And now while on the earth I stay, my motto this shall be,

"To live no longer to myself, but Him who

And graven on my inmost soul this word of truth divine,

"They that turn many to the Lord bright as the stars shall shine."

S. S. Treasury.

Evening.

ATHER! by Thy love and power
Comes again the evening hour:
Light has vanished, labours cease,
Weary creatures rest in peace.
Thou, whose genial dews distil

On the lowliest weed that grows,
Father! guard our couch from ill,
Lull Thy children to repose.
We to Thee ourselves resign,
Let our latest thoughts be Thine.

Saviour! to thy Father bear
This our feeble evening prayer;
Thou hast seen how oft to-day
We like sheep have gone astray :
Worldly thoughts, and thoughts of pride,

Wishes to Thy cross untrue,

Secret faults and undescried,

Meet Thy spirit-piercing view:

Blessed Saviour! yet through Thee Pray that these may pardoned be.

Holy Spirit! breath of balm!
Fall on us in evening's calm:
Yet awhile before we sleep,
We, with Thee, will vigils keep;
Lead us on our sins to muse,
Give us truest penitence,
Then the love of God infuse,
Breathing humble confidence;
Melt our spirits, mould our will,
Soften, strengthen, comfort still.

Blessed Trinity! be near

Through the hours of darkness drear;
When the help of man is far,
Ye more clearly present are;
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,

Watch o'er our defenceless head,
Let your angels' guardian host
Keep all evil from our bed,
Till the flood of morning rays
Wake us to a song of praise.

Sleep.

HEN in the silvery moonlight

The lengthen'd shadows fall,
And the silence of night is dropping
Like the gentle dew on all;

When the river's tranquil murmur
Doth lulling cadence keep,
And blossoms close their weary eyes,
He giveth all things sleep.

From the little bud of the daisy,

And the young bird in the nest,
To the humble bed of the peasant child,
All share that quiet rest.

It comes to the poor man's garret,
And the captive's lonely cell:

On the sick man's tossing, feverish couch,

It lays a blessed spell.

And the Holy One who sends it down,

For a healing and a balm,

Doth bless it with a mighty power
Of peacefulness and calm.

He counts the buds that fade and droop,
And marks all those who weep;

And closes weary, aching eyes,

With the holy kiss of sleep:

The truest comfort He has given
For all earth's pain and woe,
Until that glorious life beyond

Nor tears nor sleep shall know.

Mrs. Broderip.

Good Night.

OOD night, good night,

Now fades the light,

And darkness spreads her wings;
The spirit of sleep,

Soft dews doth weep,

And nature her vesper sings.

Sweet visions rest

Each aching breast,

Softly as dews distil;

Eased be the strain

Of the wearied brain,
Each care-worn heart be still.

And as the gleams

Of the moon's pale beams,

Silver the woodlands wide,
So be there given

All peace from heaven,

Thy light at eventide.

And thoughts of home,
At night which come,
To dwellers far away,

Draw thee above,

To the home we love,
Where it is always day.

And so abide,

Each eventide,

Nearer that land of peace,

Whose golden light

Fades not in night,

Whose songs can never cease.

For all Thy care this day
Our grateful thanks we pay,
And to our Father pray,
Bless us to-night.

Jesus Emmanuel,

Come in Thy love to dwell

In hearts contrite;

For many sins we grieve,
But we Thy grace receive,
And in Thy word believe,
Bless us to-night.

N

L. R.