But I ask Thee for a present mind
Intent on pleasing Thee.

I ask Thee for a thoughtful love,
Through constant watching, wise
To meet the glad with joyful smiles,
And to wipe the weeping eyes;
And a heart at leisure from itself,
To soothe and sympathize.

I would not have the restless will
That hurries to and fro,
Seeking for some great thing to do,
Or secret thing to know;

I would be treated like a child
And guided where I go.

Wherever in the world I am,
In whatsoe'er estate,

I have a fellowship with hearts
To keep and cultivate;

And a work of lowly love to do

For the Lord on whom I wait.

So I ask Thee for the daily strength
To none that ask denied,

And a mind to blend with outward life

While keeping at Thy side,

Content to fill a little space,

If Thou be glorified.

And if some things I do not ask

In my cup of blessing be,

I would have my spirit filled the more
With grateful love to Thee,

And careful less to serve Thee much,
Than to please Thee perfectly.

There are briers besetting every path
Which call for patient care;
There is a cross in every lot,

And a need for earnest prayer ;
But a lowly heart that leans on Thee
Is happy anywhere.

In a service which Thy love appoints
There are no bonds for me,

For my secret heart is taught the truth
Which makes Thy people free;
And a life of self-renouncing love
Is a life of liberty.

From the "LYRA ANGLICANA.'

ΟΙ

H, weary in the morning,

When soft the dewdrops fall,

And weary at the noontide,

When God's sun shines on all;

H

And weary at the nightfall,
When, each day's labour o'er,
I count my misspent moments
As lost for evermore.

Oh, weary of the turmoil,

The striving, and the care,
And weary of the burthen

Which we of earth must bear ;
Oh, weary of vain longings,
And weary with vain fears,

And wearier with heart-sorrows

Than with the weight of

Yet like a ray of sunlight,

years.

The Word shines through the gloom,

And after winter's darkness

Comes spring in fresher bloom;

And after vainly searching,

We find a resting meet;

For rest, and hope, and glory
Are found at Jesus' feet.

God never sends a sorrow
Without the healing balm,
And bids us fight no battles
But for the victor's palm.
Yet we by earth's mist blinded,
Knew not His holy will,

Till o'er the troubled waters

His voice said, 'Peace, be still!'

We will go forth and conquer,
Depending on His grace;

The lowliest station near Him
Must be an honoured place!
And after battle, victory;

And after victory, rest—
Like the beloved apostle,
Upon the Master's breast!

E. M. SEWEll.

UNLOVING words are meant to make us gentle,

and delays teach patience, and care teaches faith, and press of business makes us look out for minutes to give to God, and disappointment is a special messenger to summon our thoughts to heaven.

Now

TWELFTH DAY.

Sickness.

a certain man was sick, named Lazarus, of Bethany, the town of Mary and her sister Martha. (It was that Mary which anointed the Lord with ointment, and wiped his feet with her hair, whose brother Lazarus was sick.) Therefore his sisters sent unto him, saying, Lord, behold, he whom thou lovest is sick. When Jesus heard that, he said, This sickness is not unto death, but for the glory of God, that the Son of God might be glorified thereby. Now Jesus loved Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus. When he had heard therefore that he was sick, he abode two days still in the same place where he was. Then after that saith he to his disciples, Let us go into Judea again. His disciples say unto him, Master, the Jews of late sought to stone thee; and goest thou thither again? Jesus answered, Are there not twelve hours in the day? If any man walk in the day, he stumbleth not, because he seeth the light of this world. But if a man walk in the night, he stumbleth, because there