most intelligent and active in the Turkish empire, and destined in the breaking up of this government, we believe, to great influence, is gradually yielding to the power of truth. Should this good work advance among these nominal Christians, until a pure Christianity is suffered to give its character to the nation, there will then be found in the very heart of this empire a regenerating power as yet unknown. The Moslem will then have a true standard by which to test the Bible and the Koran; and it is not too much to hope that even he, surrounded by such influences, will be brought to lay down his native barbarism and put on the spirit of Christ.

It is a singular fact, and one, probably, destined to have no small influence upon the destiny of Islamism, that the followers of the prophet have been for centuries separated by a schism of the most invete⚫ rate character. Taking its rise in a conflict for the fourth Caliphate, between the partisans of Ali and Mowiyah, it has perpetuated itself to this hour, and now forms an impassable gulf between the Ottoman and the Persian. The latter has far more sympathy with Christian nations than with the sultan. Christianity hopes much from his superior liberality and intelligence. The Persian and the eastern Mohammedans generally regard Ali with great reverence, and in their worship render unto him almost divine homage. He seems to be, in their view, in part divine, if we are to judge from their songs rather than their

creed. The following lyric, addressed by one of their poets to Ali, we trust one day will be sung alike by the Schiite and the Sonnite, by the Persian and the Ottoman, to our great Redeemer and incarnate God:

"Beside thy glories, O most great!
Dim are the stars, and weak is fate.
Compared to thy celestial light,
The very sun is dark as night.
Thine edicts destiny obeys;

The sun shows but thy mental rays.

"Thy merits form a boundless sea
That rolls on to eternity;

To heaven its mighty waves ascend,
O'er it the skies admiring bend.

And when they view its waters clear,
The wells of Eden dark appear.

"The treasures that the earth conceals,
The wealth that human toil reveals,
The jewels of the gloomy mine,
Those that on regal circlets shine;

Are idle toys and worthless shows,
Compared with what thy grace bestows.

"Mysterious being! None can tell
The attributes in thee that dwell;
None can thine essence comprehend ;
To thee should every mortal bend--
For 'tis by thee that man is given
To know the high behests of heaven.

"The ocean's floods round earth that roll,
And lave the shores from pole to pole-
Beside the eternal fountain's stream

A single drop, a bubble seem;
That fount's a drop beside the sea
Of grace and love we find in thee."

Recovery from Sickness.

To health again,

From bed of anguish, grief, and pain,

I have been raised :—

Great God of heaven, thy name be praised!

Over my soul

Did waters deep of sorrow roll :-

Past days ill-spent,

To my sore pains their shadows lent.

Warnings of death!

May every future fleeting breath

Echo your voice

So I shun sin, the soul destroys:

That halcyon peace

Be mine, when death my soul release;

Then heaven's high grace

Shall fill my grateful songs through ceaseless days.

The Last Interview.

BY MRS. LYDIA BAXTER.

THE parting hour had come-the appointed work Of Christ on earth was done, for he had borne, On Calvary's cross, the curse for guilty man, Had suffer'd, died, and triumph'd o'er the grave. Upon the eastern slope of Olivet

The chosen ones with Christ their Master stood.

Upon their listening ears his parting words,
Like notes of heavenly music, sweetly fell:
66 Be
ye my witnesses to Israel's seed
And to the Gentile race. In Judea's land
And in Jerusalem, Samaria,

And e'en to earth's remotest limits,* tell
How I have wept, and groan'd, and died,
And burst in twain the fetters of the tomb."

He stood with hands and eyes upraised to Heaven; And as he bless'd the astonish'd band, a cloud

* Acts i. 8.

Of dazzling brightness veil'd him from their sight. Then songs were heard in Heaven.

heads,

"Lift up your

Ye gates, and let the King of Glory in."

And prayers were heard on earth, in reverence breathed

Forth by that lowly band, who prostrate bow'd
And worshipp'd HIM, who to the realm of bliss
Had gone to take his ancient seat beside

The Father's throne.

Full eighteen hundred years

Have run their race, and countless millions down
To death have sunk, since thus the Saviour breathed
Sweet words of mercy for a fallen world.

And millions yet ne'er heard that Jesus died.
But lo! the blessed time is drawing nigh,
When Zion's slumbering watchmen shall awake,
And sound the alarm from Mount Moriah's shade
Gentile and Jew in love shall meekly bow
Beneath the standard of the Saviour's cross,
And tell the triumphs of redeeming love.
The scatter'd sons of Israel's chosen race
The olive and the clust'ring vine shall prune,
And worship on their own beloved hill
The Father and the ever-blessed Son.
And soon shall sable Ethiopia, too,

Her hands stretch forth, in praises glorious,
To Him whose precious blood salvation brought.
The isles that speck the mighty deep shall hear,