blood money, remember-" and their gold shall be re moved. Their silver and their gold shall not be able to deliver them in the day of the wrath of the Lord!" “Make a chain, for the land is full of bloody crimes, and the city is full of violence." “Make a chain, for the city is full of violence!" Make a chain to hold down fast and tight that which is destructive and deadly to civilization! Every man to-day is making a chain; and I tell you that the chain you are forging is not any stronger than its weakest link! It makes no difference how perfect you may be in this or that thing you may belong to a Church, and you may pray one way, but when you come to vote on this measure that looks to the overthrow of the nation's greatest evil, the strength of your chain will be measured by the character of your ballot. Has Men of America, I ask you," Is God dead?" "Is manhood left the nation forever? Are we an army of cowards? Or will we say, from this hour, God helping us, we will buckle on the whole armor of Almighty God, and in His name and with His power we will take a stand alongside of the mothers and the children of our land. and with our ballots, which execute the will of the people, we will bury this home and soul-destroying business beyond the hope of a resurrection? When we have done that, we shall have done our duty, and God will take care of the rest. JOHN P. ST. JOHN. THE BORDER LAND. These lines were sent by a lady to a friend who asked to know where she had been for several months, that she had not written to her? In the interval her friend had been brought to the gates of the grave by a Long and severe illness. I HAVE been to a land, a Border Land, Where there was but a strange dim light, I scarce bethought me how there I came, Its morn and night were marked by its flight, But I saw from this land, this Border Land, That they looked across to a wondrous strand, Then I turned me to Him, the Crucified Who had ransomed with blood my sinful soul Yet nay; for awhile in that Border Land, And gather rich fruits with a trembling hand He has led me amid those shadows dim, And shown that bright world so near To teach me that childlike trust in Him Is "the one thing needful" here. And so from the land, the Border Land, I have turned me to earth once more; That oh! should they ever possess me again I must think how empty they seemed and vain The Border Land had depths and vales, Where small seemed great, as weighed in scales 'Twas a land where earthly pride was not, But little I heard in the Border Land The once loud voices of human life I was deaf to the clang of its trumpet call, Its riches were dust and the loss of all Would then have scarce cost me a tear. I met with a Friend in this Border Land eye In affliction's loneliest hour. "Times of refreshing" to the soul In languor oft He brings Prepare it then to meditate On high and glorious things. Oh! Holy Ghost, too often grieved As can be held in the Border Land I have been to a land, a Border Land,- O'er the mighty lessons which then and there I have trodden a path I did not know, I can trust Him for all the future now, A LESSON WORTH ENSHRINING. A LESSON in itself sublime, A lesson worth enshrining And wisdom never preaches To human hearts a better lore Than this short sentence teaches: As life is sometimes bright and fair, And note its bright hours only. There is no grove on earth's broad chart, For life is sometimes bright and fair, We bid the joyous moments haste, But we should teach our hearts to deem As life is sometimes bright and fair, The darkest shadows of the night |