BY THE REV. DANIEL MARCH.

"GIFTS for the treasury of the Lord-
He shall not fail of full reward
Who, with a willing heart, shall bring
The noblest, costliest offering."
No sooner is the mandate given,
Than crowds obey the call of Heaven;
The rich, the poor, the young, the old:
The court resounds with dropping gold.
But who, amid the throng that crowd,
With vaunting air, and voices loud,
To fill the temple's treasury,
Alone attracts the Saviour's eye!

'Tis she, the lowliest one of all,

Whom want hath made its helpless thrall;
Herself Messiah's blessed poor,
She comes to bring her scanty store.

With faltering frame, and chastened mien,
That speak of grief and suffering keen,
She waits the time when least observed,
To give to Him she long hath served.

How much cast in that feeble hand?
Was it in full the law's demand?
Alas! there is no coin so small
As her poor tithe. She gave her all.

To him, the rich man's millions were
Far less than those two mites to her;
For she hath coined her life, to bring
That one unheeded offering.

Unheeded? Not by Him whose name
The needy ne'er invoked in vain;
In his esteem, that gift so small
Is deemed of richer worth than all.

More than the miser's stinted dole,
Wrung slowly from his rusted soul;
More than the Pharisee doth cast,
While trumpets peal with loudest blast;

More than all kings and nobles wrest

From vanquished foes and states oppressed,

Doth that poor widow thus afford

To fill the treasury of the Lord.

In other times, in other lands,
Long as Messiah's kingdom stands,
Shall her approved example live,
Till all, their all, like her, shall give.

Prophet. Our Saviour compassioned the multitude, and though he never performed a miracle for his own comfort, never commanded the stones to become bread to give him food, would not send away this multitude empty. And now the crowd are moved and swayed, for his disciples have gone among them, bidding them to sit down on the grass in companies. There now! They are spread out as far as the eye The camels are in the background, the turbaned multitude are hushed, and the disciples, with anxious faces, are counting the company.

can see.

were announcing the coming of night. And they, the enraptured multitude, were now ready, they had their committees chosen, and now came forward to offer the Son of Man a crown; but when they approached the spot where he stood when he wrought the miracle, he was not there. He had withdrawn himself, and they could not find him. They wonder, and retire, saying, "We have seen strange things to-day." After having performed the only miracle recorded by all the Evangelists, he withdrew, not in triumph, but to agonize in prayer alone, on the mountain.

XI.

CHRIST HEALING THE SICK MAN, LET DOWN THROUGH THE ROOF.

BY MRS. ELIZABETH H. BAILEY.

THRICE favoured city of the plain, again the Holy One,
To be beneath some humble roof, a lowly guest, had come,
And gathering crowds, with hasty steps, pressed round in
enger strife,

And from his hallowed lips received the precious words of life.

Here had He oft to sinful men, his purest lessons taught, Here too, at twilight's gentle hour, had wondrous healing wrought;

And now they bore a stricken one, who sought the Healer's aid,

On whom cold palsy's nerveless arm, with withering power was laid.

They bore him on with anxious haste, alas! their haste was vain,

For from beyond the sacred stream, and Judea's hill and plain,

we got through, there was more left than we had to begin with. The curse upon the wicked

ble place,

Nor could the invalid obtain one glimpse of Jesus' face.

be left,' did not surely rest upon any of us today."

The multitudes astonished rose up, refreshed, glad, but not grateful. In little groups they gathered together, and were earnestly engaged in talking. Some went, dropping a few words here and there, from group to group. Soon there was a murmur heard, rising louder and louder. "Yes, it must be the Delivererthe King of Israel! Let us crown him our King!"

While they were thus consulting, the twilight of evening began to deepen into the dark shades of night. The lark had sung her last song, and in the distance the whip-poor-will was pouring out her evening strains. white clouds in the sky had turned into gray, and the wandering bat, and the shrill cricket,

The

amaze,

birth,

He bade the paralytic rise, and to his friends go forth.

When lo! upon that pallid cheek, the rose of health is seen;

Bearing his couch, he homeward went, with firm and healthful mien.

deeds of might,

"Yea, rather blest," said he, "whose faith doth need no aid from sight."

And thou, Capernaum, beyond degree, thou high, exalted

Didst, for thy lack of faith, receive from him a fearful doom.

XII.

THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL SON.

WHOEVER looks out upon the ocean, and con siders it the free highway of nations, the connecting bond between different countries, and the great cloud-former of the earth, sending forth its vapours to refresh and gladden all lands, or the store-house whence myriads draw their food, has not understood all the uses of the ocean. Though we shudder at the thought of its rocks, its sandbars, its storms and hurricanes, its shipwrecks, and its death-groans, yet these are necessary to fulfil its moral designs. Were there no storms, no reefs, no wrecks, no perils, the sailor could not look out in the darkness and tempest, and watch the glimmer of the lighthouse, and know that humanity is remembering him, and trying to shield him from danger; he would not in his distresses see the little life-boat dancing over the billows for his rescue; he would not feel that loving

hearts were thinking of him and praying for him; and he would not have so tearful a meeting on his return to his home. Storm and danger, troubles and toils, though they may seem at first to be only evil, yet add to human happiness.

There is no spot-and the thing has been said a thousand times-so beautiful and lovely as the family circle, where the hearts are bound together and throb alike, by sympathy, by education, by habits, by common interests, and by sorrow shared together. What tears are shed at the parting of parents and children, when they gathered around the deathbed of the youngest, the pet-as they carry out the crushed flower and lay it in the lonely cemetery; and what tears of joy flow as they regather, after being scattered abroad, to the old homestead, and they recount their several chapters in their own history, since they took up the weary burdens of life! The deepest sorrows earth knows are to be found in the home circle, and there too are the sweetest,