precious days in idleness, nor in indefinite wishes that they could work, as do others. If there be first a willing mind, the way will be made plain. Let us look within; let us search and try our ways, and then turn again to the Lord. Perhaps we have not made the most of our opportunities, and we seem to have no solid acquirements, nothing of our own to impart, and put out to usury. So often the priceless years of education, so called, are lost and squandered, and we awake too late. Well, if this be our sad case, all the more reason for us to gather up the fragments that remain. Fragments of half-cultivated talent, of superficial knowledge. Something may be done with these, if we really are sincere, and bent on working. Have our broken resolves taught us the wise lesson of humility, and are we weary of self, with its countless inconsistencies? If so, let us be of good cheer, for a great step has been already made. Onward and upward, our "good time" is coming. If we will, we may still redeem the past, and in a short time, live a long time. There is a vast variety of work in our dear Master's field, the wide world. He likes to see us ready and waiting His bidding, and He is just about to grant us the joy of feeling His approval on our trusty labours. There is great freshness in all we undertake for our heavenly Father. We cannot see what He is preparing for our busy head and hands and feet, but He will, if we have patience, show us His ways, and lead us in His paths. What countless thousands of faithful souls are now fully occupied in whatever comes into their life-work. We sigh to join the noble army, and we shall not sigh in vain. Soon, to our glad surprise, we shall find ourselves enrolled in their number, spending and being spent without stint or calculation, scattering words and deeds of kindness, humbleness of mind, meekness, long-suffering. By believing prayer, the slow will grow quick; the thoughtless sober-minded. Life is real; life is earnest. Oh, to be found watching, waiting, working, doing whatever it is our duty to do, when the day breaketh and the shadows flee away! A. M. V. Our boy had sailed to distant lands, But soon we'll see his face again, To-morrow we shall see him safe So soon; it was a joy to think, The dull old house his gladsome voice To-morrow came, the cloth was laid For out and in the house we went For well we knew the ship was due, That day from any fancied ill We would not trouble borrow; To-morrow came, to-morrow went, The ship we knew was overdue; We thought of it with sorrow: O when will she arrive in port? Perhaps, perhaps to-morrow. My step grew slow, my heart grew sad, And on her eyelids and her cheeks And as the weary days went past, And night by night we laid our heads At last came tidings from the deep Could that mean safety for the crew, That thus the boats had drifted? No one could tell; the sullen deep Our cheeks grew paler day by day, O never more before the door Then knelt we down, and side by side We soon shall see our boy again, O, life is but a waning day, We'll see our lad to-morrow. Then came a day, the eighth of May, No gladness in our heavy hearts, The bushes hung all damp with rime, And gold grey mists spread far and wide To see what there was written. Just one word-SAVED! O, blessed word, Our fears and griefs dispelling: "Our boy," I cried, "O wife, is safe;" Yet who can know what joy then dawned What gladness came with that one word Our faces flushed again with joy, Our hearts had lost their sadness. The cloud that lowered so dark before Thus have I told my simple tale, For, O, 'tis precious to the heart To which peace is a stranger, To know that loved ones, mourned as lost, Are safe and free from danger. And better still, to know them saved From evil and transgression; This is to hearts that love the Lord |