Pray for what passeth human skill,

The power God's will to do;

Read thou, that thou may'st do his will, And thou shalt know it too.

And what if much be still unknown?
Thy Lord will teach thee that,

When thou shalt stand before His throne,
Or sit as Mary sat.

Wait, and He will himself disclose
Things now beyond our reach;

And listen not, my child, to those
Who the Lord's secrets teach ;-

Who teach thee more than He has taught, Tell more than He revealed;

Preach tidings that He never brought,

And read what He left sealed.

TO TWO VERY DEAR LITTLE GIRLS WHO

.

LEFT A NOSEGAY TO WITHER

STUDY.

IN MY

BEAUTIFUL! And were they made

Only thus to bloom and fade?

'Twas but yesterday they shone
Unrivalled, and to-day are gone.
But will He, who glory gives
To the humblest plant that lives,
Who these tiny things so deck'd,
Will He your dear souls neglect?
They lift their head His light to share-

So lift you your hearts in prayer ;
Softly on them rests His dew,—

So may his Spirit rest on you:

You look on, admire and love,

What if thus, from Heaven above,

Angels now are looking on

At what God for you has done?

THE EFFICACY OF FAITH.

THE waves were dashing loud and high,

66

My child looked on with me :

Father," she cried, "why may not I

Trust God and walk that sea?

"Was it not lack of faith alone

That made the Apostle sink?

By faith, therefore, it may be done-
Father, what should I think?"

"The Lord bade Peter go, my child; And, should he thee command,

Thy feet would on those waters wild

Be firm as on this sand.

"But life has storms more awful yet,

Waves rougher than yon sea;

Then do not thou, in these, forget

That Jesus is with thee.

"Care not what others have to do

What may be or has been;

But, on the path God calls thee, go, And use thy faith therein."

ON THE ORIGINAL SPRING AT TUNBRIDGE

WELLS.*

WHEN the forest tree shaded this lone quiet rill,

A forlorn man here wandered to drink day by day ; On his cheek was the death-stain that mocks human skill, And the bloom of his young days had faded away.

Then sparkled the wine-cup in Neville's blithe hall,
And the harp too was there with its wild witching

thrill;

But in sadness of spirit he turn'd from it all,
To wander and drink at this lone quiet rill.

And sadness and death passed away like a dream-
He has gone to his hearth, the dear home of his love-
So, my Saviour, let me drink of thy living stream,

So depart, cleansed and whole, to my home that's above.

* See Note C.