Thou hast been absent many months, and it is sweet to

speak

Of the dear Saviour we both love-the home we now both seek.

Thou knowest, Edith, how the years of my young life

flew on,

How in the present hour I lived, nor mourned for pleasures gone,

Because the future seemed as bright as yonder wave

less sea

Reflecting back each mountain brow, and distant tower, and tree.

And yet I often thought of death without a doubt or fear,

I had been told that I was safe, that Seraphs would be

near,

That parted from those whom I deemed half angels here below,

"Twould only be to join heaven's host-eternal joys to know.

Yes, I was told that I was safe-that Baptism's solemn rite,

Possessed some high mysterious power to wash the sin-stained white,

Some power inherent in itself to new create the heart, And to the all unconscious babe a new life to impart.

I do believe still, Edith, love, that if with earnest prayer,

The parents yield their treasured child to the Almighty's

care,

And with firm faith His promise plead, oh, then, I do believe,

That babes presented thus to Him, our Father will receive.

But never can baptismal dews' avail to cleanse from sin,

Nought, save the Holy Spirit's power can purify within, That Spirit ever, only given in answer to the prayer Which, trusting in a Saviour's blood, claims in his love a share.

I well remember when the leaves were budding first in spring,

And hope, and joy, and beauty, seemed enrobing every thing,

That I had wandered forth to gaze upon yon lovely

view

And field, and bud, and flowret, lay all wet with morning dew.

At length I turned from earth to look up to the clear blue sky,

The air seemed vocal with the sounds of nature's melody,

And while I listened to the birds tuning their morning lays,

And saw the bright things God had formed for his own worthy praise;

The sad conviction crossed my mind, that I, so richly blessed,

Endued with reason, and with life, by partial friends caressed,

In the Redeemer's name baptized, yet had not sought

his grace,

Had never yet begun to run the Christian's arduous race.

I never rested from that hour till, through a Saviour's blood,

I felt that I was justified and reconciled to God,

I know that I am born again, each thought, each wish seems changed,

No more I wander from my God so wilfully estranged.

And yet I often tremble, lest amid earth's many cares, And the long years which I may spend beset with sins and snares,

I should forgetful of my Lord, and faithless to Him prove

And never see his gladdening smile or reign with Him above.

But, Edith, this is wrong, I know,-I am in Jesus' hands,

My every danger He foreknows, my fears He understands,

I can trust Him for death, oh, why not trust Him then for life,

Soon the long years I dread so much will end in mortal strife :

And I be garnered, Edith, list the reapers' joyous songOh, far more rapturous the joy of heaven's unnumbered throng,

When a redeemed immortal one is added to their band, With them around the Saviour's throne triumphantly to stand.

Only a few sere yellow leaves remained upon the trees, And sad and mournful voices seemed to mingle with the breeze;

The distant sea was crested high with white and sparkling foam,

When once again I trod the path from Gertrude's cottage home.

And where was Gertrude? The last sheaf had scarce been gathered in,

Ere she was safely garnered too beyond the reach of sin, Beyond the reach of storm and blight, beyond the reach

of woe,

Beyond the tyrant power of death, man's last, most dreaded foe.

Yes, she was safely garnered now-I did not, could not weep,

Why should we mourn for them who in a Saviour sleep, I only lifted up my heart in gratitude and love,

To Him who gave her faith and hope-then called her hence above.

Oh, Jesus, Saviour of a lost, and guilty ruined race, The soul that trusts thy righteousness, shares thy renewing grace,

Is blest beyond what heart can think, or mortal tongue can tell,

For whether life or death betide, all, every thing is

well.

J. T.

THE VALLEY OF SHECHEM.

We all know that three of the Evangelists reckoned the hours of the day after the manner of the ancient Jews, Greeks, and Romans; namely, by twelve unequal hours, varying according to the season of the year, from sunrise to sunset; but some distinguish, that St. John reckoned them as, when he wrote, they did in the Proconsular Asia, and as we do now, from midnight to noon. "It was about the sixth hour;" that is, the sixth after noon, the time that women went out to draw water, when Jesus of Nazareth sat beside Jacob's well : he sat alone, for his disciples were gone into the city to buy food.

Weary he seemed and was with his journey, for he is now thirty-four miles north of Jerusalem, from which he is retiring, after the Passover, in the first year of his public ministry, and has begun his first progress from Judea, through Samaria, into Galilee. The Samaritans are not, for the present, within his commission; to them he is not personally sent: yet there was certainly some exception in favour of this part of Samaria; was it for the beauty, or rather for the sanctity of the spot ?

Beautiful it was, and is. As you approach Shechem from Jerusalem, you enter a valley which extends above three miles in the direction north, north-west, but so narrow as in some parts not to exceed two, or