preparation for stepping higher; every self-denial, however small, a help to a more generous yielding up of self; every observance of a plain duty a strength as the greater call to service comes; that everything done for Jesus is like a little seed, which must bear fruit and multiply again-why, your life would brighten and glow with light, and a thousand tiny stars of hope would shine on your daily path, crowning you with the certainty of your Saviour's smile!

And remember, for your comfort, that He does not ask you to be "successful," only to be “faithful.”

You may have really tried your best with that fractious child, and failed in making him aught but troublesome all the time. Never mind! you were faithful, if not successful. And those tiresome little fingers that you guided over the piano for fully an hour or more, and which even to the end would never learn that "the thumb must come upon C "well, you did your best with them; you were faithful to the parents who trusted you to teach the child, and that is all God asked you to be, and you have pleased Him.

Oh, if we could only recollect that what God wants is a constant up-looking to Him from the things of our childlife, or grown-life, how sunny our hearts would become!

Let us live desiring above all things "not to serve Him much, but to please Him perfectly."

EVA TRAVERS POOLE.

The Good Lady has promised."

ou see, sir, I can't believe. I know all those things you tell me by heart, but somehow I can't believe 'tis meant for me," said Betsy Ash to me one day, as I brought before her again and again God's precious invitations and promises to the worst of sinners, to come to Him in His Son's name. Changing the conversation, I drew her out on her personal wants and sufferings. She was a great invalid, and had been ordered nourishing and strengthening food, which she had found a great diffi

culty in procuring. With much satisfaction she told me that her landlord's wife, Lady C., had ordered her to send every day for a dinner at half-past twelve o'clock, and that her little granddaughter had even then gone to fetch it. Seizing the opportunity, I inquired: “And are you sure of receiving it? How if she comes back with an empty basket, having had her trouble for nothing?" Looking at me with unfeigned astonishment, Betsy exclaimed, "Why, sir, the good lady has promised! She must find it ready for me, for the good lady promised." "Ah, Betsy," said I," and you trust and rest on the promises of a fellow-creature, whose power and whose will might both fail, and yet you dare to doubt those of the unchanging, the all-sufficient Jehovah, the promise-keeping God! He has said, 'Come unto Me, and I will give you rest.' And He will keep His promise. He has told you that whoso cometh to Him He will in no wise cast out.' He has pardon, peace, grace, strength, and every blessing waiting for you to send for it, to 'take it ;' and yet you dare to refuse a confidence to Him that you willingly accord to a frail human being. Tell me, if you

didn't send for your dinner, and told Lady C. you didn't believe her, would you get it?" "Faith, no; her ladyship would be downright riled' with me and put about, and it's no dinner I should be getting, I'm thinking." And then a bright light dawning on her face, she clasped her withered hands, exclaiming, "Ah, I see it all!-it's all ready for me, I know it is; I've only got to send for it. Dear Lord, do'ee forgive my wicked old heart of unbelief. I just take it all, that Jesus died to get for me." From that day Betsy Ash had no more doubts; daily, hourly she sent up winged messengers of prayer to bring down blessings from her heavenly Master, never doubting His willingness to carry out His promises; and often and often did she silence some doubting heart by the simple exclamation of "Why, the Lord Jesus has promised!" reminding one of that reliance on the good lady's promise that had been used in God's goodness to bring light into her soul.

Oh, happy that your flocks are safe,
No single lamb astray!

But happier far for news to come
Before the break of day.

Four thousand years these skies the sun
Hath filled with golden light;
Four thousand years these silver stars
Have gemmed the brow of night.

But never sun or star hath shone,
In days or nights of old,
So wondrous as the vision fair
Which you shall soon behold.

For see the heavens are brightening now,
As if the sun should rise,
Not in the far horizon's brink,

But in the middle skies.

Oh, nearer, clearer, brighter still,
The radiance grows apace!

It is an angel. You can see
The glory of his face.

He speaks; now hearken to his voice,
Sweet as the songs of morn:
"To you this day in Bethlehem
A Saviour, Christ, is born.

"There, in a humble manger-bed,
The Lord of glory lies.

This is the news to you I bring,
And all beneath the skies."

And then arose a song so sweet;
The listening stars stood still,
To hear the choir of seraphim
That sung by Bethlehem's hill.

That sung of man new-born to God,
In Jesu's lowly birth;

Of glory in the heights of heaven,
And peace o'er all the earth.

Of pardon and goodwill to men,
To such as sin and stray;
Because of Him whose precious blood
Shall wash their sins away.

The stars were paling in the dawn,
The morning air was still,

As faded from the skies the light,
The glory from the hill.

Then went the men to Bethlehem,
To find that Child new-born,
Who is the Light of all the world,
Whose advent brings the morn.

Yes; there, in trust of human love,
The Saviour Jesus lay;

That men their trust on love Divine,
The love of God, might stay.

Oh, happy, happy shepherds! ye
To whom it hath been given,
To see that sight most wonderful
Of all beneath the heaven!

Strange it may seem such humble men,

Alone of all the earth,

Should hear the song the angels sang,
That told of Jesu's birth.

Nay, not so strange; the lowliest

In heart are nearest heaven; Unto the humblest evermore

Is highest honour given.

Walk thou in faith with God, thy Lord,

Be contrite before Him,

And glory from the Lord shall light
Thy skies that now are dim.

And thou thyself shalt hear entranced
The song His angel sings;

And see the Sun of Righteousness,
With healing in His wings.

Oh! thou shalt know the joy of God
Upon that blessed morn,

When in thy humble, contrite heart

A Saviour Christ is born.

R. R. T.