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“Rock of Ages, cleft for me”—
Sung above a coffin-lid;
Underneath, all restfully,

All life's joys and sorrows hid,
Never more, O storm-tossed soul!
Never more from wind or tide,
Never more from billows' roll,
Wilt thou need thyself to hide.
Could the sightless, sunken eyes,
Closed beneath the soft grey hair,
Could the mute and stiffened lips
Move again in pleading prayer,
Still, aye still, the words would be,
"Let me hide myself in Thee!"

THEY SHALL BE MINE.

"THEY shall be Mine!" Oh! lay them down to slumber,

Calm in the strong assurance that He gives;

He calls them by their names, He knows their number, And they shall live as surely as He lives.

"They shall be Mine!" upraised from earthly pillows,
Gathered from desert sand, from mountains cold-
Called from the graves beneath old ocean's billows,
Called from each distant land, each scattered fold.

Well might the soul, that wondrous spark of being,
Lit by His breath who claims it for His own,
Shine in the circle which His love foreseeing,
Destined to glitter brightest by His throne.

But shall the dust from earthly dust first taken,
And now long mingled with its native earth,
To life, to beauty, once again awaken,

Thrill with the rapture of a second birth?

"They shall be Mine!" they, as on earth we knew them

The lips we kissed, the hand we loved to press;
Only a fuller life be circling through them,
Unfading youth, unchanging holiness.

"They shall be Mine!" children of sin and sorrow,
Giv'st Thou, O Lord! heaven's almost verge to them?
No; from each rifled grave Thy crown shall borrow
An added light-a prize and costly gem.

"They shall be Mine!" thought fails, and feeling falters,

Striving to sound and fathom Love divine;

All that we know-no time Thy promise alters;
All that we trust-our loved ones shall be Thine.

From "Changed Cross."

SCHOOL LIFE.

I SAT in the school of sorrow,
The Master was teaching there ;
But my eyes were dim with weeping,
And my heart was full of care.

Instead of looking upward,

And seeing His face divine,
So full of the tenderest pity,
For weary hearts like mine,

I only thought of the burden,
The Cross that before me lay;
So hard and heavy to carry,
That it darkened the light of day.
So I could not learn my lesson,

And say, "Thy will be done!"
And the Master came not near me,
As the weary hours went on.
At last, in my heavy sorrow,

I looked from the Cross above;
And I saw the Master watching
With a glance of tender love.
He turned to the Cross before me,
And I thought I heard Him say,—
"My child-thou must bear thy burden,
And learn thy task to-day.

"I

may

not tell the reason,

'Tis enough for thee to know,
That I, the Master, am teaching,
And give this cup of woe.”
So I stooped to that weary sorrow;
One look at that face divine

Had given me power to trust Him,
And say, "Thy will, not mine."
And thus I learnt my lesson,
Taught by the Master alone;
He only knows the tears I shed,
For He has wept His own.
But from them came a brightness,
Straight from the Home above,
Where the school life will be ended,
And the Cross will show the love.
ELIZABETH A. GODWIN.

ONE BY ONE.

ONE by one the sands are flowing,
One by one the moments fall ;—
Some are coming, some are going,

Do not strive to grasp them all.

One by one thy duties wait thee,

Let thy whole strength go to each; Let no future dreams elate thee,

Learn thou first what these can teach.

One by one (bright gifts from heaven),
Joys are sent thee here below,
Take them readily when given—
Ready, too, to let them go.

One by one thy griefs shall meet thee,
Do not fear an armed band;

One will fade while others greet theeShadows passing through the land.

Do not look at life's long sorrow,

See how small each moment's pain; God will help thee for to-morrow— Every day begin again.

Every hour that fleets so slowly
Has its task to do or bear;
Luminous the crown, and holy,
If thou set each gem with care.
Do not linger with regretting,

Or for passion's hour despond;
Nor, the daily toil forgetting,
Look too eagerly beyond.

L

Hours are golden links, God's token
Reaching heaven; but one by one
Take them, lest the chain be broken
Ere the pilgrimage be done.

A. A. PROCTOR.

MARY

AT THE TOMB OF JESUS.

HE who moved invisible to man, To guardian woman did Himself reveal,As Mary, weeping, by the tomb remained, And bowed within its rocky depth to gaze, Two angel-watchers, robed in dazzling white, Were seated, where the vanished body lay! "Why weepest thou?" with gentlest tone they cried; "Because I know not where my stolen Lord Be taken;"-back she turned her eye of tears, And there stood Jesus! but to her unknown. "Why weepest thou?" again was mildly heard : Then Mary, with mistaking love, replied,

"If thou hast borne Him from this garden-tomb,
Oh! tell me where ;-these hands will take him
thence."

But Jesus, vocal with His wonted voice,
Responded, "Mary!" and the mourner fell
Down at His feet! Rabboni she adored!
Let one at midnight, when the cradling sea
Hath rocked his slumber, and a dream of home
In murmuring faintness to the soul renews
Parental language, till his ocean-sleep

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