Though every good man is not so logically subtile as to be able by fit mediums to demonstrate his own immortality, yet he sees it in a higher light: his soul, being purged and enlightened by true sanctity, is more capable of those divine irradiations, whereby it feels itself in conjunction with God. It knows that God will never forsake His own life which He hath quickened in it; He will never deny those ardent desires of a blissful fruition of Himself, which the lively sense of His own goodness hath excited within it: those breathings and gaspings after an eternal participation of Him are but the energy of His own breath within us; if He had had any mind to destroy it, He would never have shown it such things as He hath done. DR. JOHN SMITH. March 5 _And every man that hath this hope in him purifieth himself, even as He is pure_.--I JOHN iii. 3. Now, Lord, what wait I for? On Thee alone My hope is all rested,-- Lord, seal me Thine own! Only Thine own to be, Only to live to Thee. Thine, with each day begun, Thine, with each set of sun, Thine, till my work is done. ANNA WARNER. Now, believe me, God hides some ideal in every human soul. At some time in our life we feel a trembling, fearful longing to do some good thing. Life finds its noblest spring of excellence in this hidden impulse to do our best. There is a time when we are not content to be such merchants or doctors or lawyers as we see on the dead level or below it. The woman longs to glorify her womanhood as sister, wife, or mother. Here is God,--God standing silently at the door all day long,--God whispering to the soul, that to be pure and true is to succeed in life, and whatever we get short of that will burn up like stubble, though the whole world try to save it. ROBERT COLLYER. March 6 _The shadow of a great rock in a weary land_.--ISA. xxxii. 2. _In returning and rest shall ye be saved; in quietness and in confidence shall be your strength_.--ISA. xxx. 15. O Shadow in a sultry land! We gather to Thy breast, Whose love, enfolding like the night, Brings quietude and rest, Glimpse of the fairer life to be, In foretaste here possessed. C. M. PACKARD.