ROCK OF AGES-THE SONG Some years ago the following exquisite verses appeared in Public Opinion, London. They surely have in them power to gently touch every heart and to soothe the weary. It is but one of the many beautiful forms of the story of a life lived according to faith in God. "Rock of Ages, cleft for me—” Sung as sing the birds in June; "Rock of Ages, cleft for me" Felt her soul no need to hide, Fell from lips untouched by care, "Rock of Ages, cleft for me, "Rock of Ages, cleft for me-" 'Twas a woman sung them now; Every note with sorrow stirred, "Rock of Ages, cleft for me-" Lips grown aged sung the hymn Trustingly and tenderly; Voice grown weak and eyes grown dim"Let me hide myself in Thee." Trembling though the voice and low, Ran the sweet strain peacefully, Like a river in its flow; Sung as only they can sing Who life's thorny paths have pressed; Sung as only they can sing Who behold the promised rest— "Rock of Ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee." "Rock of Ages, cleft for me-- All life's joys and sorrows hid. Closed beneath the soft white hair: Move again in pleading prayer, Still, aye still, the words would be"Let me hide myself in Thee." THE WHITE HOUSE KITCHEN IN 1862 Both the steward and the cook had remonstrated with "Master Tad" upon bringing into the kitchen of the White House "such squads of poor, dirty, hungry street urchins to be fed," and at last Peter said that Mrs. Lincoln must be told. Tad flew into a rage, ran upstairs to see his mother himself, and on finding her out, searched the place for his busy father. Meanwhile, the small objects of his charity waited at the lower door-for Peter had absolutely refused to let them "step inside." The indignant boy spied his father just crossing the yard with head bowed, eyes to the ground, talking earnestly to Mr. Seward as they walked to the Department of State together. He cried out to him at once:-"Father, father! Can't I bring those poor, cold, hungry boys home with me whenever I want to? Isn't it our kitchen?" By this time Tad had his father by the hand, who stopped to listen to the frantic appeal. "Can't I give them a good warm dinner today, say? They're just as hungry as bears, and two of 'em are boys of a soldier, too!-and, father, I'm going to discharge Peter this minute if he don't get out the meat and chickens and pies and all the things we had left yesterday. Say, mayn't I? Isn't it our kitchen, father?" Secretary Seward was shaking with laughter. Mr. Lincoln turned to him with a twinkle. "Seward, advise with me. This case requires diplomacy." Mr. Seward patted Tad on the back and said he must be careful not to run the government into debt, and the President took Tad's little brown hands in his own big one, and with a droll smile bid him to "run along home and feed the boys," and added: "Tell Peter that you are really required to obey the Bible by getting in the maimed and the blind, and that he must be a better Christian than he is!" In less than an hour, Mr. Seward said they passed through the yard on their way to the Cabinet meeting, and no less than ten small boys were sitting with Tad on the lower steps. cracking nuts and having a "state dinner." Mr. Lincoln remarked that the "kitchen was ours." THE MINISTER'S BLUNDER Now, you know, there are anecdotes and anecdotes, short metre and long metre. I shall give you a long metre one, with a snapper at the end. It is about a Scotch-Irish minister who thought he was called to preach the Gospel, while he knew that he had the gift of oratory, and he never missed an opportunity to display it. An opportunity was afforded on the occasion of a christening. There was a considerable audience, made up of relatives, friends and neighbors of the parents. The preacher began by saying: "We have met together, my friends, on a very interesting occasion-the christening of this little child-but I see already a look of disappointment on your faces. Is it because this infant is so small? We must bear in mind that this globe upon which we live is made up of small things, infinitesimal objects, we might say. Little drops of water make the mighty ocean; the mountains which rear their hoary heads toward Heaven and are often lost in the clouds are made up of little grains of sand. Besides, my friends, we must take into consideration the possibilities in the life of this little speck of humanity. He may become a great preacher, multitudes may be swayed by his eloquence and brought to see and believe in the truths of the Gospel. He may become a distinguished physician, and his fame as a healer of men may reach the uttermost ends of the earth, and his name go down to posterity as one of the great benefactors of his kind. He may become a great astronomer, and may read the heavens as an open book. He may discover new stars which may be coupled with those of Newton and many other great discoverers. He may become a distinguished statesman and orator, and by the strength of his intellect and eloquence he may control the destinies of nations, and his name be engraved upon monuments erected to perpetuate his memory by his admiring and grateful countrymen. He may become an author and a poet, and his name may yet appear among those now entombed at Westminster. He may become a great warrior and lead armies to battle and victory; his prowess and valor may change the map of Europe. Methinks I hear the plaudits of the people at the mention of his deeds and name. He may become-er-er-he might-er- turning to the mother, "What is his name?" The mother, very much bewildered: "What is the baby's name?" "Yes, what is his name?" The mother: "Its name is Mary Ann." Mark Twain, in Ladies' Home Journal. IN A FRIENDLY SORT O' WAY When a man ain't got a cent, and he's feeling kind o blue, An' the clouds hang dark an' heavy, an' won't let the sun shine through, It's a great thing, O my brethren, for a feller just to lay |