Kneel down and say yet once again
The prayer I told you a while ago;
And be not loud, my boy, my John-
Nay, it befits us to be low-

Nor yet so straight to the wording keep,
As I did give you charge before:
The best man ever was on the deep,
Pray for, and say the best twice o'er.

But when through our blessed Redeemer you say
The sweet supplication for him that's away,
That saints bring him back to us, saved from ill,
Add this to the Father: If so be Thy will.
And I, lest again my temptation assail,
Will yield to my chast'ning, and cover my head
With blackness of darkness instead of the veil
I pined for in worry, and pined for in fret,
Till my good man was fain to be gone with his net
Where but the winds scolded.

Now get from your knees;

For I, from the depths of contrition, have said
The Amen before you; and we'll to the seas:
Belike some kind wave may be washing ashore,
With coils of rope and salt sea-weed, some sign
To be as a letter sent out of the brine

To tell us the last news-to say if he struck

On the rocks and went down-but hush! breathe not, my lad.

O sweet Lord of Mercy! my brain is

gone mad! Or that was the tune that he whistled for luck!

Run! run to the door! open wide-wider yet!
He is there! he is here! and my arms are outspread;
I am clasping and kissing his hands rough and brown.
Are you living, or are you the ghost of my dead?

'Tis all of my worry and all of my fret;
Ashamed in his bosom I hung down my head.
He has been with his fishes to sell in the town,
For I see, snugly wrapped in the folds of his net,
The hindering veil and the spangled new gown.

ALICE CARY.

THE PALACE O' THE KING.

T'S a bonnie, bonnie warl' that we're livin' in the

IT'S

noo,

An' sunny is the lan' we aften traivel thro';

But in vain we look for something to which our hearts can cling,

For its beauty is as naething to the palace o' the King.

We like the gilded simmer, wi' its merry, merry tread, An' we sigh when hoary winter lays its beauties wi' the dead;

For though bonnie are the snawflakes, an' the down on winter's wing,

It's fine to ken it daurna' touch the palace o' the King.

Then again, I've juist been thinkin' that when a'thing here's sae bricht,

The sun in a' its grandeur an' the mune wi' quiverin' licht,

The ocean i' the simmer or the woodland i' the spring, What maun it be up yonder i' the palace o' the King?

It's here we hae oor trials, an' its here that he prepares A' his chosen for the raiment which the ransomed sinner wears,

An' it's here that he wad hear us, 'mid oor tribulations

sing,

"We'll trust oor God wha reigneth i' the palace o' the

King."

Though his palace is up yonder, he has kingdoms here below,

An' we are his ambassadors, wherever we may go; We've a message to deliver, and we've lost anes hame to

bring

To be leal and loyal heartit i' the palace o' the King.

Oh, its honor heaped on honor that his courtiers should be ta'en

Frae the wand'rin' anes he died for, i̇' this warl' o'sin

and pain,

An' it's fu'est love an' service that the Christian aye should bring

To the feet o' him wha reigneth i' the palace o' the King.

An' let us trust him better than we've ever done afore, For the King will feed his servants frae his ever bounteous store.

Let us keep a closer grip o' him, for time is on the wing, An' sune he'll come and tak' us to the palace o' the

King.

Its iv'ry halls are bonnie, upon which the rainbows

shine,

An' its Eden bow'rs are trellised wi' a never-fadin' vine, An' the pearly gates o' heaven do a glorious radiance fling On the starry floor that shimmers i' the palace of the

Nae nicht shall be in heaven, an' nae desolatin' sea,
An' nae tyrant hoofs shall trample i' the city o' the

free.

There's an everlastin' daylight, an' a never-fadin' spring, Where the Lamb is a' the glory, i' the palace o' the King.

We see oor frien's await us ower yonder at his gate:
Then let us a' be ready, for ye ken it's gettin' late :
Let oor lamps be brichtly burnin'; let's raise oor voice
an' sing,

"Sune we'll meet, to pairt nae mair, i̇' the palace o' the

King."

WILLIAM MITCHELL.

A

PAUL AT ATHENS.

ND Paul stood in the midst of the Areopagus, and said:

Ye men of Athens, in all things I perceive that ye are somewhat superstitious. For as I passed along, and observed the objects of your worship, I found also an altar with this inscription, TO AN UNKNOWN GOD. What therefore ye worship in ignorance, this set I forth unto you. The God that made the world and all things therein, he, being Lord of heaven and earth, dwelleth not in temples made with hands; neither is he served by men's hands, as though he needed anything, seeing he himself giveth to all life, and breath, and all things; and he made of one every nation of men for to dwell on the face of the earth, having determined their appointed seasons, and the bounds of their habitation; that they

should seek God, if haply they might feel after him, and find him, though he is not far from each one of us: for in him we live, and move, and have our being; as certain even of your own poets have said, For we are also his off spring. Being then the offspring of God, we ought not to think that the Godhead is like unto gold, or silver, o. stone, graven by art and device of man. The times c. ignorance therefore God overlooked; but now he com mandeth men that they should all everywhere repent: inasmuch as he hath appointed a day, in the which ho will judge the world in righteousness by the man whom he hath ordained; whereof he hath given assurance unto all men, in that he hath raised him from the dead.

BIBLE

"T

THE AGED STRANGER;

OR, "I WAS WITH GRANT."

WAS with Grant," the stranger said.
Said the farmer, "Say no more,
But rest thee here at my cottage porch,
For thy feet are weary and sore."

"I was with Grant," the stranger said.
Said the farmer, "Nay, no more,

I prithee sit at my frugal board,
And eat of my humble store.

"How fares my boy, my soldier boy,
Of the old Ninth Army Corps?

I warrant he bore him gallantly

In the smoke and the battle's roar!"