was suspended, and the mate, for his coolness and courage in the hour of danger, received the highest commendation.

Thus ended the catastrophe of the wreck of the Havre.

The following are the reflections to which the unfortunate incident gave rise: On leaving Southampton the moon was shining brightly, and as we sailed down the smooth and glistening waters all was peaceful and full of pleasure. How often is life, at its commencement smooth, gentle, and lovely, afterwards tossed with storms, and sadness and loss follow! Ought we not to be wise, therefore, while enjoying the present, to remember the "days of evil," and, giving thanks to the "Giver of all good," prepare for the future?

Expecting rough weather in open channel, I soon found my berth, hoping to escape the horrors of sea-sickness, to which I am unfortunately subject. The movement of the ship, however, was much less than I expected, and as I thought of Him "who holdeth the waves in the hollow of His hand," and whose eye looketh on those "who do business in the great waters," I felt how helpless is man! how wonderful is God! To feel safe in His arms while sailing over life's sea, oh, how rich a blessing! We think much of the poor body, its safety, its preservation, its deliverance from suffering and loss, but how little, alas! of the imperishable gem it contains the immortal spirit! We sail upon smiling waters, buoyant with this world's prosperity, satisfied with the delights of the present; but, oh, how infinitely inferior are the joys of a world like this compared with the unspeakable felicities of eternity!

While thus musing I suddenly felt the first ominous lurch of the vessel, and was pitched from my berth. Then followed the unmistakable grate of the ship's keel on the sunken reef. The white-crested waves, hissing past as they leaped over the gangway, the shouts of the captain, the hurried steps of the passengers overhead, the half-choked scream

of the women, all told me that danger was nigh; and when I ascended to the deck and saw our position death seemed inevitable. The boats were being lowered; not a carpetbag, not a package, not a valuable was allowed to be put into the boats. "Haste to the rock!" cried the captain. The tradesman must leave his valuable goods, the lady her wardrobe and jewels; even what seemed necessary for our temporary relief must be abandoned. All-all is left, so that precious lives may be saved. Ah, what will not a man give for his life? "Yea, all that a man hath will he give for his life." A time will come when, instead of "treasuring up riches, not knowing who shall gather them," each will be ready to give up all to be safe in that boat in which Christ offers shelter and safety. There are rocks ahead and underneath the surface of every human life. Do we know their locality? are we aware of their treacherous lurking-places? and are we seeking to avoid them, like a wise mariner, by studying the chart of life-the Bible-which God has given us for our guidance?

The rock to which the boats were now hastening stood out black against the brightening sky; the dawn was just breaking, the light, only just enough to guide us over the boiling sea; but the terror-stricken passengers got a glimmer of reassured hope as one boat after another was lowered and left the ship's side safely.

Lower and lower the steamer sank, till at length the waters rushed over the deck, and with her miscellaneous cargo she was buried beneath the pitiless wave. Just as she sank the last passenger was safely lodged upon the friendly reef.

Oh, how welcome the firm foothold! Hunger, cold, even death may have to be encountered, but death from hunger and cold seemed preferable to being engulfed in the angry waters. When the tug was sent out, the fugitives were soon discovered, taken off the rock, and conveyed. to Guernsey. What a crowd collected! what weeping to find fathers, mothers, children all safe! No inquiry

was made about property, no regret was expressed for the cargo-all are absorbed with gratitude for the safety of the people. And as I sat by my window the next morning looking out upon the bay, so different in its mood to what it was the day before-so smiling and bright, its face mirrored with a thousand ripples, the tiny waves on the shore just toying with the sandy beach-I could scarcely believe I had so narrowly escaped drowning. Then that rock! What should we have done without that rock? "Make

for the rock!" is still ringing in my ears. Yes, I would say to my friends, as I think of that narrow escape, make for that Rock which no floods can overpass"the Rock" Christ! He stands amid the sea of life, whether there be storm or calm, and is the only safe resting-place. Like the poor terrified passengers, go to Him. He stands ready to receive you. Take nothing with you but your poor endangered self, and say, "Lord, save me."

You may now be sailing on smooth seas without hint of danger, but there are sunken rocks which can wreck you, though the waves play gently above them; the smiles of prosperity may cheer you on, but the hidden reef of worldly pleasures, self-indulgence, luxurious ease, and forgetfulness of God, will wreck you as surely as those rocky ramparts round the Guernsey coast. Then who will you blame? Like the captain in his frenzy, will you blame the State for the absence of the beacon light? or, like the passengers, will you blame the captain? How like sinners! They do wrong, then throw the blame on others, as in the first transgression. But God's way is grand and noble like Himself, striking at the very root of all human self-complacency; for His Word tells us, "If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." When the Spirit of God touches the conscience, we say, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and in Thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called Thy son." "God be merciful to me a sinner." The Father loves not to clothe

Himself with terrors, though it is often by terror that man is awakened to a sense of his insecurity. The pitiful eye of God is following His wayward children till they will heed His call.

The Touch of Faith.

"If I may but touch His garment, I shall be whole.”—Matt. ix. 21.

HE touch of faith from Jesus drew
Such healing to my soul,

As made me know with great delight
That He had made me whole;
That straight from Him the virtue flowed
Which has on me such grace bestowed.

The look of faith has shown me why
The Lamb of God has died;
And how His lifting up proclaimed
Salvation far and wide-

The gift of life, the name of sons,
To leprous souls and ruined ones.

The word of faith assures my heart
Of all that makes it glad;
That nothing to the finished work
Can earth or heaven add,

Of Him who, rising from the grave,
Was proved the Mighty One to save.

Oh, precious faith in Christ my Lord,
Which makes His beauty mine,
And all the preciousness in Him
My own by grace Divine;
Since all that He is I am too,
Myself in Jesus hid from view.

A. M. H.

HEN I was a girl I was in the habit of going to visit a lady for whom I, and all who knew her, felt the greatest respect and admiration. She had

been for many years confined entirely to her bed or a sofa with a spinal complaint; and it was her patience and cheerful endurance of what seemed to others a life of priva