Who would be more,

Swelling through store,

Forfeit their Paradise by their pride.

GEORGE HERBERT.

"MY TIMES ARE IN THY HAND."

FATHER, I know that all my life

Is portioned out for me,

And the changes that are sure to come

I do not fear to see;

But I ask Thee for a present mind

Intent on pleasing Thee.

I ask Thee for a thoughtful love,
Through constant watching wise,
To meet the glad with joyful smiles,
And to wipe the weeping eyes;
And a heart at leisure from itself,
To soothe and sympathise.

I would not have the restless will
That hurries to and fro,

Seeking for some great thing to do,

Or secret thing to know;

I would be treated as a child,

And guided where I go.

Wherever in the world I am,

In whatsoe'er estate,

I have a fellowship with hearts
To keep and cultivate;

And a work of lowly love to do

For the Lord on whom I wait.

So I ask Thee for the daily strength
To none that ask denied,

And a mind to blend with outward life,
While keeping at Thy side;
Content to fill a little space,
If Thou be glorified.

And if some things I do not ask
In my cup of blessing be,

I would have my spirit filled the more
With grateful love to Thee-

More careful not to serve Thee much, But to please Thee perfectly.

There are briars besetting every path,
That call for patient care;

There is a cross in every lot,

And an earnest need for prayer ; But a lowly heart that leans on Thee Is happy anywhere.

In a service which Thy will appoints,

There are no bonds for me;

For my inmost heart is taught "the truth”

That makes Thy children "free;' And a life of self-renouncing love

Is a life of liberty.

Hope.

THE WORLD'S AGE.

HO will say the world is dying?
Who will say our prime is past?
Sparks from Heaven, within us lying,
Flash, and will flash till the last,
Fools! who fancy Christ mistaken;
Man a tool to buy and sell;
Earth a failure, God-forsaken,
Anteroom of Hell.

Still the race of Hero-spirits

Pass the lamp from hand to hand;
Age from age the Words inherits—
"Wife, and Child, and Fatherland."
Still the youthful hunter gathers

Fiery joy from wold and wood;
He will dare, as dared his fathers,
Give him cause as good.

While a slave bewails his fetters;
While an orphan pleads in vain ;
While an infant lisps his letters,
Heir of all the ages' gain;

While a lip grows ripe for kissing;
While a moan from man is wrung;
Know, by every want and blessing,
That the world is young.

CHARLES KINGSLEY.

WHAT ARE WE HERE?

WHAT We, when face to face we see
The Father of our souls, shall be,
John tells us, doth not yet appear;
Ah, did he tell what we are here!

A mind for thoughts to pass into,
A heart for loves to travel through,
Five senses to detect things near,
Is this the whole that we are here?

Rules baffle instincts-instincts rules,
Wise men are bad-and good are fools,
Facts evil-wishes vain appear,

We cannot go, why are we here?