The time is short! He cometh,
Whose love hath set thy task,—
A crown of life His guerdon!
What other would'st thou ask?
But let thy consolation

In toil and vigil be,

There remaineth, there remaineth

A Sabbath rest for thee!

H

From "Songs of Christian Chivalry."

Hope Still.

OPE still though darkness round thee
spread,

Count mercy in the cloud o'erhead,
And lean thee upon God.

Wait for the strength the Lord will send :
He that endureth to the end

Shall win the crown at last;

Nor will he mourn the way was dim,—
Christ trod a darker way for him,
And clasps his weak hand fast.

"Only believe." Oh, wondrous words!
That wake the doubting soul's dull chords,
That Jesus pleaded thus.

"Only believe." Oh, Lord of light,

Help us to watch for Thee by night,

Who watched all night for us.

ANNA SHIPTON.

FOR VISITORS OF THE SICK.

Seed Time and Harbest.

"They that sow in tears shall reap in joy. He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him."

O forth! though weeping, bearing precious seed ;
Still sow in faith, though not a blade appears;
Go forth the Lamb Himself the way doth lead,

The everlasting arms are o'er thee spread :
Thou'lt reap in joy all thou hast sown in tears.

Take up thy burden-bear it joyfully:

Fear not sin's darkest cave to enter in; Though fierce thy foe, yet Israel's Lord is nigh, And o'er thy fellow-men He hears thee sigh, Seeking for Him thou lov'st a soul to win.

Go forth! there is no shadow on thy brow,

No tear that rises, no swift cry to bless
The grain thou bearest,—but He heedeth. Thou
Shalt soon rejoice,—joy breaketh even now:
On to the mark of thy high calling press.

The pastures of the wilderness may mock

Thine earnest labours. Look thou to the hills:
God shall the chambers of His dew unlock,
Till living waters from the smitten rock
With fertilizing streams each furrow fills.

Ask not for sheaves! A holy patience keep:
Look for the early and the latter rain;
For all that faith hath scattered love shall reap.
Gladness is sown: thy Lord may let thee weep,

But not one tear of thine shall be in vain.

'Tis thy Beloved gently beckons on,—

His love illumes for thee each passing cloud; When yon fair land of light at last is won,

And seed time o'er, and harvest work begun,

He'll own the fruit that shadows now enshroud.

Behold, the Master standeth at the door!

Cry for Sabaoth's-raise thou thy voice.

Short hour of labour: soon it shall be o'er,—
The dawn is breaking: night shall be no more,
And thou, with Him who reaps, shalt then rejoice.
From "Whispers in the Psalms."

For Visitors of the Sick.

ORD, lead the way the Saviour went,
By lane and cell obscure,

And let love's treasure still be spent,

Like His, upon the poor;

Like Him, through scenes of deep distress
Who bore the world's sad weight,
We in their crowded loneliness

Would seek the desolate.

For Thou hast placed us side by side
In this wide world of ill,

And that Thy followers may be tried
The poor are with us still.

Mean are all offerings we can make,
But Thou hast taught us, Lord,
If given for the Saviour's sake
They lose not their reward.

WILLIAM CROSWELL.

The Ministry of Song.

N God's great field of labour All work is not the same; He hath a service for each one Who loves His holy Name. And you to whom the secret

Of all sweet sounds is known, Rise up, for He hath called you To a mission of your own; And rightly to fulfil it

His grace can make you strong, Who to your charge hath given The Ministry of Song.

Sing to the little children,
And they will listen well;

Sing grand and holy music,
For they can feel its spell;
Tell them the tale of Jephtha,

Then sing them what he said,Deeper and deeper still; and watch How the little cheek grows red, And the little breath comes quicker. They will never forget the tale Which the song has fastened surely As with a golden nail.