Now mark it well, how all thy schemes,
And cherish'd longings came to naught,
Thy fondest wish and brightest dreams,
Were oft with disappointment fraught.
And then again events took place
Which human skill could never trace,
Or sense or reason ere devise,
To fill thy heart with such surprise.

How oft wast thou in deepest need,
Through thine own will and wish ensnared,
Thy blinded mind had death, indeed,
Instead of life for thee prepared;
It would have cost thee sad remorse,
Had but thy God allowed the course
In which thy purpose sought to run,
And left thee ruined and undone.

But He whose love no thought can bound,
Our sorrow into gladness turns,
Maketh that right which we confound,
Though all our folly He discerns.
His inward love constrains Him so
To us poor sinners here below,
That with a tender Father's care,'
His children His compassion share.
And oh! how oft He holds His peace,
Yet doing all for our true gain,
Though the poor heart will never cease
To sit in grief and anxious pain.
Looks here and there, and nothing finds,
Will see, and yet the darkness blinds,
Would fain escape into the day,
Attempts, but cannot find the way.
But God pursues His counsels deep,
In His wise way His end performs,
Hushes the boisterous winds to sleep,
Guides to the port, away from storms.
And bye and bye, when all is done,
The battle over, victory won,

Then man beholds Who ruled throughout,
His purposes to bring about.

Therefore, dear heart, fresh courage take,
Nor fret thyself with anxious care,
God has a heart ever awake,

And will what's best for thee prepare.
He wont forget-believe, and learn,
His inward bowels to thee yearn,
He calls thee by endearing names,
Thy very need His love inflames.

He burns and glows with truth and grace,
And thou can'st therefore well suppose,
How strength with strength He can replace;
Though oft we mar our own repose,
Taking such weight of carking care
As well might drive us to despair,
As if it was, beyond debate,

He followed us with scorn and hate.
Put far from thee at once the thought,
Nor yield to grief, which robs thy peace,
Whate'er He does is what He ought,
Though it no present joys increase.
That which thy Father, God, doth see
For thee most good, alone shall be,
What does His mind and will content,
No human power may prevent.
Do as a child, and quiet be,
Within thy loving Father's arms,
Beseech His fostering care for thee,
His mercy which thy bosom warms.
So will He by His Spirit lead
In ways unknown to thee indeed,
But thy well-ordered conflicts o'er!
Bring thee where sorrows are no more.

"Our business it is to treasure up the Word; it is the Spirit's to bring it forth out of the store-house, and to apply it. Have you renewed your strength, to-day, out of God's word? How know you what fiery darts Satan may aim at you? Or what will be needed to quench them? One little text, held as God's own word, is oft a panoply against infidelity in the day of battle."

"What a difference it makes which side the Jordan one lives! How different the climate, fruit, prospects, etc. When once the Jordan is crossed, then, too, 'tis the Lord's battles, and not one's own."

REVELATION V.

I SAW, in the right hand of Him
Who sat upon the throne in Heaven,
A volume writ without, within,

And closely seal'd-the seals were seven.

A mighty angel loudly cried,

"Who is of worth to take the book, "Unloose the seals, unroll it wide,

"And on its hidden pages look ?"

But there was none in heaven, or earth,
Or underneath to fix upon,
Who could be deem'd to be of worth
To take the book, or look thereon.

Then wept I much, in grief of soul,
To think there could be found no man
Of worth sufficient to unroll

The volume, or its writing scan.

"Weep not," an Elder said, "nor wail;
"The Lion of Judah's royal house,
"The Root of David, shall prevail

"To ope the book, the seals unloose."

Then I beheld, and saw appear,
Amidst the Throne, amidst the Four,
Amidst the Elders gather'd there,
A wondrous sight, unseen before.

As though it had been slain, there stood
A Lamb, seven-horned and seven-eyed;
Eyes, the seven spirits of our God,

Sent forth throughout earth's boundaries wide.

Then came the Lamb, and straightway took,
Of Him that sat upon the throne,

From His right hand the seven-seal'd book,
To make its hidden contents known.

And when the mystic book was ta'en,
Elders and living creatures all,
Before the Lamb that had been slain,
With one accord did prostrate fall.

Harps had they all of music rare,
And golden vials of perfume,
Whose odour was the earnest prayer
Of saints from out this world of gloom.

They sang a new and thrilling strain—
"Worthy art Thou the book to take,
"And loose the seals, for Thou wast slain
"A sacrifice for sinners' sake.

"And hast redeem'd us by Thy blood
"From every country, people, tongue,
"And made us kings and priests to God,
"And we shall reign on earth ere long."
Then I beheld, and heard the sound

Of thousands upon thousands more;
Yea, countless angels gather'd round
The Throne, the Elders, and the Four.

Saying, as they the voice upheave,
"Worthy the Lamb that once was slain,
"Power, riches, wisdom, to receive,
"And honour, glory, blessing gain!"

And all the spacious heavens contain,
And all on earth, and all beneath,

And all within the vasty main,

Yea, every creature that hath breath,

Heard I with one accordant tone,

Say, "Blessing, honour, glory, power, "To Him that sits upon the Throne, "And to the Lamb for evermore!"

"Amen!" the living creatures say; "Amen!" a confirmation gives; And prostrate Elders worship pay To Him who ever, ever lives.

No. XIV.

FALSE AIDS JUDGED.

WHEN the soul descends to an association below its profession, there is assuredly a secret predilection for the association, one which has been hitherto cloaked to oneself as well as to others, by the profession. Hence the necessity in God's ordering for the predilection to be exposed, and the profession weeded of an element, which like a worm in the bud, prevented efflorescence, and hindered the full expression of the light which has emboldened us to make the profession. A man would not willingly associate where he had no inclination; but it is only in his misery that his inclination is distinctly ascertained. In a Christian, the activities of his nature are more or less dormant at first, and while there is no pressure to draw them forth, he feels himself in a new scene, and the power which enabled him to enter it for a time sustains him; and his profession is truly in accordance thereto; but all the time there may be a worldly element which has not been crucified, and this element will expose itself, when the dreariness of the earth, or persecution for the word's sake arises; for though simple persecution from man only invigorates the soul when the truth dwells there in depth and reality, still as a rule, persecution or distress will necessarily invoke any element of nature that remains unmortified; and the strongest inclination breaks forth from its obscurity, and takes the lead.

When things are bright and easy around us, we may maintain our profession without much difficulty, but when there is famine in the land, as with Abraham, if we get occupied with it and not with God, we must consult our nature, and our nature by its counsel reveals to us its resources; which resources are nothing more nor less than its uncrucified predilections.

Abraham's nature counsels him to go down into Egypt for relief from the dearth; not, observe, into Syria, for Syria was the place from which he had departed at the positive call of the God of glory; and seldom will a true soul surrender what it has openly professed, or return to paths absolutely renounced; but there is an Egypt to every renewed soul, even after Syria is discarded; that is, though the world, or