The Hymn of the New Year's Bells.

T midnight by the wintry fire,
We sit and backward gaze
Into the past-the bygone years,
The vanished months and days.

And memory turns her mystic page,
Seen by the soul within,

With many a blotted record there
Of sorrow and of sin.

For much is gone we might have gained,
And many a blank is seen;

The best we missed, and ofttimes lost

The good that might have been.

We might have trod a higher path,
And lived a better life;

We might have held a stronger faith,
And waged a nobler strife.

From many a band that held us back
We might have been set free,
And so this night, O Lord our God,
Have nearer been to Thee.

Our sins and errors of the past

For Jesus' sake forgive,

And grant us grace in days to come

A holier life to live.

A life devoted to Thy will,

And strengthened by Thy might; Its guidance, and its guard divine, Its pathway in the light.

A life whose coming days shall be
In Jesus' service. passed;

Until we reach our Father's house,
His home and ours at last.

Ring out, O bells, the darksome night, The tyranny of sin!

O new year's bells, with happy chimes, The reign of Christ ring in!

Thy kingdom come, O God, in us,
In faith and love and peace!
Dispel the darkness of our souls,
And bid the discord cease.

Oh, help us to press forward still,
With earnest, steadfast mind!
Forgetting in a nobler aim

The things that lie behind.

That thus the best our past hath seen,
This glad new year may be;
The start-point of a higher life,
More worthy, Lord, of Thee.

Ring out, O bells, the evil past!
Ring in all nobler things!
Ring in the reign of righteousness,
And Christ, the King of Kings!

We look around upon our home,
One vacant place is there;
The Master came at break of day,
And plucked a lily fair.

We know a little grave that lies
Beneath the wintry snow;
We know a happy soul that walks
Where living waters flow.

We have a lamb in Jesus' fold,
A loved one on His breast;
A treasure safe for evermore
Within the land of rest.

O Saviour! Thou didst chasten us,
That we Thy grace might see;
Our griefs became the cords of love
To draw our hearts to Thee.

Thanks, gracious Master, bless us still;
Those loved ones spared us, bless!
Oh, clothe them with the spotless robe
Of Thine own righteousness!

From sin and evil keep their souls,
Be Thou their guide and guard;
And may they know Thy love is life,
Thy service is reward.

Thy favour better than earth's gain,
Thy love more than her gold;

Thy smile more sweet than song hath sung,
Or lips of man have told.

God save us all from sin and woe,

Thy grace to us be given;

That we may dwell with Thee at last,

A family in heaven.

Ring out the evils of the past,

Its failures and its fears;

Ring out the curse, the sin, the strife,
Ring out the wasted years!

Ring in the reign of grace and truth,
Ye clanging bells that swing
Within a thousand towers, ring iu
The reign of Christ our King!

T.

T was Saturday evening, and Melton Street was crowded from one end to the other. Stalls lined both sides of the way, and displayed every kind of cheap commodity, whilst heaps of decaying vegetables and whelk-shells disfigured the middle of the road, and poisoned the air for the passers-by. Each vendor was intent on disposing of his own peculiar wares, and a ceaseless "Buy, buy, buy" could be heard the whole length of the street.

On one of the low doorsteps sat an elderly woman, and resting on her knee was a huge basket containing an odd medley of goods, one side filled with various kinds of fruit, the other with tapes and buttons and similar household necessities. But the evening seemed long, and purchasers were few, and from time to time the woman gazed wearily around. For once her usual Saturday trade seemed to have deserted her, and at length she rose from her uncomfortable seat with a worn-out gesture. For the last half-hour not one in all the busy thoroughfare had paused to buy from her little store, and Betty gazed enviously at the more attractive stalls as afterwards she slowly passed them by. An unaccountable depression weighed upon her spirits; she felt out of place amid that rude, jostling crowd, and vented her annoyance in more than one impatient exclamation.

"The world's getting too full," said she to herself; "and it's aye true what they say, the weaker ones must go to the wall. But I'd just like to tell them there'll come the time when they'll be as weak and old as me, and then I shouldn't wonder if they don't change their tone a bit."

However, at last Betty was free to leave the bustle and din of Melton Street behind her, and turning down a short, gloomy passage, she speedily found herself in a square paved yard, with houses standing closely round, and a solitary lamp-post in the centre. Paradise Gardens was the name given to this uninviting spot, though, it is needless to add, no gardens were visible, nor could aught else be seen sug