More tranquil than the stillness of the night,
More peaceful than the silence of that hour,
More blest than anything, my bosom lies
Beneath Thy power.

For what is there on earth that I desire,
Of all that it can give or take from me?
Of whom in heaven doth my spirit seek,
O God! but Thee?

CLING TO THOSE WHO CLING TO YOU.

HERE are many friends of summer,

THERE

Who are kind while flowers bloom,

But when winter chills the blossoms,
They depart with the perfume.
On the broad highway of action

Friends of worth are far and few;
So when one has proved his friendship,
Cling to him who clings to you.

Do not harshly judge your neighbor,
Do not deem his life untrue,
If he makes no great pretensions-
Deeds are great though words are few;
Those who stand amid the tempest,
Firm as when the skies are blue,
Will be friends while life endureth.
Cling to those who cling to you.

When you see a worthy brother
Buffeting the stormy main,

Lend a helping hand fraternal,

Till he reach the shore again; Don't desert the old and tried,

When misfortune comes in view, For he then needs friendship's comforts. Cling to those who cling to you.

DON'T LOOK SAD.

EVER look sad; nothing so bad

NEVER

As getting familiar with sorrow; Treat him to-day in a cavalier way,

And he'll seek other quarters to-morrow.

Long you'd not weep, could you but peep At the bright side of each trial; Fortune you'll find is often most kind, When chilling your hopes with denial.

Let the sad day carry away

Its own little burdens of sorrow,
Or you may miss half of the bliss
That comes in the lap of to-morrow.

HOW TO LIVE.

E 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 :
'Tis but to be, and not to live.

Be wise, and use thy wisdom well;
Who wisely 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.

Sow truth if thou the true wouldst reap;
Who sows the false shall reap the vain;
Erect and sound thy conscience keep;
From hollow words and deeds refrain.

Sow love, and taste its fruitage pure;
Sow peace, and reap its harvest bright;
Sow sunbeams on the rock and moor,

And find a harvest-home of light.

H. BONAR.

I

WAITING ON GOD.

CANNOT think but God must know
About the thing I long for so;

I know He is so good, so kind,

I cannot think but He will find

Some way to help, some way to show
Me to the thing I long for so.

I stretch

my hand-it lies so near;

It looks so sweet, it looks so dear;
"Dear Lord," I pray, "O, let me know
If it is wrong to want it so?"

He only smiles-He does not speak;

My
heart grows weaker and more weak,
With looking at the thing so dear,
Which lies so far, and yet so near.

Now, Lord, I leave at Thy loved feet
This thing which looks so near, so sweet;
I will not seek, I will not long-
I almost fear I have been wrong.

I'll go and work the harder, Lord,
And wait till by some loud, clear word
Thou callest me to Thy loved feet,

To take this thing so dear, so sweet.

SAXE HOLM.

GOD KNOWS.

THROUGH all my little daily cares there is

One thought that comfort brings whene'er it comes; "Tiз this-"God knows." He knows, indeed, full well

Each struggle that my hard heart makes to bring
My will to His. Often, when night-time comes
My heart is full of tears, because the good
That seemed at morn so easy to be done
Has proved so hard; but then remembering
That a kind Father is my judge, I say

“He knows,” and so I lay me down with trust That His good hand will give me needed strength To better do His work in coming days.

A

MY NEIGHBOR'S BABY.

CROSS in my neighbor's window,

With the drapings of satin and lace,

I see, 'neath his flowing ringlets,

A baby's innocent face.
His feet, in crimson slippers,

Are tapping the polished glass,
And the crowd in the street look upward,
And nod and smile as they pass.

Just here in my cottage window,
Catching flies in the sun,
With a patched and faded apron,
Stands my own little one.
His face is as pure and handsome
As the baby's over the way,
And he keeps my heart from breaking
At my toiling, every day.

Sometimes, when the day is ended,
And I sit in the dusk to rest,