passing, and you are passing, you will say with St. Paul, "I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is far better."

What, though before me it is dark,

Too dark for one to see?

I ask but light for one step more,
'Tis quite enough for me.

Each little humble step I take,

The gloom clears from the next;
So, though 'tis very dark beyond,
I never am perplex'd.

And if sometimes the mist hangs close,
So close, I fear to stray,
Patient, I wait a little while,

And soon it clears away.

I would not see my further path,
For mercy veils it so;

My present steps might harder be

Did I the future know.

It may be that my path is rough,
Thorny, and hard, and steep;
And knowing this, my strength might fail
Through fear and terror deep.

It may be that it winds along
A smooth and flowery way;
But, seeing this, I might despise
The journey of to-day.

Perhaps my path is very short,

My journey nearly done;

And I might tremble at the thought

Of ending it so soon.

Or, if I saw a weary length

Of road that I must wend,

Fainting, I'd think, "my feeble powers

Will fail me ere the end."

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And so I do not wish to see

My journey, or its length:

Assured that, through my Father's love,
Each step will bring its strength.

Thus, step by step, I onward go,
Not looking far before;

Trusting that I shall always have

Light for just "one step more."

"THIS IS INDEED THE CHRIST."

JOHN iv. 42.

Is there one whose conscience accuses him of a past life of forgetfulness of God, of having set His laws at defiance, abused His blessings and gifts, despised His warnings and counsels, grieved the Holy Spirit, crucified to Himself afresh the Son of God, and put Him to an open shame? Backslider, wanderer from God, whose sins rise like mountains before thee, shutting out all hope and mercy, behold the Saviour at this well. See him travelling nearly forty miles under the heat of a burning sun, to convince, pardon, and bless this sinner. He who entered Samaria's outcast city will enter thy guilty heart. He who pardoned her will pardon thee. He who filled her soul with living water will fill thine also. A Saviour's voice can still reach you. A Saviour's blood can still wash away your sins. Listen to the glad sound of welcome from one who proved it. Come, backslider, and see this Man, Christ Jesus. Come and talk with Him as she did. Come and open thy heart to Him. Come and see how gracious Christ is. Come and taste of pardon

ing mercy, of joy unspeakable, of love passing knowledge. Come and drink of this "living water."

Is there one whose past history is defaced with deep, dark blots of sin, involving, perhaps, the ruin of his fellow-man's happiness, with crimes of deepest dye, transgressions and iniquities too gross to be mentioned, too foul for inspection, making conscience tremble, and the countenance blush-such crimes as none but Satan could suggest, and none but a Satanic spirit could accomplish? Turn, guilty one, to this well of Sychar. Say not, "There is no hope for me." Despair not, though thy past life may be scarlet and crimson-dyed with sin. There is hope for thee-even for thee. He who met this guilty sinner and revealed her life of secret sin, not to upbraid or condemn, but to have mercy and to save, will have mercy on thee. Oh, come and see this Man, Christ Jesus! Come and bathe His feet with thy tears. Come, and, alone with Him, smite upon thy breast and say, "God be merciful to me, a sinner! He will not break the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flax. He will heal thy backsliding. He will love thee freely. Oh, come and see! "taste and see that the Lord is gracious!"

And make haste, for time's sun is fast setting. See that God's offers of mercy be not spurned. Up! and rouse you from your sleep of carnal indifference, ere it be too late! The Saviour still lingers in mercy in the midst of this Samaritan world. Soon He may quit our shores for ever.

Soon the glad sound of redeeming love may cease to be heard in your ears. A few more breathings of this world's atmosphere, and your sun may set in darkness for ever. Oh, go not down to the grave with your work undone, and your soul unsaved! Fly to His arms of mercy, still outstretched to enfold you. Your past life has gone with all its sins to the bar of God-you cannot recall it. Your present may be hung with the drapery of sorrow and tears, and bitter reproaches. But the future— that is yours, by the help and blessing of God. Up, and seize its fleeting moments! The dark cloud may yet have its sunset of gold. The summer that is ended may yet have its redeeming tints of autumnal beauty, ere the long winter night of death has set in. Awake, then, and redeem the time! Go, wash in a Saviour's blood! Go, lay hold of the horns of the altar! Flee quickly to the city of refuge! "Look not behind thee, neither stay thou in all the plain. Escape to the mountain, lest thou be consumed." "He that hath an ear, let

Him hear what the Spirit saith unto the churches." "The Spirit and the bride say, Come. And let him that heareth say, Come. And let him that is athirst And whosoever will, let him take the water

come.

of life freely."

In sin and in sorrow

Thou hast travelled along,

Thou hast loved the vain pleasures

Of the world's giddy throng,