But ere she could it made a sudden stand,
And thrust the priceless ruby in her hand,
And sailing swiftly through the cottage door
Mounted the morning sky, and came no more!

THE DEAD.

I think about the dead by day,
I dream of them at night;
They seem to stand beside my chair,
Clad in the clothes they used to wear,
And by my bed in white.

The commonplaces of their lives,
The lightest words they said,
Revive in me, and give me pain,
And make me wish them back again,
Or wish that I were dead.

I would be kinder to them now,

Were they alive once more ;

Would kiss their cheeks, and kiss their hair,
And love them, like the angels there,

Upon the silent shore.

Frank Bottome.

THE OLD BOOK AND THE NEW.

He closed the book and made it fast,

The Master, whose I am;

And on the record of the past

He put my single name.

I prayed Him just to let me look
Its careless pages o'er ;

But, "No!" He said, "what 's in the book Is written evermore."

And then, along the line of years,

I saw the volumes stand;

I knew them all-through blinding tears
I recognized my hand.

Oh, could I but erase some deeds!
Some pages blank could fill !
"Nay, nay," He said, "for all is sealed
To judgment, good or ill.

"The past is past; no vain regrets
Can change a single line;

His hand, who time and judgment sets,
Puts this new book in thine.

Take it, thou hast no choice, 't is thine,
Nor canst thou aught conceal,

For conscience keeps a sleepless shrine,
And all things will reveal.

'Tis not the deed which thou hast wrought Should make thee hope or fear;

But that thyself-thy will-thy thought
Makes certain record there.

Each day but marks thee what thou art,-
God's balances are just ;

Not weight of deeds, but weight of heart,
And worth of simple trust.

“Go wash thee from thy sense of shame And deeper sense of sin ;

Seek this, and consciousness of blame
Will pass, with peace within.
So shall each day its work record,
And each revolving year
Before thy ever-living Lord
Its faithful witness bear."

THE BANNER OF THE KING.

Throw your banner, "In His Name," Out upon the New Year's wing; Far and wide your Lord proclaim, Sons and Daughters of The King.

Bear your heads erect, and meet
The rising day with open hand;
Kind of speech and swift of feet,
Scatter sunshine o'er the land.

Yours the broken heart to heal,
Yours the load of grief to share ;
Who their neighbor's woe can feel,
Find their mission anywhere.

Yours the wayward heart to win,
Yours the outcast to reclaim ;

Yours to lift the child of sin

From the burden of her shame.

Pure of heart and clean of thought,-
Life without and life within ;-
Like a garment richly wrought,
Fit for angels or for men.

Royalty in royal love,

Royalty in loving deed;
Show your lineage from above,
In the broadness of your creed.

Set against abounding sin,

More and more abounding grace; Redeeming love that takes you in, Would redeem the human race.

Catch the music of your song

From the theme the angels sing:
Fainter notes than they prolong
Are unworthy of your King.

Free as air the hope you raise;
Strong as light the truth you hold ;
Christ's the everlasting praise;

One the flock, within one fold.

Bow the knee, exalt the Son!

Wrong and hate before Him fall;

Let His will on earth be done,
God and Father over all.

Sons and Daughters of The King,
In the spirit of His word,
Joyful on the New Year's wing

Throw the banner of your Lord.

THEE FIRST AND LAST.

Thee first and last, my God, my King,
The opening year Thy praise shall sing ;
And while I tune my harp again,
My soul repeats her glad Amen!

I know not what may lie before,
I only see an open door;
I only feel a guiding hand
As duty answers love's command.

Better to me than open skies
That hope is veiled in dim surprise;
Each day unfolding from above
Some new, sweet mystery of Thy love.

What if my vision could command
The prospects of the opening land;
Would then my soul so closely cling
To Thee, my Father and my King?

Better my hand be still in Thine,
Be lost my will in will divine;
Where can a child so safe abide
As pressing to a Father's side?

Thee first and last, my God, my King,
The opening year Thy praise shall sing ;
And each succeeding day shall be
A fresh memorial, Lord, to Thee.