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Fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul; but rather fear Him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell.


T seems singular to say that the source of courage
is fear; but it is none the less true. True courage
arises from the fear of God. This is well expressed by
the poet in the following verse :-

Fear Him, ye saints, and you will then
Have nothing else to fear;

His service your delight,

He'll make your wants His care. If we fear God we are sure that He will protect us, and therefore we are not afraid of any adversaries. We are never sure of the favour of men, however we may love and serve them ; so that if we do not fear God we shall always be liable to hardship and injury. Besides, our best friends, on whom we trust, may die or leave us : and we may be exposed to want and misery, without any one to help us. Again, we may fall ill, and what can they


then do for us? Can they stay the progress of the fiery fever that is burning us up, and say to the fell disease that is wasting our strength—“Thus far shalt thou


and no further?Men that fear nothing else fear death, and the only thing that will destroy the fear of death is the fear of God. This great fear overmasters all other fears. That man has true courage who fears God, for there is nothing else in the wide world that gives him trouble or apprehension. He feels at ease in the most terrific thunderstorm-God is guiding the path of the lightning ; he fears not man—the almighty arms of God are round him to protect him ; he fears not want—God will provide ; he fears not

.; sickness—he is in God's hands; he fears not death-God will be with him, His rod and staff will comfort him.

Fear is a dreadful tyrant—a very giant of oppression ; and numbers of people are in a state of abject slavery to it. Not content with the troubles of to-day, they fear what is coming to-morrow, the next day, the next week, and even the next year. They are afraid of a thousand dangers that never approach them; and they sorrow as much over them as though they actually felt them. Nothing will drive away all these wretched fears but the implanting in our minds of this great fear--the fear of God. Then the wise lesson which our Saviour taught us from the flowers, and which our readers will find in this month's “poem to be remembered,” they will be able to learn-

Live for to-day; to-morrow's light
To-morrow's cares shall bring to sight;
Go, sleep like closing flowers at night,

And Heaven thy morn shall bless. There is only too much reason for our fears. All our works are imperfect; we can do nothing as we ought; and often, through folly and negligence, we do not try our best to make it as good as we can. Then, again, we are so weak that we cannot remove scarcely any of the evils with which we are threatened. There are accidents in the streets, accidents on the railroad, accidents at school, accidents at home, and we are in jeopardy every hour. Nothing but the consciousness that we are under the protection of God will drive these fears away. And we read in the Magnificat, “ His mercy is on them that fear Him."

There is nothing slavish in this fear of God. We do not fear Him as a slave fears his master, but as a loving, obedient sou

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fears to offend a kind father. The more we fear God, the more we shall love Him; and every morning we pray for this fear, when we say—“Hallowed be Thy Name.” When we repeat the Lord's Prayer in future, let us in using these words pray heartily for the fear of God, so shall we dwell in peace and security all the days of our life.

Locms to be Remembered.


The poet here refers to flowers as being nursed by the skies, bathed in soft airs, and fed with dew. There is something akin to magic in them, for they exercise a strange influence on mankind. In the happy hours of childhood they are our gay companions; they soothe us in sorrow and sickness; and they cheer us in old age with the blessed prospect of a resurrection like their own.


WEET nurslings of the vernal skies,

Bathed in soft airs, and fed with dew,
What more than magic in you

To fill the heart's fond view !
In childhood's sports, companions gay;
In sorrow, on life's downward way,
How soothing ! in our last decay

Memorials prompt and true. He regards them as relics of the Garden of Eden ; as beautiful as when they rejoiced the hearts of our first parents, Adam and Eve. All the world besides has fallen, but they have not lost their purity and loveliness.

Relics ye are of Eden's bowers,

As pure, as fragrant, and as fair
As when ye crowned the sunshine hours

Of happy wanderers there.
Fallen all beside—the world of life,
How is it stained with fear and strife !
In Reason's world what storms are rife,

What passions range and glare ! But, while other forms of life have suffered so visible a ruin, the flowers are the same as when Eve smiled upon them in the Garden of Eden. The stars are beautiful, too, but our human thought is unable to follow their wondrous courses ; whereas the lowliest man, woman, or child may learn wisdom and obtain comfort from the flowers.

But, cheerful and unchanged the while,

Your first and perfect form ye show,
The same that won Eve's matron smile

In the world's opening glow.
The stars of heaven a course are taught
Too high above our human thought;
Ye may be found if ye are sought,

And as we gaze, we know. The next verse is surpassingly beautiful. The simple flowers dwell around our sinful paths and sorrowful homes, allowing guilty man, wherever he wanders, to borrow their innocent mirth. The birds of the air are bright and beautiful, and we are cheered with their songs; but they fly from us as though they could not bear to look upon our guilt and misery: whereas the flowers are always with us, and we can visit them day by day.

Ye dwell beside our paths and homes

Our paths of sin, our homes of sorrow-
And guilty man, where'er he roams,

Your innocent mirth may borrow.
The birds of air before us fleet,
They cannot brook our shame to meet;
But we may taste your solace sweet

And come again to-morrow. The flowers abide fearless in their nests in the field or garden. The lessons which they silently teach us none but meek and lowly hearts can learn. These lessons must not be despised, for the Great Teacher Himself taught us how to admire them : “ Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow. They toil not, neither do they spin; and yet I say unto you, that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these." (St. Matthew vi., 28.)

Ye fearless in your nests abide ;

Nor may we scorn—too proudly wise-
Your silent lessons, undescried

By all but lowly eyes;
For ye could draw the admiring gaze
Of Him who worlds and hearts surveys :
Your order wild, your fragrant maze,

He taught us how to prize. At that hour, the poet thinks, the flowers felt the blessing of Christ, their Maker--a renewal of the first blessing He gave them at their creation. “And the earth brought forth grass and herb, yielding seed after his kind ; and the tree yielding fruit, whose seed was in itself, after his kind : and God saw that it was good.” (Genesis i., 12.) They care not now if the rough storms of winter destroy their delicate forms; the blessing of Christ cheers them in every trouble, so that nothing is able to vex them.

Ye felt your Maker's smile that hour,

As when he paused, and owned you good;
His blessing on earth's primal bower

Ye felt it all renewed.


What care ye now if winter's storm
Sweeps ruthless o’er each silken form ?
Christ's blessing at your heart is warm,

Ye fear no vexing mood. But, of the thousands of persons who love and admire flowers, how few are able to find the secret why they are so lovely. The poet tells it them. “Take, therefore, no thought for the morrow; for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof." (St. Matthew vi., 34.) The greater part of human sorrow arises from evils which appear in the distance, but are never felt. If we made up our minds that there was sufficient gloom in time present, without borrowing the woes of to-morrow, our lives would be far brighter and happier than they are.

Alas ! of thousand bosoms kind

That daily court you and caress,
How few the happy secret find

Of your caim loveliness !
“ Live for to-day! to-morrow's light

To-morrow's cares shall bring to sight;
Go, sleep like closing flowers at night,
And Heaven thy morn will bless.”

JOHN KEBLE. (Those who appreciate this manner of opening up the meaning of poetry to

children, will find the most popular poems in the language so dealt with in John Heywood's Explanatory Book of Standard Poetry, 160 pages, price One Shilling.)

Gulliver in Lilliput.


HE first request I made, after I had obtained my

liberty, was that I might have license to see the
metropolis, which the emperor easily granted me,
but with a special charge to do no hurt either to
the inhabitants or their houses. The people had
notice by proclamation of my design to visit the

town. I stepped over the great western gate, and passed very gently through the two principal streets, only in my short waistcoat, for fear of damaging the roofs and eaves of the houses with the skirts of my coat. I walked with the utmost circumspection, to avoid treading on any stragglers who might remain in the streets, although the orders were very strict that

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