In Christ accepted, Lord may we
The light of Thy salvation see;
Transformed by Thy free Spirit's grace,
Walk in the brightness of Thy face,
Thy favour crown each peaceful day,
Thy presence cheer each pleasant way;
And when we walk through sorrow's night,
At evening-time may there be light.

By every joy or grief we find

Our hearts to Thee more closely bind;
Trial and blessing, peace and pain,
All links in mercy's golden chain.
And when life's closing shadows come,
Oh, may they find us nearer home!
Then in our souls, with heaven in sight,
At evening-time may there be light!

J. D. BURNS.

Summer in the City.

HO is it comes in robes of fiery amber,

W

With languor in her hot and heavy breath,

Who's felt, not seen, within the poor man's chamber,

Wherein she dealeth fell disease and death?

O brothers, sisters, in these stagnant alleys
Lift up your voices; let your cry resound
Of longing for the breezy hills and valleys;
Where lavish flowers bestrew the happy ground;

Where birds are singing, and a thousand voices
Send forth the psalm of thanksgiving and praise;
Where waving wood and rippling rill rejoices
Through the fair length of these sweet summer days.

Cry ye, Our summer-time is joyless, dreary;
There is no gladness in the lengthening light
That only makes the loud long day more weary
Before it falls into the swoon of night.

No azure skies for us,-no daisied meadows,-
Beauty 's forgotten in this world of ours;
Our darkling lives are lived among the shadows,
Heaven's stars scarce farther from us than earth's flowers.

O Father, fill men's hearts with helpful pity
For these, Thy equal children as they are!
Poor haggard prisoners in the monster city
That maketh prey of all things pure and fair.

For if we happier ones could bring these others
Some of the blessings showered on us to share,
If we could lead our sisters and our brothers
Into Thy precious sunshine and sweet air,

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If we could make their darkened eyes see clearer

The light that to this lower world is given, Then might their starvéd souls at length feel nearer Unto Thy LOVE,—the other name for HEAVEN.

M. J. J.

Water Turned to Wine.

EAR friend, whose presence in the house,
Whose gracious word benign

Could once, at Cana's wedding feast,

Change water into wine,

Come, visit us! and when dull work

Grows weary, line on line,

Revive our souls, and let us see
Life's water turned to wine.

Gay mirth shall deepen into joy,
Earth's hopes grow half divine,
When Jesus visits us, to make
Life's water glow as wine.

The social talk, the evening fire,
The homely household shrine
Grow bright with angel visits, when

The Lord pours out the wine.

For when self-seeking turns to love

Not knowing mine nor thine,
The miracle again is wrought,

And water turned to wine.

J. F. CLARKE.

Fruitless Toil.

"Mine eye shall be upon the faithful of the land, that they may dwell with me: he that walketh in a perfect way, he shall serve me."

"He that loveth pureness of heart, for the grace of his lips the king shall be his friend."

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BORD, I have toiled all night,

And still unblessed my hand ;
Yet I will launch into the deep
Once more, at Thy command.

I hear triumphant songs

Swell from the banks around,

Each answering each with joyful cry,

But I no spoil have found.

Through long night watches past;
My heart is sick with hope deferred,
But Thou art come at last."

The fisher's hands hung down;

Dull was his heart, and faint, When a heavenly voice the silence broke And answered his complaint.

"When have I left thee, son,

That thou shouldst droop with fear? When hast thou sought my sympathy And hast not found Me near?

"Not fruitless is thy toil,

If thou my cross wouldst bear;
I do but ask thy willing heart
To grave my image there.

"For each net vainly cast

Stronger thine arm will prove;
The trial of thy patient hope
Is witness of thy love.

"The time, the place, the way,
Are open to mine eye:
I sent thee not to gather spoil
But labour patiently.

"My son, was not thy cry,

'Increase my faith, O Lord:

More of Thyself and more like Thee?' Behold, thy prayer is heard.