The last that sailed, her name was Faith;
Slowly she took her passage forth,
Tacked, and lay to; at last she steered
A straight course for the north.

My gallant ships, they sailed away, Over the shimmering summer sea. I stood at watch for many a day:But one came back to me.

For Joy was caught by Pirate Pain;
Hope ran upon a hidden reef,
And Love took fire and foundered fast,
In whelming seas of grief.

Faith came at last: storm-beat and torn,
She recompensed me all my loss,
For as a cargo safe she brought

A crown linked to a cross.

The Boston Cultivator.

PATIENT

I WAS not patient in that olden time When my unchastened heart began

to long

For bliss that lay beyond its reach; my prime

Was wild, impulsive, passionate, and

strong.

I could not wait for happiness and love, Heaven-sent, to come and nestle in my breast;

I could not realize how time might prove That patient waiting would avail me best.

"Let me be happy now," my heart cried out,

"In mine own way, and with my

chosen lot;

The future is too dark and full of doubt For me to tarry, and I trust it not;

Take all my blessings, all I am and have, But give that glimpse of Heaven before the grave.

Ah me! God heard my wayward selfish cry,

And, taking pity on my blinded heart, He bade the angel of strong grief draw nigh,

Who pierced my bosom, in its tenderest

part.

I drank wrath's wine-cup to the bitter

lees,

With strong amazement and a broken

will;

Then, humbled, straightway fell upon my knees,

And, God doth know, my heart is kneeling still.

I have grown patient; seeking not to choose

Mine own blind lot, but take what God

shall send,

In which, if what I long for I should

lose,

I know the loss will work some blessed

end,

Some better fate for mine and me than I

Could ever compass underneath the sky.

All The Year Round.

HOMESICK

"Blessed are they who are homesick, for they shall come at last to their Father's house."

Not as you meant, O learnèd man and good,

Do I accept thy words of truth and rest; God, knowing all, knows what for me is

best

And gives me what I need, not what He could,

Nor always what I would.

I shall go to my Father's house, and see Him and the Elder Brother, face to face;

What day or hour I know not;—let me be Steadfast in work, and earnest in the

race;

Not as a homesick child, who all day

long

Whines at his play and seldom speaks in

song.

If for a time some loved one goes away,
And leaves us our appointed work to do,
Can we to him or to ourselves be true,
In mourning his departure day by day,
And so our work delay?

Nay, if we love and honor, we shall make The absence brief, by doing well our task, Not for ourselves, but for the dear one's sake,

And at His coming, only of Him ask Approval of the work, which most was done

Not for ourselves, but our beloved one.

Our Father's house is broad and grand, In it how many, many mansions are!