The day goes fast, my child! But is the night
Darker to me than day? In me is light!
Keep close to me, and every spectral band
Of fears shall vanish. I will take thy hand,
And through the night
Lead up to light
My child!

The way is long, my child! But it shall be
Not one step longer than is best for thee;

And thou shalt know, at last, when thou shalt stand

Safe at the goal, how I did take thy hand,

And quick and straight

Lead to heaven's gate

My child!

The path is rough, my child! But oh! how

sweet

Will be the rest, for weary pilgrims meet,

When thou shalt reach the borders of that land To which I lead thee, as I take thy hand,

And safe and blest

With me shall rest
My child!

The throng is great, my child! But at thy side
Thy Father walks; then be not terrified,
For I am with thee; will thy foes command
To let thee freely pass; will take thy hand,

And through the throng
Lead safe along

My child!

The cross is heavy, child!

Yet there was One

Who bore a heavier for thee: my Son,

My Well-beloved. For Him bear thine; and

stand

With Him at last; and, from thy Father's hand, The cross laid down,

Receive a crown,

My child!

barriet McEwen kimball.
1834.

ALL 'S WELL.

The day is ended. Ere I sink to sleep,
My weary spirit seeks repose in Thine;
Father! forgive my trespasses, and keep
This little life of mine.

With loving-kindness curtain thou my bed,
And cool in rest my burning pilgrim feet;
Thy pardon be the pillow for my head,-
So shall my sleep be sweet.

At peace with all the world, dear Lord, and Thee,
No fears my soul's unwavering faith can shake;
All's well, whichever side the grave for me
The morning light may break!

Margaret 3. Preston.

ABOUT 1835.

READY.

I would be ready, Lord,

My house in order set,

None of the work Thou gavest me
To do, unfinished yet.

I would be watching, Lord,

With lamp, well trimmed and clear, Quick to throw open wide the door, What time Thou drawest near.

I would be waiting, Lord,
Because I cannot know

If in the night or morning watch
I may be called to go.

I would be working, Lord,

Each day, each hour, for Thee; Assured that thus I wait Thee well, Whene'er Thy coming be.

I would be living, Lord,

As ever in Thine eye;

For whoso lives the nearest Thee
The fittest is to die.

Phillips Brooks.

1835.

O LITTLE TOWN OF BETHLEHEM.

O little town of Bethlehem,

How still we see thee lie!

Above thy deep and dreamless sleep
The silent hours go by.

Yet in thy dark streets shineth
The everlasting Light;

The hopes and fears of all the years
Are met in thee to-night.

For Christ is born of Mary,

And, gathered all above,

While mortals sleep, the angels keep
Their watch of wondering love.

O morning stars, together

Proclaim the holy birth!

And praises sing to God the King,
And peace to men on earth.

How silently, how silently,

The wondrous gift is given! So God imparts to human hearts The blessings of His heaven. No ear may hear His coming ; But in this world of sin,

Where meek souls will receive Him still, The dear Christ enters in.

O holy Child of Bethlehem,
Descend to us, we pray!

Cast out our sin, and enter in ;
Be born in us to-day.

We hear the Christmas angels
The great glad tidings tell :
Oh, come to us, abide with us,
Our Lord Emmanuel !

Unknown.

UNSEEN.

At the spring of an arch in the great north tower, High up on the wall, is an angel's head;

And beneath it is carved a lily flower,

With delicate wings at the side outspread.

They say that the sculptor wrought from the face

Of his youth's lost love, of his promised bride, And when he had added the last sad grace

To the features, he dropped his chisel and died.

And the worshippers throng to the shrine below, And the sight-seers come with their curious

eyes,

But deep in the shadow, where none may know Its beauty, the gem of his carving lies.