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the overwhelming trouble or the terrible temptation is so bravely borne that lookers-on marvel and glorify God? Look at Abraham lending himself to deception with failing faith in Egypt and at Gerar, yet meeting the great trial of his life, which he recognised as coming from God, with such unflinching purpose and unwavering trust. Alas! that we should so often weary in running with the footmen. Is it not that in great troubles we are brought face to face with God's power and our own impotence; so we do not strive to bear them alone, but, fleeing at once to our stronghold, prove the truth of the words, “A very present help in time of trouble," and rest in the assurance, My grace is sufficient for thee;" while in the every-day cases that crowd thick upon us, if we once allow them to accumulate, we see vexations too small ofttimes to take to God, or that we in our pride of heart think we can battle with, or bear up against alone?

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Alone! then swells that trivial earth-born care

Into a burden great. The tiny thorn,
Unnoticed else, frets inward, rankling there,
And wearily the daily cross is borne !

Old John Newton used to say it required as much grace to bear well the breaking of a china cup as the loss of an only Truly the same grace is needed. And herein we see the greatness and condescension and love of our God, that we may cast all our care, no matter what, upon Him; that on Him we may roll our burden, no matter of what composed. And if we reflect that these small troubles are part of the discipline and perfecting process by which our God is fitting us as "polished corner-stones" for our exact niche in His temple-like the emery-powder or steel- filings which, though grating substances in themselves, are used to give the finest polish-shall we not be content to count each one a blessing, one of the all things working for cur good? Shall we weary in running with the footmen? Rather shall we not consider Him that endured such contradiction of

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sinners against Himself, lest we be wearied and faint in our minds?" Knowing that

There are briers besetting every path,

Which call for patient care;

There is a thorn in every lot,

And an earnest need for prayer.

Let us remember "Thy God hath commanded thy strength," and that "He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might He increaseth strength;" so that, waiting upon God, we may renew our strength, and "run, and not be weary," and "walk, and not faint." (Isa. xl. 29, 31.)

The Anchor that will Hold.

I

AM anchored, I am anchored

Safely to the Saviour's side,
All the raging billows cannot

My small bark from Him divide.
I have tried, and I have proved it,
Till my faith has waxen bold,
For I know by sweet experience
'Tis an anchor that will hold.

O'er the stormy billows riding,
All my simple trust is stayed
In the Pilot's power of guiding,
In His mighty arm to save.
Rougher seas may yet await me,

Blacker clouds my bark enfold,
But this thought shall still elate me,
Mine's an anchor that will hold.

Well I know I shall be landed
In the haven safe at last,
And my happy bark be stranded

Where all stormy seas are past.

For I cannot be mistaken,

While I trust with faith so beld,
And a confidence unshaken

In the anchor that will hold.

S. M.

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The Scottish Martyrs.

WAS a wild scene in Scotland, strangely drear; On the smooth beach broke the inflowing flood; With none but God and hope their hearts to cheer, Bound to the stake two Christian martyrs stood.

In Death's cold arms one fated form appears,

Round whose white locks the murmuring waters fret ; They deemed 'twould wake the younger martyr's fears To mark her sister's anguish; for as yet

'The shade of many summers had not cast
On that fair brow the lines of thought and care,
But o'er her soul a mystic change had passed,
And God's own seal was on that forehead fair.

But they who "kill the body" could not reach
The "
Higher Rock" to which her faith had flown;
Though now upon the consecrated beach

One martyr stood alone-yet not alone!

Say, oh fair earth, hadst thou no tie to bind

This gentle heart to thee?-no human love

That pleaded to a bosom fond and kind,

And won where Death could not appal, or threat'nings move?

Yes there were ties, and love had pleaded sore,
"Come back! what is my life unblent with thine ?"
But if her cheek a deadlier pallor wore,

She laid her love upon devotion's shrine.

Lo! round her feet th' impatient ocean flows;
The tide unbidden hath no call to wait;
Sounds in her ear the tumult of her foes,

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"Maiden! retract thy faith ere 'tis too late!

Speak loyal words, and thou shalt yet be free

'God save the king!" Then, as the waves rose higher, And loved ones wept, serenely calm spake she,

"God save him!-his salvation I desire!"

"She's saved!"-Ah! no; 'tis but a short respite!
She spurned the test they fain from her had wrung;
And stony hearts, with cruel, ruthless might,
Back to Death's arms the fated victim flung!

But still she faltered not-from earth's fear free,
Her gentle lips, to all revilings dumb,
Whispered, as she beheld the gathering sea,
"Dear Lord, receive my soul! Saviour, I come !"

Then there was peace amid the ocean's roar;
The setting sun o'er western hills went down ;
A bounding wave that kissed the shell-strewn shore
Placed on the martyr's brow her star-gemmed crown!

Living Results.

HAVE often had occasion to remark what a train of weighty consequences—consequences for eternity -hinge upon apparently trivial circumstances;

something which seems to happen, as the worldling would say, "by chance," and which frequently is on the point of being postponed, or absolutely hindered. The cause appears quite inadequate to the effect; in this, as in all else, manifesting the power and wisdom of God, who by it works out His grand plans, weaving together the insignificant threads into the beautiful tracery of a Christian life, or many glad lives, and into the mystery, not yet unravelled, of a blessed eternity. Men make elaborate preparations to work out their great schemes; the thought and care are apparent: God moves silently, but surely, and His designs are wholly shrouded. None know "what a day may bring forth," or what may result from the most trivial act. In this view nothing is small; and I have often thought, too, in this way we may read the text, "One day is with the Lord as a thousand years." We all know that to His mighty mind, which overleaps time and distance, a vast period is but as a day; but do we equally remember that a period so brief that we squander it without a thought, and see it pass without regret, is in His sight as that vast era? He sees its bearings, its formations, its train of sequences. Oh, pause and think of it, if this meets the eye of any one who has sought "to kill time," "One day is with the Lord" (before whom we must all stand “ as a thousand years."

"1

I have heard one say of the large family of a Christian who in faith had trained them for Jesus, "What an offering for the Lord!" But I thought, "What a boon to a guilty world!" Who could estimate the influence of thirteen converted souls? I gazed forward, and saw in perspective thirteen earnest men and women "bringing their sheaves with them," and heard, as it were, the sound of "a great

1 2 Peter iii. 8.

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