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On giving oneself to God. 373 Spring that never dries up,

On Solway Sands; or, The

The . . . . . .


Wigtown Martyrs . . 333 Story of St. Alban . . . II3
On the Gate . . . . 126 Things that are left . . .
Pastor Fliedner . . .

This same Jesus. . . .

Cave, The, and

Through Him .


. . .

. 259

Treasure Seekers . .

what took place in it

. 108

Trust in God . . . .

Pitcairn .

Poor of this world. The

Turned Leaf, The . . . 340

Prayer answered . .

Uprightly . . . . .
Put to Bed in the Dark . 49 i Vice in Ourselves and Others 219
Short Weight .

Voice of Wisdom, The.
. . .

. 307
Side Pocket, A. . . . 255

255 : Wrong's wrong, and Right's

Sir Titus Salt . . . 15 right . . . . . 275

Sought and Found . . . 151 1 X. Y. 2.. . . . . . 40

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Adam Blair . . . . . 143 | New Year's Bells, Hymn o?

Alabaster Vase, The. . 33 the . . . . . . . I

Alone . . . . . . 161

Old Trapper, The ...

Asleep . . . . . 316


Peace . .


Best Time of the Year, The 192

Pebbles from the Stream

Christmas Carol for my Sandie and Reubie . . .

Children, A . , . . Song . .
Cry of the Soul's Need. The Song of Divine Consolation
Dark and Cloudy Day, The 297

Sowing beside all Waters.
Dark February, Chill and

Spring Time. .

Sunrise on the Hill. . .
Dead Egypt. ..

Sympathy . . . . .

Dwell in Christ . . . . The best thing I could be .

Thou Helper help in Woe

Eternal Pendulum, The ..

and Need . . . . .

Evening . . . . . . 150

Time is on the wing . .

Father, I'll stay with you . To Mary, in London . .
For Me . . . . . . 370 Too Late, or a more con-

Glimpse of Eternity, A .

venient season . . .

Hope Thou in God. . .

Upward and Onward . . 380

Infancy . . . . . . 122

Voice of Faith amid the

Storm, The . . . . 91

Jessie. . . . . .

Warrior Prophet's Death,

King's Motto, The ...

The . . . . . .

What she could . . ..
Light in Darkness, . .

When she kissed me on the
Mill Rurn, The . . . . 1951 forehead . . . . . 112


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The Hymn of the New Year's Bells.

T midnight by the wintry fire,

We sit and backward gaze
Into the past—the bygone years,

The vanished months and days.
And memory turns her mystic page,

Seen by the soul within,
With many a blotted record there

Of sorrow and of sin.
- For much is gone we might have gained,

And many a blank is seen ;
The best we missed, and ofttimes lost

The good that might have been.
We might have trod a higher path,

And lived a better life;
We might have held a stronger faith,

And waged a nobler strife.
From many a band that held us back

We might have been set free,
And so this night, O Lord our God,

Have nearer been to Thee.

Our sins and errors of the past

For Jesus' sake forgive,
And grant us grace in days to come

A holier life to live.

A life devoted to Thy will,

And strengthened by Thy might; Its guidance, and its guard divine,

Its pathway in the light.

A life whose coming days shall be

In Jesus' service. passed ;
Until we reach our Father's house,

His home and ours at last.

Ring out, o bells, the darksome night,

The tyranny of sin ! O new year's bells, with happy chimes,

The reign of Christ ring in !

Thy kingdom come, O God, in us,

In faith and love and peace ! Dispel the darkness of our souls,

And bid the discord cease.

Oh, help us to press forward still,

With earnest, steadfast mind ! Forgetting in a nobler aim

The things that lie behind.

That thus the best our past hath seen,

This glad new year may be ; The start-point of a higher life, More worthy, Lord, of Thee.

Ring out, o bells, the evil past !

Ring in all nobler things !".. Ring in the reign of righteousness,

And Christ, the King of Kings !

We look around upon our home,

One vacant place is there;
The Master came at break of day,

And plucked a lily fair.

We know a little grave that lies

Beneath the wintry snow;
We know a happy soul that walks

Where living waters flow.

We have a lamb in Jesus' fold,

A loved one on His breast; A treasure safe for evermore

Within the land of rest.

O Saviour! Thou didst chasten us,

That we Thy grace might see ; Our griefs became the cords of love

To draw our hearts to Thee.

Thanks, gracious Master, bless us still ;

Those loved ones spared us, bless! Oh, clothe them with the spotless robe

Of Thine own righteousness !

From sin and evil keep their souls,

Be Thou their guide and guard ; And may they know Thy love is life,

Thy service is reward.

Thy favour better than earth's gain,

Thy love more than her gold ; Thy smile more sweet than song hath sung,

Or lips of man have told.

God save us all from sin and woe,

Thy grace to us be given ;
That we may dwell with Thee at last,

A family in heaven.

Ring out the evils of the past,

Its failures and its fears ;
Ring out the curse, the sin, the strife,

Ring out the wasted years !

Ring in the reign of grace and truth,

Ye clanging bells that swing Within a thousand towers, ring iu

The reign of Christ our King !

t was Saturday evening, and Melton Street was

crowded from one end to the other. Stalls lined both sides of the way, and displayed every kind

of cheap commodity, whilst heaps of decaying vegetables and whelk-shells disfigured the middle of the road, and poisoned the air for the passers-by. Each vendor was intent on disposing of his own peculiar wares, and a ceaseless “Buy, buy, buy” could be heard the whole length of the street.

On one of the low doorsteps sat an elderly woman, and resting on her knee was a huge basket containing an odd medley of goods, one side filled with various kinds of fruit, the other with tapes and buttons and similar household necessities. But the evening seemed long, and purchasers were few, and from time to time the woman gazed wearily around. For once her usual Saturday trade seemed to have deserted her, and at length she rose from her uncomfortable seat with a worn-out gesture. For the last half-hour not one in all the busy thoroughfare had paused to buy from her little store, and Betty gazed enviously at the more aitractive stalls as afterwards she slowly passed them by. An unaccountable depression weighed upon her spirits ; she felt out of place amid that rude, jostling crowd, and vented her annoyance in more than one impatient exclamation.

“The world's getting too full,” said she to herself ; " and it's aye true what they say, the weaker ones must go to the wall. But I'd just like to tell them there'll come the time when they'll be as weak and old as me, and then I shouldn't wonder if they don't change their tone a bit.”

However, at last Betty was free to leave the bustle and din of Melton Street behind her, and turning down a short, gloomy passage, she speedily found herself in a square paved yard, with houses standing closely round, and a solitary lamp-post in the centre. Paradise Gardens was the name given to this uninviting spot, though, it is needless to add, no gardens were visible, nor could aught else be seen sug

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