And so from the land, the Border Land,
I have turned me to earth once more.

But earth and its works were such trifles, scanned
By the light of that radiant shore.

And oh! should they ever possess me again
Too deeply, in heart and hand,

I must think how empty they seemed and vain,
From the heights of the Border Land.

The Border Land had depths and vales,
Where sorrow for sin was known;

Where small seemed great, as weighed in scales,
Held by God's hand alone.

"Twas a land where earthly pride was naught

Where the poor were brought to mind, With their scanty bed, their fireless cot, And their bread, so hard to find.

But little I heard in the Border Land,
Of all that passed below;

The once loud voices of human life
To the deafened ear were low.

I was deaf to the clang of its trumpet call,
And alike to its gibe or its sneer;
Its riches were dust, and the loss of all
Would then scarce have cost a tear.

I met with a Friend in this Border Land,
Whose teachings can come with power
To the blinded eye and the deafened ear.
In affliction's loneliest hour

"Times of refreshing" to the soul,

In languor oft He brings,
Prepares it then to meditate
On high and glorious things.

O! Holy Ghost! too often grieved
In health and earthly haste,

I bless those slow and silent hours
Which seemed to run to waste.

I would not but have passed those "depths,"
And such communion known,

As can be held in the Border Land,
With Thee, and Thee alone.

I have been to a land, a Border Land!
May oblivion never roll

O'er the mighty lessons which there and then
Have been graven on my soul !

I have trodden a path I did not know,
Safe in my Saviour's hand;

I can trust Him for all the future, now
I have been to the Border Land.

L. N. R.

OUR ONE LIFE.

'Tis not for man to trifle Life is brief;

Our age

And sin is here,

is but the falling of a leaf—

A dropping tear,

We have no time to sport away the hours;

All must be earnest in a world like ours.

Not many lives, but only one have we—
One, only one :

How sacred should that one life ever be―
That narrow span!

Day after day filled with blessed toil-
Hour after hour still bringing in new spoil.

Our being is no shadow of thin air-
No vacant dream-

No fable of the things that never were,
But only seem ;

"Tis full of meaning as of mystery,

Though strange and solemn may that meaning be.

Our sorrows are no phantom of the night—
No idle tale ;-

No cloud that floats along a sky of light,
On summer gale:

They are the true realities of earth,—
Friends and companions even from our birth.

O life below-how brief, and poor, and sad!
One heavy sigh,

O life above-how long, how fair, and glad!
An endless joy.

Oh! to be done with daily dying here!
Oh, to begin the living in yon sphere!

O day of time, how dark! O sky and earth,
How dull you're here!

O day of Christ, how bright! O sky and earth
Made new and fair!

Come, better Eden, with thy fresher green;
Come brighter Salem, gladden all the scene.

BONAR.

SPEAK GENTLY.

SPEAK gently! it is better far
To rule by love than fear;

Speak gently! let not harsh words mar
The good we might do here.

Speak gently! Love doth whisper low The vows that true hearts bind; And gently friendship's accents flow : Affection's voice is kind.

Speak gently to the little child;
Its love be sure to gain ;
Teach it in accents soft and mild-
It may not long remain.

Speak gently to the young, for they
Will have enough to bear—
Pass through this life as best they may,
"Tis full of anxious care.

Speak gently to the aged one;

Grieve not the care-worn heart; The sands of life are nearly run; Let such in peace depart.

Speak gently, kindly to the poor;
Let no harsh tone be heard;
They have enough they must endure,
Without an unkind word.

Speak gently to the erring-know
How frail are all ! how vain!
Perchance unkindness made them so ;
Oh! win them back again.

Speak gently! He who gave His life
To bend man's stubborn will,
When elements were fierce with strife,
Said to them, "Peace-be still."

Speak gently! 'tis a little thing
Dropped in the heart's deep well;
The good, the joy which it may bring,
Eternity shall tell.

G. W. LANGFORD.

HYMN OF THE VAUDOIS MOUNTAINEERS

IN TIMES OF PERSECUTION.

"Thanks be to God for the mountains."

HOWITT'S Book of the Seasons.

FOR the strength of the hills we bless Thee;
Our God, our fathers' God!

Thou hast made Thy children mighty,

By the touch of the mountain-sod.

Thou hast fixed our ark of refuge

Where the spoiler's foot ne'er trod;
For the strength of the hills we bless Thee,
Our God, our fathers' God !