This date marks the period when the days begin to lengthen, and the triumph of light over darkness Human Questionings seemed symbolic of His advent, who proclaimed Himself the "Light of the world." In heathen nations, where sun-worship prevailed, this had long been celebrated as a festal season. Instead of shunning the day on this account, the Church found in this fact a second and strong reason for adopting it. The time had always been a joyous one; and especially in Rome, where unusual license during the days of the winter solstice was allowed even to slaves, it was thought safer to turn the thoughts of Christian converts to the joys of heaven than to risk their unguarded exposure to the gross temptations of earth. Consequently it was deemed both prudent and politic to displace the heathen saturnalia by the feast of Christmastide. Traces of the old heathen customs are still found in the doings peculiar to the day. In our own country two of those survive, in decorating our homes with holly and mistletoe, and in the burning of the Yule log. Whether it is either safe or right to add other days of special remembrance to the one day which commemorates the higher birth of Him who is the First-begotten from the dead admits of grave question. The outcome of it in saints' days, with which Rome so plentifully besprinkled the Christian year, speedily became fruitful in evil, and is a warning against departure from Scriptural simplicity, however desirable such a departure may seem. Be that as it may, the day has gained such a hold on the heart of Christendom as to make it impossible altogether to ignore it. If it is "regarded to the Lord," it may undoubtedly be found helpful in strengthening both our affection and our hope. It is pre-eminently a time of happy family reunions, and should remind us of the larger family in which the children of God, however scattered now, are all to be united when the Saviour returns. Is the custom of sending gifts a remembrance of the GREAT GIFT the day is designed to commemorate? At all events, let us not forget to thank God for His unspeakable gift, and let us remember also that He who gave to us His Son says to us now, "MY SON, GIVE ME THINE HEART." TH Thy Light is Come. "Arise, shine; for thy light is come." 'HY Light is come, and, in this vale of tears Oh! child of light! amid the shadows dim Behold by faith the bright and morning star, and Faith's Answers. OR, Mona's Doubts and Madge's Faith.* BY AGNES GIBERNE. M Bible, sat down in the white easy-chair, with a candle by her side, and began to read. ONA, according to of out Or rather, she tried to begin. Wearily and listlessly her eyes travelled down the lines through the greater part of à chapter. And then it struck her that she had taken in the sense of not one single verse; so she went over it a second time, with just the same success. A third time; but she broke off in the middle hopelessly, and leant back in her chair, clasping her hands over her eyes with a bitter sigh. Only a few weeks back she had read those same words to her mother, and had seen them full of heavenly peace and joy. And they were nothing to her now. Senselessly and drearily, as the dead autumn leaf falls from the half-bare tree, fell those cold Bible-words on Mona's heart-those utterances which had once seemed instinct with such fervent loving life. Why were they so different? In old days she could scarcely open upon a chapter in the Bible which had not its living holy power came ever to her spirit now. lesson for her soul. No divinely-sent message of sweet and How could it come? For even as she read dark questionings came rising in her heart, like a cloud between her and the light. Or, as with the Pilgrim Good-Intent, when he fled through bewildering underground passages, from the false Philosopher's house, which he had rashly entered-as with him, so with Mona, did clouds of winged creatures, called Doubts, flap thickly around, hiding with their rustling wings the shining of the holy page before her. And Mona had allowed these questionings to hold sway, till at last she had lost all power to set them aside. What to believe, and what not to believe! How to reconcile the seemingly conflicting elements of revealed truth! Whether there were reality in Madge Hardwicke's faith on the one hand, or in Mr. Chetwynd's unbelief on the other! What of prayer and foreknowledge? and what of faith and works and what of election and free-choice? and what of this, that, and the other? Poor girl, she was tossed sorely to and fro, in a very whirlpool of misery. And she ended by pushing the book aside, and flinging herself on her knees, with her face pressed down on her folded arms, and short sobs breaking through the words which strove for utter ance : 66 Oh, if I only knew what to do, and what to believe! If I only had some one to tell me clearly what is truth! Mothermother-surely you cannot have been utterly mistaken. Such loving trust as yours was-and I used to think I had a little of the same, but it is all gone now. Is uncle Chetwynd really wiser than you were? He is clever and kind, and he has studied his Bible too. It is not as if he had never learnt what I have. I don't know what to do, or whom to believe. Oh, mother, it is such a dark, dark sky over me, and it seems as if heaven and everything were gone. O God, save me. O God, please teach me. 'Thou wilt show me the path of life.' It is in Thy Word, and Thou hast promised-promised-and Thou canst not break Thy word. Lead me forth to the light, and let me behold Thy righteousness. O send out Thy light and Thy truth-let them lead me, let them bring me unto Thy holy hill, and to Thy tabernacles.'" She found herself instinctively falling into Bible expressions, and the very sound of the familiar words from her own lips seemed to bring a shade of comfort. "O God, for the sake of Thy dear Son, leave me not to perish. In Thy faithfulness answer me, and in Thy righteousness.. I stretch forth my hands unto Thee ; my soul thirsteth after Thee, as a thirsty land. Quicken me, O Lord, for Thy Name's sake; for Thy righteousness sake bring my soul out of trouble.' "Ŏ Lord, I have gone astray-utterly astray-like a lost * From Madge Hardwicke; or, The Mists of the Valley. SHAW'S HOME SERIES (6d.). A story of deep interest: and, as our extract indicates, clear and direct Gospel teaching. DECEMBER 23, 1886. WORD AND WORK. sheep. I can't get back. I am helpless-hopeless-all in the dark. 'Seek Thy servant, for I do not forget Thy commandments.' O hear me, for my Saviour's sake, and have mercy, have mercy upon me." And then, after those low broken cries for help, she knelt on silently-neither struggling nor praying, surrounded still with darkness, and unable yet to trust. But down below one little gleam of comfort had reached her. For, in spite of all her questionings, the power to pray had not forsaken her; and not all her doubtings could entirely do away with the consciousness that One above, of infinite power and boundless love, had listened to her cry * * Mona looking at the child' face, and suddenly raising her eyes, said "I think you and Nannie are very happy, Madge." "We ought to be," said Madge. "Yes-no. Oh, I don't know," said Mona, with a deep sigh, resting her cheek on her hand. "I suppose nothing in the world makes one so happy as faith. And yet-if "If what, Miss Mona ?" asked Madge, marvelling at the girl's quivering lips. "If there should not be truth in it all?" said Mona passionately. "How do we know? How can anything be proved? Madge, don't tell anybody what I am saying to you: But do you ever have doubts-or is your faith always the same?" "Doubts of my Lord's love?" asked Madge, with some wonder in her tone. "Not that in particular. Of everything-of God-heaven -religion-everything, Madge ?" "I know what they are," said Madge serenely. "And what do you do when they come ?" "Take 'em straight to my Lord, and ask Him to settle 'em for me." Mona looked up earnestly without speaking. "And, "You see it's Satan's work-all that," said Madge. when he's too strong for me, I just call on my Captain to deal with him, Miss Mona, and to keep me safe behind His shield." "And He does?" said Mona mechanically. "Try Him, Miss Mona,-that's all." "But, Madge-you don't understand," said Mona, sitting up with a little start, as if waking from a momentary feeling That would do for of repose. "You don't understand me. some doubts, but not for all. That is prayer, and what ifif-oh, Madge, I'll tell you the truth-what if I can't understand or believe in the power of prayer?" Bible don't say whether He has or hasn't, and I durstn't be "But God does know everything beforehand," murmured Mona, half to herself. "Sure enough He does, and it's little chance our prayers would have of being answered if He didn't. Haven't I often asked a thing, and it's come quick after?-but matters must have been working up for it weeks afore, and I didn't know that, only the Master knew, and was keeping His promise, 'Before you call, I will answer." Madge was silent a minute, looking pityingly at the troubled face before her. "Knows all beforehand! Of course He do, Miss Mona. He knew beforehand you were going to pray, and He arranged beforehand to answer you; or He knew beforehand you wasn't going to pray, and He didn't arrange beforehand to answer you. Knew it from all eternity, and maybe arranged it from all eternity too, only the Bible don't say It wouldn't make no difference that, so we can't be sure. as to the truth of the power of prayer-not one bit. But No fear but Notes for Bible Reading. How to obey and receive the Spirit of God. commanded E "Understanding's one thing, and believing's another," "If you don't know the power of prayer, Wareing born of the Spirit said Madge. you'd best just try it, Miss Mona, if you'll let me tell you 80." "I've tried it-often-and I used to believe in it. But, Madge, now look here," Mona went on, clasping her hands feverishly-"I want to know how prayer can be answered. For don't you suppose that God knows beforehand all my future life, and everything that will happen to me?" Madge "And if my life is all lying nodded in undoubting assent. make any differmapped out before me, how can my prayers ence? How can they, Madge?" 6 "Does the Bible say it's all mapped out, Miss Mona?" "I don't know-no, not exactly. But then it must be." must be' apart from the Bible, if I "I'd never set up a was you, Miss Mona," said Madge. "It says one thing, and that is, that the Lord 'directeth man's steps.' Well for us But I can't remember reading ever a word that He does too. about our life being all mapped out by God, and nothing ever to change it. I do read how over and over again the Lord was going to send awful judgments on them poor sinning Israelites, till Moses, His chosen, stood between, and turned Where'd have been the good of Moses away His anger. praying as he did, if it wasn't to gain anything?" "That is it, Madge. I doi But "That is just it," said Mona. pray, and I do try to believe I shall have an answer. all the while I can't help feeling that God has arranged everything from all eternity, and that my prayers can make no difference." "They're Satan's whisperings, Miss Mona," said Madge Hardwicke, with deeper earnestness than she had yet displayed. "Arranged everything! I don't say it isn't so. The 2. Walk in the Spirit 5. Keep the unity of 7. Bring forth fruit of 3. Unity 4. Obedience 5. Temple (body) undefiled W John iii. 5. The Holy Spirit's Work. ITH sinners- 2. Reproves 1. Gives assurance Rom. viii. 16. John xiv. 26. Eph. iii. 16. 2 Thes. ii. 13. Hidden Treasures." A Sermon to Children, from a West End Pulpit. FROM A CHILD HEARER'S NOTES. "IF thou seekest her as silver, and searchest for her as for hid treasures; then shalt thou understand the fear of the Lord, and find the knowledge of God" (Prov. ii. 4, 5). There is an old Arabian fable that may enable us to understand these verses. On a high mountain a treasure had been placed, which any one who climbed to the summit might carry away. 66 Many people attempted to gain possession of this treasure, but perished in the attempt, for, turning back, they were turned into stones. In a small cottage, near the foot of the mountain, lived a family--two brothers and a sister. Unable to procure food, they at length determined upon climbing the mountain and taking possession of the treasure. For," they said, we may be successful, and, even though we are turned into stones in the attempt, it will be better than remaining here to die." The eldest started immediately, determined not to listen to the voices that had caused the destruction of so many. Voices on all sides aried, "Turn back, turn back! It is death to go farther. Alas! alas!" Then followed peals of mocking laughter. Heedless of all, he pursued his way, until a voice from behind cried, "Coward, you are afraid to look back!" At this, forgetful of his resolutions, he turned indignantly, and in a moment became a stone. The second brother next started, but, before he had climbed halfway up the mountain, a sweet, soft voice cried, "Come back, come back, and rest awhile with me," and, he obeying, met with the same fate as his brother. Their sister, finding that they did not return, followed them. Stopping her ears, she heard not, and heeded not, the voices all around, and in safety reached the top and carried off the treasure. Many of us set out boldly on our way, and, for a time, pursue it bravely, but the voice of Satan calls us "Coward," or cries, "Come back and rest awhile," and we too gladly obey. Alas! how few of us, unheeding the voices of those around us, keep on unfalteringly till we reach our journey's end! Christ invites us to seek the treasure, assuring us of its reality and worth. There are a hundred voices in the air tempting us to draw back. The world offers us present joys and more tangible treasures, and we are asked to forego fatigue and enter upon present possessions. If we are wise we will resolutely refuse to listen, either to the world, or the flesh, or the devil, and, forgetting the things behind, reach forth unto those that are before, striving for the prize of the high calling of God in Jesus Christ. ONE Two Purses. NE for the Lord and one for myself. Let every one provide two purses, or boxes, or banks, made of no matter what, and no matter where. Only be sure to have two places for money, one of which shall be consecrated to the Lord, and the other for personal and business purposes. A young man once started out from home to "seek his fortune," with eighteen dollars tied up in an old stocking leg. It made a good purse, and from that beginning he made a handsome fortune, always being noted for his benevolence and Christian gifts. Anything for a purse, only be sure and have two. A young lady said to her father, "I would like to put something into the box as it passes around on the Sabbath." Her father willingly gave her part of his donation, and thus she added the influence of her example to the custom, but nothing to the increase of the collection. This did not satisfy her, for she felt more and more that she wanted to give something of her own. She had positively of her own only about six or eight dollars yearly of interest money on a small invested capital. This she had been accustomed to use for Christmas and birthday gifts among her friends. She resolved to have two purses, and put into one for the Lord at least one-tenth of her income. Although it made but a small sum, she had more satisfaction in giving than ever before. But the delightful part came when from one cause and another, wholly unexpected, she received the next year a far greater sum for her own disposal than she had ever had before, and a good portion of it went into the Lord's purse. "I never think of touching what is in the Lord's purse for any but religious purposes," said she, "and never borrow from it for my own use. It is sacred to the Lord. It is in His purse, and I never enjoyed my money before as I do now. Another young lady who was listening said, "I also keep two purses and conscientiously put one-tenth of all I receive into the Lord's purse. It is not much, but I am glad to do it, and in consequence always have a little money ready for every good cause." Ah, it is a good way it is a right way. If you have not tried it, begin now and learn its blessedness by your own ex. perience. So Happy in her Little Room. "Godliness with contentment is great gain." (I Tim. vi. 6.) A LIVING and very striking illustration of this was recently brought before the writer in the case of an aged and very poor Christian woman in her eightieth year. Having been commissioned to call upon her with the offer of a rent-free room, what was the writer's surprise to find that she was not disposed to avail herself of the offered boon, the reason given being that she was so happy there in her Saviour in that little room that she did not wish to leave it. Her total income, contributed by friends, amounted to four shillings per week, and a shilling ticket weekly, made it five shillings. Out of this she paid two shillings and sixpence rent, and she remarked that she owed no man anything. Although crippled with rheumatism, she made no allusion to her ailments, but dwelt upon the goodness of God to her, who, she said, had never suffered her to lack bread; indeed she was overflowing in His praises, saying that it was impossible for her to express all that the Lord had been to her. She reached a card from the mantelshelf with a hymn entitled, "Lonely, oh, no, not lonely," which she asked to have read to her, the tears filling her eyes as the lines, expressive no doubt of her own experience, were read. The good woman then pulled out a box containing eleven little stuff frocks, which she exhibited one by one, all her own handiwork, the twelfth being in course of making; also a cape, intended as her Christmas gift to the poor children of a ragged school. She said that she liked occupation; ladies brought her the material and she made it up, having been a dressmaker in her time. On her scanty fire (if a few sparks can be so termed) was a saucepan, the lid of which she raised and showed its contents, & stew which had been sent her by some kind neighbour. From her bookshelf she took down a copy of Smith's Daily Remembrancer, with a marker in it at the text for the day; her name and that of the city missionary who had presented it to her being inscribed on the fly-leaf-a name with which the writer is familiar. She remarked, "Everybody is kind to me!" Upon being asked if the message to be delivered to her wouldbe benefactors was that she is so happy in her little room, that she does not wish to leave it? she replied, "Yes." Then a few parting words and the writer left, having received a lesson in practical Godliness not easily to be forgotten, deeply humbling to self, but highly glorifying to God. May this simple record of faith be blessed and owned of God, to the furtherance of like simple faith, and to His name shall be the praise. J. H. Hungry Men at Millwall.-The condition of large masses of the working classes may easily be told at the present moment by spending a morning at the gates of the Millwall Docks. Men that passed us with a smiling nod a few months ago now stop us with an importunate appeal for a spare dinner ticket, and our private door is besieged all day long with the same beseeching tale. We have begun this week by giving four hundred half-starving men a good meal of bread and meat or soup at our Millwall Mission Hall, supplementing the same with pointed Gospel addresses, and giving away some hundreds of large type Testaments, given us by the trustees under the will of the late Mr. T. B. Smithies. The attention, responses, and anxious faces everywhere seen under the loving counsel of the evangelist were indeed gladdening, and the opportunity of so ministering to a class of men as are not usually found under any direct Christian teaching must prove a source of thanksgiving, even coming as it does as a consequence of so much suffering. We shall happily continue and increase the number thus temporally and spiritually benefited as funds come in for the purpose. WM. CHORLEY, Supt. N.E. Gospel Missions. 2, Marquess Grove, Canonbury, N. DECEMBER 23, 1886. WORD AND WORK. The Children's Column. The Haunted Room. BY CATHARINE SHAW, author of Dickie's Attic, Dickie's "You will be disappointed if you expect too much," said Agnes, holding the door in her hand and looking into five eager faces congregated on the landing. "Let us in, then, and we'll tell you!" answered Hugh, a tall boy of about fifteen. "You are as bad as the 'penny-aliners,' who pile up the interest to the end of the chapter, and then leave you in the lurch!" Agnes laughed a little at that, as she threw open the door of the chamber in their uncle's old house, which, for many a day, had had the repute of being haunted. She and her two sisters, with her brothers John and Hugh, had come to spend a fortnight of their Christmas holidays in this old-fashioned abode, where every corner seemed to have a history, if not a mystery; and Agnes Headley, ever on the look-out to do a little work for her Heavenly Master, found that she could carry out in her present weird surroundings, a thought she had long had in her mind. "Come here, Florence," she said, holding out her hand to a little cousin, who, like themselves, had come for a visit; "if you are at all nervous, we will get the lamp only Florence disdained to acknowledge herself nervous, and was sure she should not be frightened; so, taking her cousin Minnie's little soft hand, she entered the moonlit room with the rest, wondering what Agnes would have to show them so very particular. "Though this is uncle's haunted room, I must explain to you that we have nothing to do with it for that reason; but, as what I have to show you is kept here, I thought we could not have a better place in which to have our little talk." "But we can't see anything," said Minnie, squeezing Florence's hand very hard. "I wish you would strike a match, Agnes." "All in good time, Minnie. Here, John, light the lantern, and let us see what there is to be seen." John, the eldest brother, though not in the secret, knew from experience that Agnes generally had something pleasant in her little preparations, and took the lantern from her hand to do as she desired. When its fitful gleams shone out in the haunted chamber, the young people looked round curiously, not without a certain creepiness in their hair and a shiver down their backs. The room was not very large, but was gloomy and dark; the corners were unlighted, and the moonlight shining along the floor was almost brighter than the rays of the shaded light in John's hand. At one end some garments hung against the wall, and, as their eyes grew accustomed to the shadows, they could see dimly the shapes of old-fashioned armour, swords, and spears, arranged in set patterns, against the oak panelling. In one corner a knight, with a coat of mail, stood up gaunt and still, his visor down, his hand clasping his sword, his foot advanced, as if ready to step forward to the fight. "I don't like it much, Agnes," whispered Minnie, clinging to her side. "I wish you would not make it so dark." "There is nothing in the world to be afraid of," said her sister, "and, if you will come here between me and Alice, you will feel all right, shall you not? But, if you are afraid, I will take you downstairs again, only I did want you to hear about it, too, Minnie." The little girl was reassured by the loving arms wrapped round her, and by the warm kisses pressed on her flushed cheeks. "That knight in armour, who looks so terrible there," explained Agnes, "is not a real man, though he has on real armour, which was used in real warfare, long ago; so, before I tell you my story, Minnie and Florence shall have a good look at him to make sure that it is only a wooden man, and not a hero of bygone ages come to life again." Florence laughed a little nervously as she advanced to where John's light shone brightly, but she was sufficiently courageous to touch the steel-clad foot with her hand, and to But no eyes looked out from the dark cavity, and no "It's all right, Minnie; you needn't be one bit afraid-he's not real." "Now for the story!" said Hugh, who had been impatient all this time, if not to get it over, at any rate to find out what it was. "Come, then," answered Agnes, turning towards the window and pointing to an old-fashioned settle covered with "Sit down here, opposite to the old knight, a warm rug. and I will tell you what I have been thinking about." They quickly obeyed, and now Minnie could feel her two sisters on either side of her, and could gaze up at the familiar face of the clear moon, she began to feel enough at home to enjoy herself. "You remember," began Agnes, "that when Uncle Hugh came home from India he bought this old house, furniture, pictures, and all, with that money which had been unexpectedly left him?" "Yes-yes," broke from several lips. "The first day after we came he called me into his library, and said that he intended to make me a present of one of the old curiosities it contained, and wished me to say what I would like best, reserving to himself the right of altering my choice should it fall upon something he could not part with. "I was greatly at a loss, as you may suppose; but ever since I had seen those knights standing in the hall downstairs, I had had an idea which, if he were willing, I could now carry out; so I told him, if it were not too much to ask, to make me a present of one of his armed knights! "You may guess that he had a good laugh at my request, but all the same he granted it." Hugh and John felt as if they would have been very delighted to have had the chance themselves of such a gift, but before they could say anything beyond a low exclamation of surprise, Agnes went on— "I asked him if he would be hurt if I did just as I liked with my knight; but very soon I found I had to take him into my confidence: so he knows all about it, and "Well?" asked Alice. approves." "My thought was this, as I stood and looked that first morning on those motionless figures, dressed in armour, that had been used, now only shadows, as it were, of what once had been-that each one of us living and breathing, and enjoying life had a set of armour which we ought to put on, but which often lay hidden away, rusty and useless, because we disregarded the message our great Captain had sent us-sent to each one who loves and serves Him-'Wherefore take unto you the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and, having done all, to stand."" Oh, I see now!" said John. "You do not see all," answered Agnes, gently. "That old knight in the corner is not my knight, for I have pulled mine to pieces." "Have you?" asked Hugh, regretfully. "Yes," said Agnes; "here is his armour, hanging up against the wall. I asked Uncle if I might divide his armour between us six, and he willingly gave me leave. Now, what I want to know is this-which of us is willing, earnestly and faithfully, to take his or her share of this invisible armour, and begin this very day to clasp on one piece at any rate, that so we may make the first step towards taking unto us the whole armour of God.'" "But, Agnes," objected John, "many of us-all, I hopehave taken the great step of enlisting under the Captain; you do not mean that?" 66 we are all soldiers; "Oh no," answered Agnes quickly, but we fail to put on the armour God has appointed, in order that we may be able to stand! We walk along satisfied in our own strength, far too often." "Oh, that's all right," answered John earnestly. "I was only afraid lest for the sake of an illustration, and a very nice idea, Agnes, any one might forget for a moment that, we can be soldiers, we must be redeemed by precious ere "But this is not intangible," said John, hesitating. Only that something tangible may remind us"For my own, or lent to me?" he asked. "For your own. Now, Hugh, you may choose, there are five more things." "What will you have, Agnes?" "The one that is left; Hugh, choose!" "I'll have the breastplate of righteousness, then; for I suppose you mean to take the Scripture list ?” "You have guessed quite right. Alice, what for you?" "I'll have the truth one." "That's the coat of mail, 'loins girt about with truth.' Florence, what would you like?" "I don't remember the meanings exactly," answered Florence shyly, "but I like the helmet. What is it, Agnes?" "The hope of salvation,' joy now and always; do you like that, Florence?" A very soft little "That will do for me!" came up from a very faithful little heart. "Now, Minnie?" "Might I have the shield? But there'll be nothing nice left for you, Aggie!" "The very thing is left for her that is most suitable!" exclaimed Alice, warmly. "Her 'feet shod with the preparation of the Gospel of peace.' Agnes is a thorough peacemaker, and she loves to tell people about the Gospel of peace, too" "So I do; but not half as I ought," answered Agnes, lifting down the pieces of armour and handing each to the various possessors. "They will serve as reminders, 'with a vengeance,'" said Hugh; "where shall we put them?" "I mean to hang mine up at home over my mantelshelf," said Agnes; "it will be quite an ornament, and if 66 Yes," " said John, taking up the word. "If we think of them, and by and by take unto us the whole armour of God" "Agnes' kindness and thought for us will not be in vain," added Alice, kissing her warmly. "To-morrow," said Agnes, we will have some more talk about our different pieces of armour, for it will be easier to us to use what God has provided, if we can understand the sorts of weapons which will be used against us." "Oh! tell us now, Aggie," exclaimed her little sister. "Not to-night; let us go downstairs now, and try to make the evening bright to uncle Hugh." The young people carried their armour to their respective rooms, placing it in full view on chests of drawers, bureaus, &c., each touched with Agnes' unselfishness, which had caused her, in that house full of treasures, to choose something which she meant to receive but to give away. When they reached the drawing-room their uncle met them at the door, with an unusually bright look on his face. Agnes," he said, leading her up to an easel, which stood under the chandelier in the middle of the room, I have looked out another little treasure for you, in remembrance of your knight! I felt, after what we talked about yesterday, that it ought to belong to no one else." When Agnes reached the easel, what was her surprise to see a beautiful oil painting of a soldier kneeling before his sovereign, receiving from his hands the victor's laurels and rewards! His face, patient with many a hardship, holy with many a self-denial, earnest with many a purpose, radiant with many a victory, his face touched the hearts of the lookers on, all fresh from Agnes' earnest words, and a silent sort of awe fell upon them, as they thought of what they had undertaken, and of what the end would be. Their uncle's voice, gentle and solemn, broke the pause"I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me at that day." "I cannot attempt to thank you," said Agnes in a low voice, putting her hand in her uncle's, "but "Don't try to, my dear. Rather would I thank you for having turned my haunted chamber into an armoury of light!" That night as Hugh, the last of the party, crossed the hall on his way to bed, he paused by the marble pillars and looked round. The moon had left the windows of the haunted chamber, and had come round to the front, where it streamed along the pavement, touching the feet of the gaunt knights, and casting fairy shadows from the ferns and palms between which they stood. "The whole armour of God,'" he murmured softly, "I wonder how long I shall be before I have strength to buckle it all on? But I'm glad there are those words: 'I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me!'" (To be continued in our New Year's Number.) -- Christmas Hymn. THOU! who once on earth was born, When wilt Thou come again? Come to Thy world, astray and sad, That groans with want and pain; Come, make its desert places glad ! Lord Jesus, come again! Come to Thy Church, whose weeds of woe Thy face before Thine altar show, Our Master, come again! Come to the few who seek their Lord, What gifts of good, what songs of cheer, To death and shame and pain, ROSE TERRY COOKE In His Word He has said, "The soul that sinneth, it shall die (Ezek. xviii. 4); "The wages of sin is death" (Rom. vi. 23) How, then, can any one be saved? for "all have sinned" and all deserve to die the death that never dies. The Scripture has declared, "Without the shedding of blood is no remission" (Heb. ix. 22). Must all eternally perish? Is there no possibility of escape? A voice is heard from the throne of God: "Deliver from going down to the pit" (Job xxxiii. 24). Justice asks, “O what ground?" I have found a ransom." What was the ransom provided by Jehovah for the redemption of sinners? "Jesus gave Himself a ransom for all" (1 Tim. ii. 6). The ransom price has been paid and accepted, justice is satisfied not with what you have done, but with what Christ has dont for you. |