Breathe Thy pure breath, watching Father,
On this marred day of Thine,
This wandering day of mine;
Be patient with its blur and blot,
Wash it white of stain and spot,
Reproachful eyes! remember not
That I have grieved Thee,
On this day of Thine.

ELIZABETH STUART PHELPS.

January 17.

Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you; but rejoice, inasmuch as ye are partakers of Christ's sufferings; that, when His glory shall be revealed, ye may be glad also with exceeding joy. — 1 PETER iv. 12, 13.

MANY a waiting hour was needful to enrich the harp

of David, and many a waiting hour in the wilderness will gather for us a psalm of "thanksgiving, and the voice of melody," to cheer the hearts of fainting ones here below, and to make glad our Father's house on high. What was the preparation of the son of Jesse for the songs like unto which none have ever sounded on this earth? The outrage of the wicked, which brought forth cries for God's help. Then the faint hope in God's goodness blossomed into a song of rejoicing for His mighty deliverances and manifold mercies. Every sorrow was another string to his harp; every deliverance another theme for praise. One thrill of anguish spared, one blessing unmarked or unprized, one difficulty or danger evaded, how great would have been our loss in that thrilling Psalmody in which God's people to-day find the expression of their grief or praise! To wait for God, and to suffer His will, is to know Him in the fellowship of His sufferings, and to be conformed to the likeness of His Son. So now, if the vessel is to be enlarged for spiritual understanding, be not affrighted at the wider sphere of suffering that

awaits you. The divine capacity of sympathy will have a more extended sphere; for the breathing of the Holy Ghost in the new creation never made a stoic, but left the heart's affection tender and true.

ANNA SHIPTON.

MANY a seed of sacrifice bears its hundredfold in this life; and those which cannot, sown in Christ's grave, shall when we are glorified with Him receive a life everlasting.

THE SOWER.

"I HAD much seed to sow,'

" said one; "I planned

To fill broad furrows, and to watch it spring,

And water it with care. But now the hand

Of Him to whom I sought great sheaves to bring Is laid upon His laborer, and I wait,

Weak, helpless, at His palace gate.

"Now I have nothing only day by day Grace to sustain me till the day is done;

And some sweet passing glimpses by the way

Of Him, the altogether lovely one,

And some strange things to learn, unlearned before,
That make the suffering light, if it but teach me more."

Yet, from the hush of that secluded room,

Forth floated winged seeds of thought and prayer,
Those, reaching many a desert place to bloom,
And pleasant fruit an hundredfold to bear,
Those, wafted heavenward with song and sigh,
To fall again with showers of blessings from on high.

FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL.

January 18.

For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face; now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.- I COR. xiii. 12.

HE most exalted idea we can form of the future state THE is, that it brings and joins us to God. But is not approach to this great being begun on earth? Another delightful view of heaven is, that it unites us with the good and great of our own race, and even with higher orders of beings. But this union is one of spirit, not of mere place; it is accordance of thought and feeling, not an outward relation; and does not this harmony begin even now? and is not virtuous friendship on earth essentially the pleasure which we hope hereafter? What place would be drearier than the future mansions of Christ, to one who should want sympathy with their inhabitants, who would feel himself a foreigner there, who would be taught by the joys which he could not partake his own loneliness and desolation?

THE FUTURE LIFE.

How shall I know thee in the sphere which keeps
The disembodied spirits of the dead,

When all of thee that time could wither sleeps
And perishes among the dust we tread?

For I shall feel the sting of ceaseless pain
If there I meet thy gentle presence not;
Nor hear the voice I love, nor read again

In thy serenest eyes the tender thought.

Will not thy own meek heart demand me there?
That heart whose fondest throbs to me were given;
My name on earth was ever in thy prayer,
And wilt thou never utter it in heaven?

In meadows fanned by heaven's life-breathing wind,
In the resplendence of that glorious sphere,
And larger movements of the unfettered mind,
Wilt thou forget the love that joined us here?

The love that lived through all the stormy past,
And meekly with my harsher nature bore,
And deeper grew, and tenderer to the last,
Shall it expire with life, and be no more?

A happier lot than mine, and larger light,
Await thee there; for thou hast bowed thy will
In cheerful homage to the rule of right,

And lovest all and renderest good for ill.

For me, the sordid cares in which I dwell,

Shrink and consume my heart; as heat the scroll; And wrath has left its scar that fire of hell

Has left its frightful scar upon my soul.

Yet though thou wear'st the glory of the sky,
Wilt thou not keep the same beloved name,
The same fair thoughtful brow, and gentle eye,
Lovelier in heaven's sweet climate, yet the same?

Shalt thou not teach me in that calmer home
The wisdom that I learned so ill in this
The wisdom which is love till I become
Thy fit companion in that land of bliss?

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

January 19.

If we hope for that we see not, then do we with patience wait for it. ROM. viii. 25.

Their strength is to sit still. ·ISA. XXX. 7.

ΤΙ

HERE are sweet surprises awaiting many a humble soul fighting against great odds in the battle of a seemingly commonplace life.

THERE is something prophetic in thought and in emotion. In the heart of our imperfect knowledge there is lodged the hope of a perfect wisdom. At the end of our broken reasonings there shines the light of a higher truth. All our conclusions, all our theories, all our aspirations, point forward. Our very defects are intimations of a future development, and our limitations are but barriers which we are gaining strength to overleap. What is it all

worth unless there be a beyond? What are the attainments and acquisitions of our threescore and ten years, unless they are to be completed and perfected and applied in a hereafter? Why struggle and toil to gather a little knowledge that will be buried in all its weakness and incompleteness in the grave? But Reason herself breaks the chains of such a despairing doctrine. She shapes her wings to fly. She looks onward and upward. An endless vista opens before her. She anticipates immortality.

H. J. VAN DYKE.

WAITING.

I.

I HAVE my dreams as you do, yet for me
There can be no fulfilment ; but to dream
Is pleasant sometimes. Just to let these seem
Realities brings comfort. To be free
From earthly circumstance, to climb in glee
High as my soul can reach and feel the beam
Of glory on my brow - who does not deem
It good to sometimes dwell in Fantasy?
O tender heart and true! be what you will,
Who have the power. I, though I stay below
And watch you as you rise to heights elate,
Begrudge you nothing; dreams that you fulfil
I feel the beauty of. 'T is yours to grow
Ever and ever; mine to stand and wait.

II.

To wait: it is not wearisome; each day

Brings something; newer needs, or lessons caught
From yesterday, a stream of sunshine fraught

With gold that glitters, though it fades away

After a little. Nothing comes to stay,

Success or suffering. To wait is naught

When waiting means to serve. Yea, I have thought (To stop and think, or even stop and pray, When duty calls, is not alone unwise

But somewhat selfish) that 't is better so
Than to be carried upward by the swell
Of great Ambition. Ah, to wait! there lies
Something beyond the waiting, else I know
I could not be content to say - 'Tis well!

JAMES BERRY BENSEL.