Only an instrument ready, Oh to be nothing-nothing, Though painful the humbling be; Though it lay me low in the sight of those Who are now, perhaps, praising me. I would rather be nothing, nothing, That to Him be their voices raised, Who alone is the Fountain of blessing, Who alone is meet to be praised. Yet e'en as my pleading rises, A voice seems with mine to blend, And whispers in loving accents, "I call thee not servant, but friend. Fellow-worker with Me I call thee, Sharing my sorrows and joyFellow-heir to the glory I have above, To treasure without alloy." Oh, love so free, so boundless, To have nothing dividing my heart, My "all" given up to Jesus, Not "keeping back a part." Thine may I be, Thine only, Till called by Thee to share To see Thee face to face, With unfettered tongue to praise Thee G. M. T. HE LIVETH LONG WHO LIVETH WELL. HE liveth long who liveth well! He liveth long who liveth well! Of true things truly done each day. Waste not thy being; back to Him, Be wise, and use thy wisdom well; How first he lived, then spoke, the true. Be what thou seemest; live thy creed ; Let the great Master's steps be thine. Fill up each hour with what will last; Sow truth, if thou the true wouldst reap; Sow love, and taste its fruitage pure; BONAR. THE DAY IS AT HAND! POOR fainting spirit, still hold on thy way— True, thou art weary; but yon brightening ray Bear up a little longer-wait for rest Yield not to slumber, though with toil opprest. The night of life is mournful-but look on- Soon will earth's shadowy scenes and forms be gone- The mountain's summit will ere long be gained, "Joyful through life," thy motto still must be; What glories will that dawn unfold to thee! Gird up thy loins; bind sandals on thy feet, CHARLOTTE ELLIOTT. THE PURER PATH. No bird-song floated down the hill; The dusk of twilight round us grew; But on the river's farther side With us the damp, the chill, the gloom ; From out the darkness, where we trod, We paused as if, from that bright shore, Sudden our pathway turned from night ; Through their green gates the sunshine showed; Down glade and glen and bank it rolled; "So," prayed we, "when our feet drew near The river, dark with mortal fear, |