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the institutions that seek man's salvation is handing this cup to those whom you can not personally reach. Prayer crowns all it is a part of its mysterious nature and action, that, when bowed at the mercy-seat, you can reach any part of the world, and convey blessings to its remotest inhabitant.

Kirk.

NOTHING TO SPARE.

"I have found nothing to spare" is the plea of sordid reluctance. But a far different sentiment will be formed amid the scenes of the last day. Men now persuade themselves that they have nothing to spare till they can support a certain style of luxury, and have provided for the establishment of children. But in the awful hour, when you and I, and all pagan nations, shall be called from our graves to stand before the bar of Christ, what comparison will these objects bear to the salvation of a single soul? Eternal Mercy! let not the blood of heathen millions be found in our skirts! Standing, as I now do, in the sight of a dissolving universe, beholding the dead arise, the world in flames, the heavens fleeing away, all nations convulsed with terror, or wrapt in the vision of the Lamb, I pronounce the conversion of a single pagan of more

value than all the wealth Omnipotence ever produced. On such an awful subject it becomes me to speak with caution; but I solemnly avow that were there but one heathen in the world, and he in the remotest corner of Asia, if no greater duty confined us at home, it would be worth the pains of all the people in America to embark together to carry the gospel to him.

Put your soul in his soul's stead; or rather consent for a moment to change condition with the savages on our borders. Were you posting on to the judgment of the great day in the darkness and pollution of pagan idolatry, and were they living in wealth in this very district of the Church, how hard would it seem for your neighbors to neglect your misery! When you should open your eyes in the eternal world, and discover the ruin in which they had suffered you to remain, how would you reproach them that they did not even sell their possessions, if no other means were sufficient, to send the gospel to you! My flesh trembles at the prospect! But they shall not reproach us. It shall be known in heaven that we could pity our brethren. We will send them all the relief in our power, and will enjoy the luxury of reflecting what happiness we may entail on generations yet unborn.

Dr. Griffin.

DUTY AND LOVE.

Stern Duty? Why rest on the breast of thy mother?
Why follow in joy the proud steps of thy brother?
Why flutters thy heart at the voice of that other

Who calls thee from mother and brother away? When the lip clings to thine, why so fondly dost press it? When the loved arm encircles, why smile and caress it? That eye's gentle glancing, why doth my heart bless it? Why love, trust, or labor for loved ones, I pray?

There's a Dearer than mother, whose heart is my pillow; A Truer than brother's foot guides o'er the billow; There's a Voice I shall hear at the grave-guarding willow

When they leave me to sleep in my turf-covered bed. There's a Lip with soft love-words for ever o'erflowing; An Eye in which love-thoughts for ever are glowing; A Hand never weary of guarding, bestowing;

A Heart which for me has in agony bled.

Stern Duty? No: Love is my ready feet winging;
On duty's straight path love her roses is flinging;
In love to the Friend of my heart I am clinging;

My "home" is his smile, my "far-off" his frown.
He shaped the frail goblet which death waits to shiver,
He casts every sun-ray on life's gloomy river;
They're safest when, guarded by Maker and Giver,

My laurels and life at his feet I lay down.

Stern Duty? Came death to thy door a prey-seeker,
Didst thou mark the eye glazing, the pulse growing weaker,
And clasped in thy hand were a life-brimming beaker,

In duty, stern duty, the draught wouldst thou bring?
Sawest thou a rich crown to thy brother's brow bending,
At his feet a black pit, its death-vapors upsending,
As thou sprang'st to his side, voice, eye, and hand lending,
Is it only stern duty thy footsteps would wing?

Away to my brother, the orphaned of heaven!
Away with the life-draught my Saviour has given !
Away, till the web Time is weaving be riven!

Then my wings and my harp and my crown evermore!
But back this one prayer my full spirit is throwing, —
By these warm gushing tears that I leave thee in going,
By all that thou lov'st, by thy hopes ever glowing,

Cheer thou the heart-orphans that throng at thy door!
Mrs. E. C. Judson.

NOT IN VAIN.

"I have labored in vain," a teacher said,

And her brow was marked by care,

--

"I have labored in vain!" She bowed her head,

And bitter and sad were the tears she shed

In that moment of dark despair.

"I am weary

and worn, and my

hands are weak,

And my courage is well-nigh gone;

For none give heed to the words I speak ;

And in vain for a promise of fruit I seek
Where the seed of the Word is sown."

And again with a sorrowful heart she wept —
For her spirit with grief was stirred-
Till the night grew dark; and at last she slept,
And a silent calm o'er her spirit crept,

And a whisper of "peace" was heard.

And she thought in her dreams that the soul took flight

To a blessed and bright abode :

She saw a throne of dazzling light,

And harps were ringing, and robes were white,—

Made white in a Saviour's blood.

And she saw such a countless throng around

As she never had seen before :

Their brows with jewels of light were crowned,
And sorrow and sighing no place had found,
For the troubles of time were o'er.

Then a white-robed maiden came forth and said, "Joy, joy! for thy trials are past!

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