born in Scotland in 1600, and died in prison at St. Andrews, in 1661. He was a great preacher, a fearless and well-trained teacher of Calvinistic doctrine, and the courage of his convictions cost him his life. At the sinking of the sun in the afternoon. of his last day of earth, he said to some friends who were at his bedside: "Oh, that all my brethren in the land may know what a Master I have served, and what peace I have this day! I shall sleep in Christ, and when I awake, I shall be satisfied with His likeness. This night shall close the door, and put my anchor within the vail; and I shall go away in a sleep by five of the clock in the morning. Glory! glory to my Creator and my Redeemer for ever! Oh, for arms to embrace Him! Oh, for a well-tuned harp! Glory! glory dwelleth in Immanuel's land!" Mrs. Cousin wrote a poem of nineteen stanzas which she called, "The Last Words of Samuel Rutherford," in which she skilfully wrought the dying and triumphant words of the Scottish saint, and from which comes her popular hymn. EMILY ELIZABETH STEELE A ELLIOTT MONG Christmas hymns designed for children two of high rank have been written by Miss Elliott. One begins with the line, "There came a little child to earth," which is popular in England, but is not known to many singing congregations in America. The second hymn is just as suitable for adults as for youthful minds, and has the ring of a true Christmas song. It was privately printed in 1864 for the use of the choir and school of St. Mark's Church, Brighton, England. The hymn has passed into almost every standard hymnal published in the United States during the past ten or twelve years. The best text available is the following: Thou didst leave Thy throne and Thy kingly crown When Thou camest to earth for me: But in Bethlehem's home was there found no room For Thy holy nativity: Oh, come to my heart, Lord Jesus, Heaven's arches rang when the angels sang, But in lowly birth Thou didst come to earth, Oh, come to my heart, Lord Jesus, There is room in my heart for Thee. The foxes found rest, and the birds had their nest In the shade of the cedar tree; But Thy couch was the sod, O Thou Son of God, Oh, come to my heart, Lord Jesus, Thou camest, O Lord, with the living word But with mocking scorn, and with crown of thorn, Oh, come to my heart, Lord Jesus, There is room in my heart for Thee. When heaven's arches shall ring and her choir shall sing At Thy coming to victory, Emily Elizabeth Steele Elliott Let Thy voice call me home, saying, "Yet there is room, There is room at My side for thee": And my heart shall rejoice, Lord Jesus, Regarding Miss Elliott's history, the facts are very slender. The date of her birth is unknown, but it is supposed to be about 1825. She wrote a large number of hymns which were issued in book form in 1866, and following this volume came "Chimes. for Daily Service," and "Chimes of Consecration." Her death occurred in London in 1897. With the exception of the two Christmas hymns Miss Elliott has made no important contributions to hymnology. The hymn I have quoted is an admirable production, and is usually sung to the music by Barnby or Matthews, and in either setting it makes a delightful addition to the Christmas song service of the sanctuary. ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER NE of the brightest names among ON the women whose hearts have been wellsprings of poetry is that of Adelaide Procter. Her father was Bryan Waller Procter of London, who was more commonly known by his pen-name, “Barry Cornwall." At a tender age his daughter displayed a glowing love of poetry, and before she had attained to her eighteenth year many of her poems found a prominent place in English literature. The following interesting story concerning Miss Procter was contributed by Charles Dickens to "The Atlantic Monthly," for December, 1865 nearly two years after her death at the age of thirty-nine years. When Mr. Dickens was was conducting "Household Words" he received a short poem for publication in the spring of 1853, which in merit was far above the "shoal of verses perpetually seething through the |