And his maiden's, dear and true,
With the deeds that he may do.
Be his days as dark as night,
He may make himself a light.
What though sunken be his sun ?
There are stars when day is done!

Courage! Who will be a slave,
That hath strength to dig a grave,
And therein his fetters hide,
And lay a tyrant by his side?
Courage!-Hope, howe'er he fly
For a time, can never die!
Courage, therefore, brother men!
Courage! To the fight again!

-Barry Cornwall.

CCXV.-WHAT TIME IS IT?

WHAT time is it?

Time to do well;

Time to live better;

Give up that grudge;

Answer that letter;

Speak that kind word, to sweeten a sorrow;

Do that good deed you would leave till to-morrow.
Time to try hard

In that new situation;

Time to build up on

A solid foundation.

Giving up needlessly, changing and drifting;
Leaving the quicksands that ever are shifting.

What time is it?
Time to be thrifty;

Farmers, take warning-
Plow in the springtime;

Sow in the morning;

Spring rain is coming, zephyrs are blowing;
Heaven will attend to the quickening and growing.

Time to count cost;

Lessen expenses;
Time to look well

To the gates and the fences:

Making and mending, as good workers should;
Shutting out evil and keeping the good.

What time is it?

Time to be earnest,

Laying up treasure;
Time to be thoughtful,

Choosing true pleasure;

Loving stern justice—of truth being fond;
Making your word just as good as your bond.
Time to be happy,

Doing your best;
Time to be trustful,
Leaving the rest;

Knowing in whatever country or clime,
Ne'er can we call back one minute of time.

CCXVI.

THE OLD MAN IN THE STYLISH CHURCH.

WELL, wife, I've been to church to-day-been to a stylish oneAnd, seein' you can't go from home, I'll tell you what was done;

You would have been surprised to see what I saw there to-day; The sisters were fixed up so fine they hardly bowed to pray.

I had on these coarse clothes of mine-not much the worse for

wear

But, then, they knew I was n't one they call a millionaire; So they led the old man to a seat away back by the door; 'T was bookless and uncushioned, a reserved seat for the poor.

Pretty soon in came a stranger with gold rings and clothing fine;

They led him to a cushioned seat far in advance of mine;
I thought that wa'n't exactly right to seat him up so near,
When he was young, and I was old, and very hard to hear.

But then there's no accountin' for what some people do;
The finest clothing nowadays oft gets the finest pew;

But when we reach the blessed home, all undefiled by sin,
We'll see wealth beggin' at the gate while poverty goes in.

I could n't hear the sermon, I sat so far away,

So, through the hours of service, I could only "watch and pray,"

Watch the doin's of the Christians sitting near me, round about; Pray that God would make them pure within as they were pure

without.

While I sat there, lookin' all around upon the rich and great,
I kept thinking of the rich man and the beggar at his gate;
How, by all but dogs forsaken, the poor beggar's form grew cold,
And the angels bore his spirit to the mansions built of gold;
How at last the rich man perished, and his spirit took its flight
From the purple and fine linen to the home of endless night;
There he learned, as he stood gazin' at the beggar in the sky,
"It is n't all of life to live, nor all of death to die."

I doubt not there were wealthy sires in that religious fold
Who went up from their dwellings like the Pharisee of old;
Then returned home from their worship with a head uplifted
high,

To spurn the hungry from their door with naught to satisfy.
Out, out! with such professions; they are doin' more to-day
To stop the weary sinner from the gospel's shinin' way
Than all the books of infidels; than all that has been tried
Since Christ was born in Bethlehem-since Christ was crucified.
How simple are the works of God, and yet how very grand!
The shells in ocean caverns-the flowers on the land-

He gilds the cloud of evenin' with the gold light from his throne,

Not for the rich man only; not for the poor alone.

Then why should man look down on man because of lack of gold?

Why seat him in the poorest pew because his clothes are old?
A heart with noble motives-a heart that God has blest-
May be beatin' heaven's music 'neath that faded coat and vest.

I am old-I may be childish-but I love simplicity;

I love to see it shinin' in a Christian's piety;

Jesus told us in His sermons, in Judea's mountains wild,

He that wants to go to heaven must be like a little child.

Our heads are growing gray, dear wife-our hearts are beatin' slow

In a little while the Master will call for us to go;

When we reach the pearly gateways, and look in with joyful

eyes,

We'll see no stylish worship in the temple of the skies.

-John H. Yates.

CCXVII.-SHORT SELECTIONS.

CONTENT.

THE bliss of man (could pride that blessing find)

Is not to act or think beyond mankind,

No pow'rs of body or of soul to share,

But what his nature and his state can bear.
Why has not man a microscopic eye?

For this plain reason, man is not a fly.
Say for what use were finer optics given?
T inspect a mite, not comprehend the heaven.
Or touch, if tremblingly alive all o'er,

To smart and agonize at every pore!

Or quick effluvia darting through the brain,

Die of a rose in aromatic pain!

If nature thund'red in his op'ning ears,

And stunned him with the music of the spheres,
How would he wish that heaven had left him still
The whisp'ring zephyr, and the purling rill?
Who finds not Providence all good and wise,
Alike in what it gives and what denies?

SUSPICION.

LET me have men about me that are fat,
Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o' nights!
Yond' Cassius has a lean and hungry look;
He thinks too much; such men are dangerous.

- Pope.

Would he were fatter:-But I fear him not;
Yet if my name were liable to fear,

I do not know the man I should avoid

So soon as that spare Cassius.

CONSCIENCE.

It is a dang'rous

Thing; it makes a man a coward.

-Shakespeare.

A man

Can not steal but it accuseth him. A man

Can not swear but it checks him:
'Tis a blushing, shame-fac'd spirit, that
Mutinies in a man's bosom; it fills

One full of obstacles. It made me once
Restore a purse of gold, that by chance I
Found. It beggars any man that keeps it.
It is turned out of towns and cities for
A dang'rous thing; and every man that means
To live well, endeavors to trust to himself,
And live without it.

-Shakespeare.

CCXVIII.—A THRILLING INCIDENT.

THE world of fiction hardly contains a more thrilling chapter than an incident in the life of the Rev. Mr. Lee, Presbyterian minister.

Mr. Lee was sitting in his study about midnight, preparing a discouse to deliver to his congregation, when he heard a noise behind him, and became conscious that some one was in the room. Mr. Lee exclaimed, "What's the matter?" and, turning around his chair, beheld the grim face of a burglar, who was pointing a pistol at his breast. The ruffian had entered the house by a side window, supposing all the occupants were asleep.

"Give me your watch and money," said he, "or I will fire." "You may put down your weapons, for I shall make no resistance, and you are at liberty to take all the valuables that I possess," was Mr. Lee's calm reply.