KEBLE, like Bishop Ken, wrote a Morning and Evening Hymn. He wrote many other poems, but those two hymns, which every one knows and loves, are perhaps the pearls of them all. You will find them in every hymn-book; they were published first in Kebble's own 'Christian year.' Perhaps you do not yet know this book. You must be men and women before you can truly love it. But there are many little lines and verses so full of music and sweetness, that even childhearts may remember and treasure them well.

'Think not of rest;-though dreams be sweet, Start up and ply your heavenward feet:

Is not God's oath upon your head
Ne'er to sink back on slothful bed..
Never again your loins untie,
Nor let your torches waste and die,
Till, where the shadows thickest fall,
Ye hear your Master's midnight call.

This is the call to be busy, to fill our lives with work. Here is a restful note we may take to still the impatience which work sometimes brings.

"There are in this loud stunning tide
Of human care and crime
With whom the melodies abide

Of th' everlasting chime,
Who carry music in their heart
Through dusky lane and wrangling mart,
Plying their daily tasks with busier feet
Because their secret souls a holy strain repeat.'

Here is a little sermon on how we must take joy and sorrow, and how, in loneliness or in company, if we seek we may find Jesus.

'So is it still to holy tears

In lonely hours, Christ risen appears;
In social hours who Christ would see,
Must turn all tasks to charity.'

Here is another to remind us how Christ sanctified beauty, and made all the bright earth holy-its birds and its sunshine and its flowers.

""Tis now a fane where Love can find
Christ everywhere embalmed and shrined;
Aye gathering up memorials sweet
Where'er she sets her duteous feet.'

But there is not space to cull thus from this treasury of sacred poetry. Here are the Morning and Evening Hymns which you may compare with Bishop Ken's.

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'O timely happy, timely wise,
Hearts that with rising morn arise
Eyes that the beam célestial view,
Which evermore makes all things new!
New every morning is the love
Our waking and uprising prove,
Through sleep and darkness safely brought,
Restored to life and power and thought.

New mercies, each returning day,
Hover around us while we pray;
New perils past, new sins forgiven,

New thoughts of God, new hopes of heaven.

If, on our daily course, our mind
Be set to hallow all we find,
New treasures still, of countless price,
God will provide for sacrifice.

Old friends, old scenes, will lovelier be
As more of heaven in each we see,
Some softening gleam of love and prayer
Shall dawn on every cross and care.
As for some dear, familiar strain,
Untired, we ask and ask again,
Ever, in its melodious store,
Finding a spell unheard before.

Such is the bliss of souls serene

When they have sworn and steadfast mean,
Counting the cost, in all t' espy
Their God, in all themselves deny.

O could we learn that sacrifice,
What lights would all around us rise!
How would our hearts with wisdom talk
Along life's dullest, dreariest walk.

We need not bid, for cloistered cell,
Our neighbour and our work, farewell,
Nor strive to wind ourselves too high
For sinful man beneath the sky.:

The trivial round, the common task,
Would furnish all we ought to ask;
Room to deny ourselves; a road
To bring us daily nearer God.

Only, O Lord, in Thy dear love
Fit us for perfect rest above;
And help us, this and every day,
To live more nearly as we pray.'

EVENING HYMN.

Sun of my soul, Thou Saviour dear,
It is not night if Thou be near;
O! may no earth-born cloud arise,
To hide Thee from Thy servant's eyes.

When with dear friends sweet talk I hold
And all the flowers of life unfold,
Let not my heart within me burn
Unless in Thee I all'discern.

When the soft dews of kindly sleep
My wearied eyelids gently steep,
Be my last thought, how sweet to rest
For ever on my Saviour's breast.

Abide with me from morn till eve,
For without Thee I cannot live;
Abide with me when night is nigh,
For without Thee I dare not die.

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Thou Framer of the light and dark,
Steer through the tempest Thine own ark!
Amid the howling wintry sea

We are in port if we have Thee.

Oh! by Thine own sad burthen, borne
So meekly up the hill of scorn,
Teach Thou Thy priests their daily cross
To bear as Thine, nor count it loss!

If some poor wandering child of Thine
Have spurned, to-day, the voice Divine,
Now, Lord, the gracious work begin;
Let him no more lie down in sin.

Watch by the sick, enrich the poor
With blessings from Thy boundless store,
Be every mourner's sleep to-night
Like infants' slumber, pure and light.

Come near and bless us when we wake,
Ere through the world our way we take:
Till, in the ocean of Thy love,

We lose ourselves in heaven above!

And now it is time to know something about him to whom we owe these beautiful hymns that have helped us so many times.

John Keble was born in 1792, at the little town of Fairford in Gloucestershire. The town with its mills and its old church lies at the foot of the Cotswold hills, and near the river Coln. And three miles from Fairford is the little church of Coln St. 'Aldwyn's, of which Keble's father was vicar. Keble's father was vicar of Coln St. 'Aldwyn's, but the family house was at Fairford, and here Keble spent his boyhood, and grew rich in those home affections which lingered with him so warmly and purely to the close of his long life.

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Keble had no school memories. never went to school, but was taught by his father at home. And he became a clever scholar, yet so gentle and well-beloved, that, when a little boy, he was called by his friends, John the good.

Before he was fifteen he became a scholar at Corpus Christi College, Oxford, and soon he distinguished himself in poetry, which he had loved all his life.

But how shall a story be made from a life which had scarcely any? So quiet and beautiful it was, with few changes, without adventure of any sort. A life which was filled by its affections, and by the daily duties which every life brings. For some years he assisted his father at Fairford, and in 1827, a few months after the death of his youngest sister, he published the 'Christian Year. It went to the heart of England. One edition after another was sold, and Keble, from this time forward, was the counsellor of many a stranger; overwhelmed by letters from those he had never seen, asking advice and sympathy.

It was not till eight years after this that he became vicar of Hursley, the place with which his name will always be associated, and where the rest of his life was spent. It is a little parish in the diocese of Winchester, not far from the sea. Here he published, in 1846, his Lyra Innocentum,' à volume of sacred poems for the young. Not many of you know it-a few of its simplest verses you may like to read.

FINE CLOTHES.

'And a very great multitude spread their garments in the way; others cut down branches from the trees and strewed them in the way.'

'Look westward, pensive little one:
How the bright hues together run
Around where, late, the waning sun
Sank in his evening cloud.

Or eastward turn thee and admire
How linger yet the showers of fire
Deep in each fold, high in each spire
Of yonder mountain proud.

Thou seest it not: an envious screen-
A fluttering leaflet hangs between
Thee and that fair, mysterious scene-

A veil too near thine eye.
One finger's breadth at hand will mar
A world of light in heaven afar,
A mote eclipse a glorious star,
An eyelid hide the sky.

And while, to clear the view, we stay,
Lo! the bright hour hath passed away;
A twilight haze, all dim and grey,

Hath quenched the living gleam.
Remember this, thou little child,
In hours of prayer, when fancy wild
Betwixt thee and thy Saviour mild

Come floating on life's stream:

The Sunday garment, glittering, gay,
The Sunday heart will steal away;
Then haste thee, ere the fond glance stray,
Thy precious robes unfold,
And cast before thy Saviour's feet :
Him spare not with thy best to greet,
Nor dread the dust of Zion's street;
"Tis jewels all and gold.'

Keble died at Bournemouth, after a very short illness, on the 29th of March 1866. He was buried at Hursley, in his own churchyard; and six weeks later his wife was laid in the same grave. They had no children, but Keble loved children tenderly, and cared for the little ones of his parish with a peculiar care.

There is a little story told which shews how he was loved and reverenced in his life by those far across the sea.

The friend of Keble who writes his memoir once visited Hursley along with an American gentleman, who earnestly wished to be introduced to the author of the 'Christian Year.' Before taking leave, the American asked Keble to cut him a piece of

ivy which grew on the wall of the passage. Keble, amused with the request, cut a large branch and gave it to his visitor. And the visitor carried it with him like a precious thing, saying he would be ashamed to name the sum he could easily get in America for every leaf upon the bough which was cut by Keble's hand.

H. W. II. W.

'PLEASURES FOR EVERMORE.' 'At Thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore.'Ps. 16. 11.

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never had a pleasure that lasted. You looked forward to a great pleasure, and it comes, and then very soon it is gone, and you can only look back upon it. The very longest and pleasantest day you ever had came to an end, and you had to go to bed and know that it was over.

How different are the pleasures at God's right hand! They are for evermore, and you cannot get to the end or see to the end of evermore,' for there is no end to it.

And you see it is not one pleasure only, but pleasures,' as manifold as they are unending. Do you not wonder what they will be? We cannot even guess at most of them; and if we thought and imagined the brightest and best that we possibly could, we should still find, when we reached heaven, that God's 'pleasures' for us were ever so much greater and better than we thought.

We can tell a few things about them. They will be holy pleasures, never mingled with any sin. They will be perfect pleasures, with nothing whatever to spoil them. They will be lasting pleasures, for to-night's text says so. They will be abundant pleasures, as many as we can possibly wish, for David says (Ps. 36. 8), 'They shall be abundantly satisfied with the fatness of Thy house, and Thou shalt make them drink of the river of Thy pleasures.' They will be always freshly flowing pleasures, for they are a river, not a little pool. They will be pleasures given by God Himself to us, for it does not say they shall drink,' but 'Thou shalt make them drink of the river of Thy pleasures.'

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And all these God hath prepared' for you. Is He not good and kind!

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'Angel voices sweetly singing, Echoes through the blue dome ringing, News of wondrous gladness bringing, Ah, 'tis heaven at last! 'Not a tear-drop ever falleth, Not a pleasure ever palleth, Song to song for ever calleth; Ah, 'tis heaven at last." (From 'Little Pillows.') FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL.

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The Dayspring Bible Class.

QUESTIONS ON MATTHEW'S GOSPEL.
Chapter IX. 18-38.

Who came to Jesus while He was teaching in
Matthew's house?

By what remarkable request did Jairus shew his strong faith in Jesus?

How long had the woman, in the crowd, been suffering from disease?

What made her touch the hem of Christ's garment?

What encouraging words did Jesus address to her?
What miracle accompanied these words?
What did Jesus say to the people who were
making a noise in the ruler's house?
How did they treat His words?

Did Jesus permit these people to witness His raising the child to life?

Who alone witnessed this miracle? Luke 8. 51. How old was Jairus' little daughter? Mark 5. 42. What was the cry of the two blind men who followed Jesus?

What did Jesus ask them?

What did Jesus say regarding their faith? By what saying did the multitudes express their wonder at Jesus' power over the devils? How did the Pharisees show their enmity against Him?

How are the various works of Jesus in the cities and villages described?

What was it that moved Jesus with compassion for the multitudes?

What did He bid His disciples do for them? How many miracles are recorded in this chapter?

Prize Scripture Questions.

Competitors will please observe to address their answers to Rev. JOHN KAY, 11 Teviot Row, Edinburgh.

19 Where does Paul shew his strong affection for one of his friends by using in one verse five different terms when naming him?

20 Where is the benign influence of the Lord's people on those around them compared to refreshing rain?

21 In what passage of four verses, from the prophets, are those nine times reproved who look with pleasure on the calamities of others?

Let me be a rose

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Many have been stung

Wounded by the thorn:

Roses' looks are kind, sweet and sunny;
Can they keep their tongue

Sharply tipped with scorn,

While they keep their hearts full of honey?

Though the thorn, in spite,

Often pierce the rose,

Never once the rose will resent it;

But, its rare delight

Hasting to disclose,

Lives in hope the thorn may repent it.

Paisley: J. AND R. PARLANE.]

Lurks the thorn below? Still sweet roses bend,

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