FEY WILL BE DONE, nor MINE.

“ And He said, Abba, Father, all things are possible unto Thee; take away this cup from Me: nevertheless not what I will, but what Thou wilt.” . . .

MARK XIV. S

Thy will not mine, how great soe'er my crosses,

Patient I'll bear what Thy word doth ordain-
Remembering that the heaviest earthly losses,
Shall, all combined, prove one eternal gain :

Then shall Thy will be done, and mine.

YKE MINSTRELØY OF EARTH.*

“ And it came to pass, when the evil spirit from God was upon Saul, that David took an harp, and played with his hand : so Saul was refreshed, and was well, and the evil spirit departed from him.” . . . . 1 SAMUEL xvi. 23.

THE MINSTRELSY OF EARTH.

And raise the thoughts of triflers

From earth to the blue sky, And bend their souls in worship

Of Him who reigns on high. 0, soft Æolian sighings!

O, cataracts' ceaseless roar! 0, chimes from the old belfry

Of gray cathedral hoar !
O, bells on Sabbath morning

Across the waving corn! 0, whispers of the forest!

0, Switzer's mountain horn! O, winds' funereal dirges

O’er ocean's moaning face! 0, earthquake's crash stupendous !

0, thunder's awful bass ! 0, splashing of the fountain !

O, humming of the bee ! 0, wailing of the tempest!

O, sobbing of the sea !
O, sweet and dulcet warblings

From many a leafy nest !
0, words of love and kindness

From sympathizing breast ! 0, ringing laugh of childhood !

0, strains of lute and lyre! 0, deep, majestic organ !

0, church's human choir ! Your lighter sounds are soothing

Like some soft hallowed spell
That when the heart is aching

Befits its sadness well!
As when on wound that's smarting

Is poured a healing balm,
So on the mind that's anguished

Ye breathe a blessed calm :
And your deeper tones, O music,

Inspire man's heart and voice, And bid him glorify his God

And evermore rejoice,
And to the great Creator

Of every blessed sound
Assist to join the chorus

From earth's remotest bound.
Then oh! Jehovah's servants

Bring all your several parts-
Ye Mendelssohns and Beethovens !

Ye Handels and Mozarts !
Loud swell Creation's anthem

O’er every shore and sea,
Till with the host of the redeemed

Ye praise the glorious Three !

Che WOOER AND Cke WOOED.

“My Beloved spake and said unto me, Rise up, My love, My fair one, and come away.” —Song of Sol. 11. 10.

THE WOOER.
ROM these trifling scenes of lightness

Rise, My love, and come away ;
I will lead to scenes of brightness-
Scenes of Everlasting Day.”

THE WOOED.
“Here indeed I've nought but pleasure,

Here my life is bright and gay:
Shall I quit my heart's best treasure ?
Let me be : go Thou Thy way.”

THE WOOER.
“ Greater joy than mortal knoweth

I can give thee far away;
Sweetest joy that ever floweth,
Rise, My love without delay.”

THE WOOED.
“Nay, I bid Thee, get Thee gone!

Odious are Thy grave advances :
I, indeed, will not be torn
From the timbrels and the dances."

THE WOOER.
“Of thy ragged robes divest thee,

Quit thy gaudy, showy toys;
I'll with raiment white invest thee,
And with solid lasting joys."

THE WOOED.
“Whence then is Thy raiment's whiteness ?

What then are Thy lasting joys ?
Where then is Thy home of brightness
That no grief or pain alloys ? "

THE WOOER.
“In My blood thy robes I'll bleach thee;

Life with Me is joy unending :
Of My home I'll further teach thee
When thy steps are thither tending."

THE WOOED.
“If Thy love endures for ever

Pure and unalloyed and free,
Naught from Thee my heart shall sever,
Take me, loved One, home with Thee.”

THE WOOER.
“ Thou wilt ne'er regret the hour

When thou gav'st thy love to Me;
Mortal knoweth not the power

Of Mine own great love for thee.”

YKE TINE AND YKE BRARCE.

“I am the true Vine, and my Father is the Husbandman. Every branch in Me that beareth not fruit He taketh away: and every branch that beareth fruit, He purgeth it that it may bring forth more fruit." . . . . John xv. 1, 2.

THE BRANCH.
WAKE me more fruitful, O my Lord, that I may ever be

Laden with bunches full and ripe, acceptable to Thee;
Bunches from which Thou may'st express the rich and ruddy wine,

Bunches that are no shame to Thee, the true and only Vine."

THE VINE.

“Would'st thou a branch more fruitful be with glorious bunches crowned ?

Then o'er thy treasures and thy joys cast a fond look around;
Find that thou holdest now most dear : count it no longer thine-
Cast it away: it cumbereth the true and only Vine.”

THE BRANCH.
“Over my treasures and my joys, I've cast my grateful eyes,

And find that stocks and shares and gold are what I chiefly prize;
These would I gladly cast away if they were really mine :
But they support my heavy weight, and so relieve the Vine.”

THE VINE.
“ The Vine requires no help from thee, nor from thy hoarded store;

The sap Divine supports and flows, and permeates each pore:
So cast away thy golden crutch, and ere long thou shalt see
How the life-blood that's in My veins shall flow as well through thee.”

THE BRANCH.
I've cast away my golden crutch, and now I clearly see,

How with Thy life-blood in my veins I shall more fruitful be;
With money now no more to heed, I give my constant care,
To my bright and bonny baby-boy, the richest cluster there."

THE VINE.
“That richest cluster now is ripe, its ripeness shall be proved;

It shall no longer bear thee down, but be at once removed ;
Then, with this source of weakness gone, again I will essay
To look for richer, riper fruit upon a future day.”

* * THE BRANCH. * *
“Oh! stay, my Lord, and cut not there; Thou makest a mistake:

Thou hast had all my bunches: there are no more to take:
But now Thou stabbest through myself—my body, soul, and life
Oh! stay Thy hand ere 'tis too late; Thou cuttest off my wife!”

THE VINE.
“When thou wast young I thought it well that thou should'st have a wife,

To help, support, and comfort thee, and bear thee on in life;
But now she tangleth herself too much about thy heart,
And bears thee down ; so bid farewell, for then she must depart.”

THE BRANCH.
“ Then cut and prune, if so Thou wilt; Thou knowest what is best;

Let but Thy sap course through my veins; to Thee I leave the rest :
If but Thy sap shall nourish me I pray that I may shine

A branch luxuriant upon the true and only Vine.”