But he that misses me, the goal,
Does violence to his own soul;
Yea, Death is courted by all those
That hate me ever as my foes."

ISIDORE MYERS.

Habakkuk's Prayer

Habakkuk iii: 17-18.

YET though the fig-tree should no burden bear,
Though vines delude the promise of the year;
Yet though the olive should not yield her oil,
Nor the parch'd glebe reward the peasant's toil;
Though the tired ox beneath his labors fall,
And herds in millions perish from the stall;
Yet shall my grateful strings

Forever praise. Thy name;

Forever Thee proclaim

The everlasting God, the mighty King of kings.

WILLIAM BROOME.

Trust

Habakkuk, iii: 17-18.

THOUGH bare of bloom the broad-leafed fig

And vines no luscious clusters show,

And toil that sinewed arms bestow!

On olive erst with berries big

Shall fail, and fields shall yield no meat,

Nor herds more in the stables low,

Nor woolly flocks in fold shall bleat,

I yet with joy the Lord shall greet,

With song my Strength and Saviour praise,
Who renders like to hinds my feet
And doth me to high places raise.

M. M.

Trustfulness

Trust in the Lord with all thine heart and rely not on thine own understanding.-Prov. iii: 5.

THOU, God, the only God, ́

Father of all!

Thou gladly, hearest us

If we but call.

When sin controls with power,
When fears our hopes devour,
In sorrow's chastening hour,
Be Thou e'er nigh,

Oft we forget Thy love,

O God most kind!
Oft we neglect Thy law,
Light to the blind.
Our every joy is Thine,
Gift of Thy grace divine,
Long let Thy mercy shine
On us below.

Thou Master of all worlds,

Of all adored!

Aid us to do Thy will,

Eternal Lord!

Let not Thy love depart,
Enter the prayerful heart,
With wrong we then shall part
For evermore.

Where'er Thou leadest us,
O Thou most High!

Humbly we follow Thee,

To do or die.

Should'st Thou our path make bright,

Should'st Thou afflict with blight,

Yet both by day and night

We trust in Thee.

J. LEONARD LEVY.

Watchman! What of the Night?

THE

'HE burden of Dumah. Silence. What of the night?

I hear the Watchman crying through the dark.
When to the golden cover of Thine Ark

Thy Mercy seat, wilt Thou, O God of Light
Return? How long wilt Thou Thy remnant smite,
And thresh the scattered corn upon Thy floor,
And winnow with Thy purging fan, before
That last least grain be garnered! Will Thy might
Destroy, nor spare? Lo, as a tale that is told,
Our days pass quickly, nor as yet the thorn

Yields to the fir. No more from us withhold
The Prince of Peace, that unto us is born:

Our bones, O Lord, are vexed, our eyes wax old With longing for that Messianic morn.

JAMES MEW.

Come Not, O Lord

'OME not, O Lord, in the dread robe of splendor Thou worest on the Mount, in the day of Thine ire; Come veiled in those shadows, deep, awful, but tender, Which Mercy flings over Thy features of fire.

Lord, Thou rememberest the night, when Thy nation.
Stood fronting her foe by the red-rolling stream;
On Egypt Thy pillar frowned dark desolation,
While Israel basked all the night in its beam.

So, when the dread clouds of anger enfold Thee, From us, in Thy mercy, the dark side remove; While shrouded in terror the guilty behold Thee, Oh, turn upon us the mild light of Thy love! THOMAS MOORE.

Think on God

A FRAGMENT

"Can a maid forget her ornaments or a bride her attire? Yet my people have forgotten me days without number."-Jeremiah ii, 32.

FORGET Thee, oh my God! and ca. this be?
Earth with thy thousand voices answer me!
Ye midnight heavens gazing with eyes so bright
Upon the silent eloquence of night

Speak of thy Maker! Speak thou glorious sun
And thou enchanting moon! ethereal one
Tell me of Him.

Oh! exquisite and clear

Were those soft words upon my listening ear;
Oh! eloquence divine of Nature's voice
Whose thrilling accents spoke:

"Fond heart rejoice,

For we forget not God; there is no hour

When we could live without His love-His power."
"Each moment," sighed the pale and blushing rose,
"The wonders of my Maker I disclose;"
And every flower throughout the garden fair
Mingles its grateful perfume with the air,
Like incense, rising with a heavenly prayer,
Speaks each in varied tone its faithful love
Crowned with eternal beauty from above.
"Ah! not in thee forgetfulness," I said,
"Emblems of faithful love! I too would shed
My heart's best incense on that holy shrine
To burn forever." Then, with sound divine,
Teeming with melody the stately trees.
And graceful wheat bowing to every breeze
In whispered chorus spoke His wonderous skill
And their obedience to His blessed will.
I gazed in rapture on those fields so sweet
Whose every blade bowed low as if to meet

The faintest breath of wind which seemed to bring
The thought of God upon its angel wing.
Oh! Nature, exquisitely calm and bright!

Your Maker is your life, your soul's delight.

R. E. S.

THOU

Job's Confession

HOU canst accomplish all things, Lord of might;
And every thought is named to Thy sight,

But O, Thy ways are wonderful, and lie
Beyond the deepest reach of mortal eye.
Oft have I heard of Thine Almighty power,
But never saw Thee till this dreadful hour,
O'erwhelmed with shame, the Lord of, life I see,
Abhor myself, and give my soul in Thee.
Nor shall my weakness tempt Thine anger more;
Man is not made to question, but adore.

EDWARD YOUNG.

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Dying Shall Man Live Again?

IN dying, will the parting breath

Renew our life, is there no death?
Go ask it of the winter's snow,
Or of the winds that fiercely blow.
Or ask it of the moaning seas,
Or of the naked, barren trees;
Or of dead leaves that withered lie,
Where autumn saw them fall and die.

Ask of the stars that nightly gleam-
Or ask it of the frozen stream
That in a shroud, all glorious, white,
Lies buried through the wintry night.