Thy Trust.

So then neglect it not, but use it rather

In service for thy God and fellow men ;

Then canst thou, when He comes, His own to gather, Return it richer to His hand again.

The morning must not break and find thee sleeping,
The night must never meet thee unaware :
Slack not thy toil, and in the time of reaping,
The balm of peace shall blossom everywhere.

Keep watch and ward to guard thy mouth securely,
Lest even thy friend thy counsels undermine,
No soul howe'er endowed can fathom surely

The wealth enshrined within the depths of thine.

Therefore cast not its pearls in common places,

Lest they be trampled by unmindful herds; The brook, o'erflowing, leaves disastrous traces, And thou shalt suffer loss from wasted words.

But when the Lord shall tell thee to deliver,
The message He has spoken in thy soul,
Like seasoned arrows from anointed quiver,

Send forth His truth, nor fear to send the whole.

93

91

The New Year.

Though friend desert thee for thy honest thinking, Though foe denounce thee with a lip unjust, Still each unwelcome cup God fills thee drinking, Keep that which is committed to thy trust.

Nor yet in self-denial must thou glory,

As though approved before the race is run : Go till thy ground-its fruit shall tell the story— And meekly wait for God to say "well done."

FRANCES E. POPE.

FOR THE NEW YEAR.

I stood on the brink of the closing year,
And mused on its loss and gain;
Its seasons of joy and of calm content,
Of sorrow and weary pain.

Of some of its paths I could see the end,
Could trace the designing hand;

While others were shrouded in mist and gloom,
And looked all confused, unplanned.

The New Year.

And thinking of all that might be beyond,
I cried in my dark dismay-

Oh! Saviour, I hardly know where Thou art,
And how can I know the way?

I tremble to think of the future scene,
The road that is new to me:

For how can I tell where its course may be,

Or what shall its issue be?

And soft through the stillness the answer came,
Pronounced by no mortal voice;

I listened with awe to the whispered words,
Which made all my heart rejoice-

“Have I been abiding so long with thee,
And yet hast thou never known,

That I am the way which thou hast to tread?
The end is the Father's Throne.

"Tis I who have given Myself to thee,

In whom thou mayst still abide;

Then walk thou in Me, as thy path through life; Thy refuge whate'er betide."

95

Yes, thus can I meet it in fearless peace,
The coming, unknown New Year;

I stand on its threshold, but dread it not,
If Jesus will be so near.

I know it will be by a perfect way
I travel life's journey through,
If hidden in Him who is perfect Love,
And perfect in wisdom too.

Himself the Director, Himself the Road;
What joy can this knowledge give.
My Way its beginning, its end, its all,
Is Jesus, in whom I live.

Here on His perfection I take my stand,
"Who all things performs for me."
Assured, since my God, is a perfect God,
That perfect His work will be.

ANNIE W. MARSTON.

The First Hymn to Christ.

97

THE FIRST HYMN TO CHRIST.

(Translated for the Evangelical Alliance from the Greek of
Clement of Alexandria, by Edward P. Weston.)

Christ! of tender lambs the Leader,
Shelter of each nestling bird,
Of our young the Guide and Pleader,
Let our song to Thee be heard :
While sweet praises each voice raises
To the everlasting Word.

King of saints, the all-prevailing
Message of the Father's grace,
Lord of wisdom, grief-assailing
Saviour of our mortal race;
Shepherd Jesus, guide and lead us
To Thy heavenly pasture-place!

Fisher in the sea of mortals,

Whom Thy grace alone can save,
Luring us from sin's dark portals,

Luring from the hostile wave:

H