Cry the news up to the palace. The Queen of Sheba advances. Let all the people come out to see. Let the mighty men come out on the palace corridors. Let Solomon come down the stairs of the palace before the Queen has alighted. Shake out the cinnamon and the saffron and the calamus and the frankincense, and pass it into the treasure house. Take up the diamonds until they glitter in the sun.

The Queen of Sheba alights. She enters the palace. She washes at the bath. She sits down at the banquet. The cup-bearers bow. The meats smoke. The music trembles in the halls and through the corridors until it mingles in the dash of the waters from the molten sea. Then she rises from the banquet, and she walks through the conservatories, and she gazes on the architecture, and she asks Solomon many strange questions, and she learns about the religion of the Hebrews, and she then and there becomes a servant of the Lord God. She is overwhelmed. She begins to think that all the spices she brought, and all the precious woods which are intended to be turned into harps and psalteries and into railings for the causeway between the temple and the palace, and the one hundred and eighty thousand dollars in money,—she begins to think that all these presents amount to nothing in such a place, and she is almost ashamed that she had brought them. She says within herself: "I heard a great deal about this place and about this wonderful religion of the Hebrews, but I find it far beyond my highest anticipations. It exceeds everything that I could have expected. The half-the half was not told me."

Well, there is coming to every Christian a far greater surprise. Heaven is an old story. Everybody talks

about it. There is hardly a hymn in the hymn-book that does not refer to it. Children read about it in their Sabbath-school book. Aged men put on their spectacles to study it. We say it is a harbor from the storm. We call it our home. We say it is the house of many mansions. We weave together all sweet, beautiful, delicate, exhilarant words; we weave them into letters, and then we spell it out in rose and lily and amaranth. And yet that place is going to be a surprise to the most intel· ligent Christian.

It

Like the Queen of Sheba, the report has come to us from the far country, and many of us have started. is a desert march, but we urge on the camels. What though our feet be blistered with the way? We are hastening to the palace. We take all our loves and hopes and Christian ambitions, as frankincense and myrrh and cassia, to the great King. We must not rest. We must not halt. The night is coming on, and it is not safe out here in the desert. Urge on the camels! I see the domes against the sky, and the houses of Leba non, and the temples and the gardens. See the foun tains dance in the sun, and the gates flash as they open to let in the poor pilgrims. Send the word up to the palace that we are coming and that we are weary of the march of the desert. The King will come out and say: "Welcome to the palace; bathe in these waters, recline on these banks. Take this cinnamon and frankincense and myrrh, and put it upon a censer and swing it be fore the altar."

And yet, my friends, when heaven bursts upon us it will be a greater surprise than that-Jesus on the throne we made like Him! All our Christian friends furng us in glory! All our sorrows and tears and

sins gone by forever! The thousands of thousands, the one hundred and forty and four thousand, the great multitudes that no man can number, will cry world without end: The half,-the half was not told us!"

66

T. DE WITT TALMAGE.

WEATHER-SONG.

WHEN the weather is wet,

We must not fret ;

When the weather is cold,

We must not scold;

When the weather is warm

We must not storm;

But

Be thankful together,

Whatever the weather.

THE UNSEEN BATTLE-FIELD.

THERE is an unseen battle-field

In every human breast,

Where two opposing forces meet,
But where they seldom rest.

That field is veiled from mortal sight,

'Tis only seen by One

Who knows alone where victory lies.

When each day's fight is done.

One

army clusters strong and fierce-
Their chief of demon form;

His brow is like the thunder-cloud,
His voice the bursting storm;

His captains-Pride, and Lust, and Hate-
Whose troops watch night and day,
Swift to detect the weakest points,
And thirsty for the fray.

Contending with this mighty force
Is but a little band;

Yet there, with an unquailing front,
Those warriors firmly stand!

Their leader is a God-like form,

Of countenance serene;

And glowing on His naked breast

A simple cross is seen.

His captains-Faith, and Hope, and Love

Point to that wondrous sign; And gazing on it, all receive

Strength from a Source divine.

They feel it speak a glorious truth,
A truth as great as sure—
That to be victors they must learn
To love, confide, endure.

That faith sublime in wildest strife
Imparts a holy calm;

For every deadly blow a shield,
For every wound a balm.

And when they win that battle-field,

Past toil is quite forgot;

The plain where carnage once had reigned.
Becomes a hallowed spot-

A spot where flowers of joy and peace
Spring from the fertile sod,

And breathe the perfume of their praise
On every breeze—to God.

K

WORDS OF WELCOME.

IND friends, and dear parents, we welcome you
here

To our nice pleasant school-room, and teachers so dear;
We wish but to show how much we have learned,
And how to our lessons our hearts have been turned.

But hope you'll remember we all are quite young,
And when we have spoken, recited, and sung,
You will pardon our blunders, which, as all are aware,
May even extend to the president's chair.

Our life is a school time; and till that shall end,
With our Father in heaven for teacher and friend,
O. let us perform well each task that is given
Till our time of probation is ended in heaven.