The Two Rivers. 103 of the River of Life and live, a hundred shall drink of the River of Death and die! Could all the lost ones that have perished in that river re-visit earth, they would form an army vaster than the world has ever seen. And the river is flowing still, and men and women, and boys and and girls, are sipping its dark, delusive waters now! The river has many naines, but one shall speak its true nature: "Delusive!" for they who drink of this river seldom realise that it may prove to them the River of Death; but ever and anon some daring one, maddened by drinking of the river, rushes in and is lost, and men wonder that their fellows cannot take in moderation of this poisonous riverunconscious of the fact that he who begins to sip can never say, with any degree of certainty, that he shall not be borne upon the bosom of the river, its velocity increasing as it nears the rapids, until he, too, topples over and is lost in the abyss below. But enough of this river. Who has not marked its murky tide? Who has not suffered from its poisonous qualities? Is there no remedy, no healing for those who once have sinned? Yes, there is another river-the river giving natural life-the Heaven-given donation to man that he may drink, and wash, and live-physically. The children cluster in the Bands of Hope; they pledge to the pure, sweet river, and grow up strong to do battle against the alcoholic stream. Young men and maidens quaff of the life-giving cup, and find no sting, no poison there. Mirthfully they sing the praises of pure water in strains the drinkers of the alcoholic flood can never reach. The aged find this river abundant to supply the purposes for which the wise Creator gave it. It leaves no palsied hand, no gouty foot, no aching head, no muddled brain! No marred domestic bliss, no infant's early grave, no orphan's piteous wail, no broken-hearted widow's tears, tell its triumphs! Bounteous and health-giving, like the Eden River, it is a blessed type of the sweet pure river of life which springs hard by the throne of God, of which whoever drinks shall live, and live eternally. CAM REV. G. T. COSTER. AME a gentle, gentle knocking, And my boy's heart heard the knocking, Once heard, ne'er forgotten more: Came again the Stranger knocking, Sued for one, but one word more ; Came again the Stranger knocking, Eagerly my eyes did pore, When the silence of the midnight Searched me, searched me to the core: Not a day but heard the knocking, Knocking at the bolted door : Till I moaned in anger, 66 Stranger, Came, still came again the Stranger. Died His voice,-I heard no more! Never Yield! Comes no more that Stranger knocking Till He, weary, coines no more. O to hear that gentle Stranger Never yield! Pelted though you be with scorn, Never yield, never yield! Never yield! Let conviction forth from you Cleaving all obstructions through! Never yield, never yield! 105 Firmly utter what you know, Truth can bear the hardest blow; Never yield, never yield! TH HEY call me "Little Chatterbox," I have to talk so much, because I have so much to say. And oh! I have so many friends- I love papa and my mamma, But I love God the best of all: He keeps me all the night; And when the morning comes again, I think it is so nice to live; And yet, if I should die, The Lord would send his angels down The Voice of the Tempter. THE VOICE OF THE TEMPTER. A. L. WESTCOMBE. RINK this ;-'tis the cup of pleasure, D1 It will quicken thy spirit's flow, And the festive scene around thee With a brighter light will glow. Unto the weak and the foolish, Too tempting the draught may be; But thou art strong in thy wisdom, There is no danger for thee. "Not so, O beguiling Spirit, That dwell'st in the sparkling wine; The way where thou would'st lead me, Drink this;-'tis the cup of cheering; And be for a moment blest. "No; I will wait with patience; The clouds are about me to-day, Thy light would be only a marsh-fire, Or a lightning flash through the darkness, Leaving a tenfold night. Thou would'st lift me up for a moment, To plunge me in greater woe: The higher the crest of the billow, The deeper the gulf below." Drink this;-thou art worn with watching By the bed of sickness and pain; This shall nerve thy hand for its duty, 107 |