Little Barbara's Hymn.

But her sobs were stilled, and her cheek grew dry As she listened to Barbara, passing by :

"Whether we sleep, or whether we wake, We are His who gave His life for our sake."

A sufferer lay on his bed of pain,

With burning brow and throbbing brain ;
The notes of the child were heard once more,
As she chanted low at his open door:

"Whether we sleep, or whether we wake, We are His who gave His life for our sake.”

Once again, as the day passed by,

And the shades of the evening-time drew nigh,
Like the voice of a friend or the carol of birds,
Came back to his thoughts those wholesome words:
"Whether we sleep, or whether we wake,
We are His who gave His life for our sake.”

Alike in all hearts, as the years went on,
The infant's voice rose up anon,

In the grateful words that cheered their way,
Of the hymn little Barbara sang that day:

"Whether we sleep, or whether we wake, We are His who gave His life for our sake.”

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Perhaps, when the labour of life is done,
And they lay down their burdens, one by one,
Forgetting forever these days of pain,

They will take up together the sweet refrain:
"Whether we sleep, or whether we wake,
We are His who gave His life for our sake."

LITTLE THINGS.

It was only a smile of welcome,
Or a whispered word of cheer;

But it smoothed the path for the tired feet,
And lightened the load of care.

It was only a loving visit,

Perhaps but a loaf of bread;

"But ye visited Me" will the Master say,
""Twas your Lord whom ye clothed and fed."

It was only a tender message

To a heart bowed down with woe:

But from that one seed by the wayside dropped,
Shall a harvest of blessings grow.

Little Things.

It was only a few words spoken,

We thought they were weak and poor;

But they told of Christ and His wondrous love
As the guilt of the world He bore.

And the Lord from His height of glory
Hath listened our words to hear;

For us is a book of remembrance kept,
And our names are engraven there.

It may not be ours to render

The service our hearts would crave;

He may give us no words that shall win a soul, Or a life from destruction save.

But often along the wayside,

As we journey life's rugged road,

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We shall find some hearts that have need of help, Who are fainting beneath their load.

And though small is the help we can offer,
If it only be offered in love,

It will carry a blessing to earth's sad ones,
And be known and remembered above.

F

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The Happy Choice.

And the dear Lord when He cometh,

Will bring us a great reward;

"Thou hast faithfully done the few things I gave,

Enter into the joy of thy Lord."

THE HAPPY CHOICE.

Luke x. 22.

Have I chosen Jesus?
Then I'll not repine,
If some little portion

Of His cross be mine.

Have I chosen Jesus ?
Then, upon His breast,

Every weary longing

Soon will find its rest.

Have I chosen Jesus?

Then I've nought to fear :

Satan cannot harm me

With my Saviour near.

S. M. H.