'My Beloved is Mine, and I am His.'

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beside you, and you in spirit are called by Him to enjoy His divine preciousness without any mixture, failure, or cessation. I know you must feel it a very lonely time, but every gourd in time must come down, that the full beauty of Christ may satisfy and delight our hearts. May this be your experience richly.

A

'MY BELOVED IS MINE, AND I AM HIS.' NOBLEMAN in the north of England once said to a gentleman who accompanied him in a walk, 'Those beautiful grounds, as far as your eye can reach, those majestic woods on the brow of the distant hills, and those extensive mines belong to me.' 'Well, my lord,' replied the gentleman, 'do you see yonder little hovel that seems but a speck in your estate? there dwells a poor woman who can say more than all this, for she can say, "CHRIST IS MINE." In a very few years your lordship's possessions will be confined within the scanty limits of a tomb; but she will then have entered on a far nobler inheritance than your lordship now possesses—an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away, reserved in heaven for those who are kept by the power of God through faith unto salvation.'

Hymn Treasury,

WATCH AND PRAY.-MATT. xxvi. 40.

ETTER than sleep to watch with Christ,
And share His hour of woe;

Better than sleep to kneel with Him,
Though weary brain and failing limb
Their promised rest forego.

Oh, what we lose if sunk in sleep,
While Jesus bids us pray;

To wakeful, watchful ones are given
Visions of angels, strength from heaven,
To cheer them on their way.

(LUKE ii. 8-13.)

And rest is waiting, home is near;
Soon toil and weakness o'er,
Weariness, hardship, fighting done,
Caught up to Christ before the Throne,
We'll need to watch no more.

In hope to share our Lord's delight
We'll share His vigils too;
Earth has no joy so sweet as this,
To stay by Him through woe or bliss,
And all the world forego.

He will sustain the trembling flesh
Throughout the 'little while;'

Though worn with pain our hearts will burn,
Though dim with tears our eyes will turn,
To meet His gracious smile.

And then, when all is done and borne,

And this frail tent comes down,

How fair the rest His love has won,

How sweet the Master's word, 'Well done, Sit down upon My Throne.'

E. STACY WATSON.

HE IS THERE.

CANNOT where He is not,

go

In crowded street or lonely grot;
Where'er I choose my lowly lot—
The blessed Lord is there.

For could I climb the vault of blue,
And know what seraph never knew,
And all the stellar glories view—
The Lord of Glory's there.

Beyond-before the birth of Days,
Could I behold with awe-struck gaze,
Ere morning stars had harped His praise,
I would behold Him there.

And onward-past the fading sun,
Could I the march of Time outrun,
And see the Endless Age begun,
I'd find Him surely there.

All earth and ocean, sun and star,
Within, beyond creation's bar,

The high, the deep, the near, the far,
Are His, and He is there.

I find Him in the forest trees,
I hear Him in the summer breeze;
And when the storm uplifts the seas
I know that He is there.

I know that if 'tis good He will
Say to the wild waves, 'Peace, be still,'
With calm the caves of ocean fill-

For He its Lord is there.

The Infinite, Eternal, He

Once came, a lowly Babe to be,
To slumber hushed on Mary's knee,
Yet-King of angels there.

And still, where'er the child-like heart
Doth meekly choose the better part,
And loving cleaves to all Thou art—
Thou Saviour God art there.

GEORGE PAULIN.

REST FOR THE WEARY.

I'M weary and worn, Lord,

I've wander'd far from Thee, Lord;

I'm weary and worn,

Oh give the weary rest.

A wayward child indeed, Lord,

No merit can I plead, Lord,

But only my great need

And Thy yet greater love.

So bitter was earth's best, Lord,

So ruffled was its rest, Lord,

Ne'er could my heart opprest

Find calm or comfort there.

Too soon its bright skies shade, Lord;
Too soon its sweet flowers fade, Lord;
And vain is all its aid

To save a sinking soul.

So I will trust in Thee, Lord,
For Thou wilt shelter me, Lord;
Yes, I will trust in Thee
And in Thy precious blood.
Its crimson tide alone, Lord,
Can for my sins atone, Lord;
Oh take me for Thine own,
Unworthy as I am.

Thy tender voice I hear, Lord,
Bidding me not to fear, Lord,
But boldly to draw near,
And venture all on Thee.

I lay me at Thy feet, Lord,

That place to sinners sweet, Lord,
Where Love and Justice meet,
And JESUS satisfies.

ASK YE WHAT GREAT THING I KNOW.

SK ye what great thing I know
That delights and stirs me so?
What the high reward I win?
Whose the Name I glory in?

Jesus Christ, the Crucified.

M. F.