DAY BY DAY.

"GIVE us this day our daily bread,"
The force to toil, the strength to bear.
By Thee the day-long march is led,
Thy hand the manna will prepare.

"Give us this day our daily bread,”
Thyself to be our portion give;
That food of which the Saviour said,
“The man that eateth it shall live.”

To Thee have passed our yesterdays,
Our morrows still are out of sight,
And all our service, all Thy praise,
Lie here between the dawn and night.

Thou in Thy perfect peace wilt fold

All those who love this narrow bound, From fears that bar, regrets that hold, The pressure of the time around.

Our hearts are weak, the years are long,
We could not bear the whole of life;
God has not made our harness strong
For more than one day's watch and strife.

Our daily bread thus give us, Lord,
And teach us not to gather more;
Poor are we in our narrow hoard,
Rich only nourished from Thy store.

LUCY F. MASSEY.

THE HOPE BEYOND.

NUMBERS xxi. 4.

How often forgetting the crown,
And the palm, and the vietor's array,
In sackcloth we choose to sit down,
"Discouraged because of the way!"

Disheartened because of the foe;

And weary of bearing the cross;— Cast down when the brooks cease to flow; And the gold is obscured by its dross.

Then the cross is a burden and grief,
And the yoke is a toil and a care;
Though 'tis only our own unbelief,
Which makes them so heavy to bear.

How often to Marah we flee,

And there pitch our tent in the waste, Forgetting that marvellous "Tree” Which maketh it sweet to the taste!

We pine for the blessings foregone,
While still beside Marah we dwell;
Though to Elim we ought to press on,

And be counting each palm-tree and well.

Soon the shoes shall be loosed from the feet, And the staff shall be dropped from the hand, And the wilderness manna so sweet,

Shall be changed for the "corn of the land."

Then grace

shall with glory be crowned And night shall dissolve into day :— Oh! the country for which we are bound, Is worth all the griefs of the way.

PRAISE AND PRAYER.
CAN words alone the first display?
Prove we the last by bended knee?
The right to praise, the power to pray,
Must both be given us, Lord, by Thee.
Thy Spirit must the heart prepare,

And faith in Thy dear Son be known,
Before the voice of praise or prayer

Can rise like incense to Thy throne.

Then give the power Thy grace imparts,
The love of Jesus shown of yore;
That praiseless lives and prayerless hearts,
May prove our guilt and shame no more.

BARTON.

FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS.

WHEN the hours of day are numbered,
And the voices of the night

Wake the better soul that slumbered,
To a holy, calm delight.

Ere the evening lamps are lighted,
And, like phantoms grim and tall,
Shadows from the fitful firelight
Dance upon the parlour wall.

Then the forms of the departed
Enter at the open door:
The beloved, the true-hearted,

Come to visit us once more; *

He, the young and strong, who cherished
Noble longings for the strife,

By the roadside fell and perished,
Weary with the march of life!

They, the holy ones and weakly,
Who the cross of suffering bore,
Folded their pale hands so meekly,
Spake with us on earth no more!

And with them the Being Beauteous,
Who unto my youth was given,
More than all things else to love me,
And is now a saint in heaven.

With a slow and noiseless footstep
Comes that messenger divine,
Takes the vacant chair beside me,
Lays her gentle hand in mine.

And she sits and gazes at me
With those deep and tender eyes,
Like the stars, so still and saint-like,
Looking downward from the skies.

Uttered not, yet comprehended,
Is the spirit's voiceless prayer,
Soft rebukes in blessings ended,
Breathing from her lips of air.

Oh, though oft depressed and lonely,
All my fears are laid aside,

If I but remember only

Such as these have lived and died.

LONGFELLOW.

ALONE, YET NOT ALONE.
ALONE, alone, ah! weary soul,
In all the world alone I stand,
With none to wed their hearts to mine,
Or link in mine a loving hand.

Oh! tell me not that I have those

Who own the ties of blood and name; Or pitying friends who love me well, And dear returns of friendship claim.

I have, I have! but none can heal,
And none can see my inward woe ;
And the deep thoughts within me veiled,
No other heart but mine shall know.

And yet amid my sins and shames

The shield of God is o'er me thrown ;
And 'neath its awful shade I feel
Alone,-yet, oh, not all alone!

Not all alone! and though my life

Be dragged along the stainèd earth, O God! I feel Thee near me still,

And thank Thee for my birth.

G

FARRAR.