EVERMORE REJOICE.

SPIRIT, sorrowing on thy road,
Bowed and chastened by thy God,
Bend thee lowly, cast thee down,
Every idol, every crown—

Then look upwards, list the voice,
Saying evermore rejoice.

'Tis not meet that those who bear
Sovereign proof of heavenly care,
Should repine and long to be
From such blessed bondage free-
Look thee upward, list the voice,
Evermore rejoice, rejoice.

Faithless, stricken, sorrowing one,
Journey forward, journey on ;
She whose anguish, dark and deep,
Led her by the way to weep ;
Still could heavenly solace see,
In the thought, "God seeth me."

Sees He not each wayside one;
Hears He not each throbbing groan;
And He promises to keep

Blessings for the souls who weep;

For He registers on high

Every contrite mourner's sigh.

Gird the heavenly armour on,
Mount for heaven's eternal throne,
Where the ransomed mourners meet,

Worshippers at Jesus' feet;

And the Saviour's blissful voice

Bids them evermore rejoice.

PERFECT TRUST.

"It is the Lord."-I SAM. iii. 18.

WHEN I can trust my all with God,
In trial's fearful hour-

Bow, all resigned, beneath His rod,
And bless His sparing power,
A joy springs up amidst distress-
A fountain in the wilderness.

Oh! to be brought to Jesus' feet,
Though sorrows fix me there,
Is still a privilege; and sweet
The energies of prayer,

Though sighs and tears its language be,
If Christ be nigh, 'tis well with me.

Oh! blessed be the hand that gave,
Still blessed when it takes ;

Blessed be He who smites to save,

Who heals the heart He breaks;

Perfect and true are all His ways,

Whom heaven adores, and death obeys.

Whate'er thy lot—where'er thou be—
Confess thy folly-kiss the rod ;
And in thy chastening sorrows see
The hand of God.

A bruised reed He will not break,
Afflictions all His children feel;
He wounds them for His mercy's sake-
He wounds to heal!

THE CHRISTIAN CONFLICT.

"Wherefore take unto you the whole armour of God."-EPH. vi. 13.

THERE is a battle to be fought,

An up-hill race to run;

A crown of glory to be sought,
A victory to be won.

Oh faint not, Christian, for thy sighs
Are heard before His throne ;
The race must come before the prize,
The cross before the crown.

But none shall gain the blissful place,
Or God's unclouded glory see;
Who talks of free and sovereign grace,
Unless that grace has made him free?

.

O. H. M. S.

I HAD occasion to visit one of the Government offices, and when there was struck by the simple circumstance that the note-paper and envelopes used in it had imprinted on them the letters O.H.M.S. Whether the matter about which any particular clerk might write was one of vital importance to the country, or of the most trivial nature, his letter was inscribed as being An idea crossed my "On Her Majesty's Service."

mind which would have been helpful to me if I had dwelt upon it, but I banished it, and it seemed to have gone entirely from me.

That evening I sat with my wife talking of the day that was over. My wife, usually cheerful and happy, was tired, and inclined to be discontented with things.

She pushed from her a large basket filled with stockings and small garments that required mending,

and sighing, said, "I declare life scarcely seems worth living. Look at what I've done to-day. I helped Hannah dress the children, then I dusted about, made a pudding, and did no end of odd jobs; then all the afternoon I received visitors who talked the veriest small talk, with scarcely a grain of common-sense in a bushel of miserable chaff; then I mended and mended, and-" with a vicious little push of the basket, "shall have to mend, till I catch up with this work. Now, what is there in all that which is a bit nobler than the experiences of a cab-horse that does its duty and gets his nose-bag considerately placed conveniently for him when he has a spell of quietude? Dusting, mending, chatting, sipping tea, preparing meals and eating them, looking after the children-that's the sum of my life, and of many another woman's, and I don't see that it's worth living."

Now, if I had spoken out the idea which had come to me in the Government office it might have been all right, but I did not. Instead of that I allowed my wife's spirit of discontent to infect me, and rejoined gloomily:

"And how much better is my life? The hum-drum of my office routine, the toadying to customers, the everlasting round of the same duties, and all for money, just that we may live. It does seem strange that God should have so set the bounds of our life that nineteentwentieths of life should be so stale and flat and mean."

More of the same sort of talk followed, and at last I went to rest, tired and cross, and feeling decidedly ill-used.

But in my dreams the idea which I had thrust from me returned.

I fancied that the morning had come, and that my wife rose and dressed, and then took in her hand a textbook from which it was her custom to read a motto for the day. The text was one I had never read in the Bible before, but I was familiar with something like it,

and in my dream it did not strike me as at all peculiar. It was, "Whether therefore ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all as on His Majesty's Service."

My wife closed the little book, and having knelt in prayer, went forth to her duties. When she went into the dining-room there were no signs of breakfast. Hannah was there, and it would have been evident to one far less used to our domestic's uncertain temper that she was in no very amiable mood. She was making a good deal of unnecessary dust with the broom she was wielding.

Now I should have felt that there was much excuse for my wife if she had manifested some degree of temper also, but instead of this she quietly said to Hannah :

"Why, Hannah, have you overslept yourself? I could not have made you hear when I called you. How foolish of me. I'll finish the sweeping, and you put on the porridge."

"Poor wife," I fancy I said to myself, "I do not wonder you thought your life hum-drum enough when the matters of absorbing interest with you are such things as your domestic's temper and the porridge, and the first task in the morning is to sweep the floor.

Then I looked at my wife, and it seemed to me that a soft radiance shone from the handle of the broom she wielded, and as I looked again I saw that in letters of light was shining forth the inscription O.H.M.S.

Then the despised broom became in my eyes a staff of highest State. I knew my wife had accepted the humble task as a duty to be performed on the King's service, and I knew that the King had accepted her devotion to Himself. I understood now the quaint words of old George Herbert :