"But some of us may have planned out certain paths for our own feet, that lead alluringly to ease and approbation. Think! God may call us into obscure bypaths, into ways that lead to no earthly recompense, to lowly service and unrequited toil. Can we still sing it? Let us wait. Let us consider and be very sure." In the prayerful silence, David thought of his profession and the hopes of the great success that it was his ambition to attain. Could he give it up, and spend his life in an unappreciated ministry to his people? He wavered. But just then he had a vision of the Christ. He seemed to see a footsore, tired man, holding out his hands in blessing to the motley crowds that thronged him; and again he saw the same patient form stumbling wearily along under a heavy beam of wood, scourged, mocked, spit upon, nailed to the cross, for--him! David shuddered, and he took up the refrain: "I'll go with Him, with Him, all the way." "It may be that, so far as ambition and personal plans are concerned, we are willing to put ourselves entirely in God's hands; but suppose he should call for our hearts' best beloved, are we willing to make of this hour a Mount Moriah, on which we sacrifice our Isaacs--our all? Do we consecrate ourselves entirely? Will we go with him all the way, no matter through what dark Gethsemane he may see best to lead us?" Again David wavered as Esther's beautiful face came before him. "O God! anything but that!" he cried out passionately. Cragmore felt him trembling, and, reaching out, clasped his hand, and prayed silently that strength might be given him to make the consecration complete. "I'll go with Him, with Him, all the way!" David's voice sung it unfalteringly. When they arose the tears were streaming down his cheeks, but a great light was in his face, and a great peace in his heart. The Christ had been revealed to him. A new life and a new year had been born together. * * * * * No, the story is not done, but the rest of it can not be written until it has first been lived. In God's good time the shuttles of his purposes shall weave these life-webs to the finish. Some threads may cross and twine, some be widely parted, and some be snapped asunder. Who can tell? The new year has only begun. But we know that all things work together for good to those who give themselves into the eternal keeping, and--"God's in his heaven." SILENT KEYS. ONCE, in a shadowy old cathedral, a young girl sat at the great organ, playing over and over a simple melody for a group of children to sing. They were rehearsing the parts they were to take in the Christmas choruses. It was not long before every voice had caught the sweet old tune of "Joy to the World," and as their little feet pattered down the solemn aisles, the song was carried with them to the work and play of the streets outside. As the girl turned to follow, she found the old white-haired organist, a master-musician, standing beside her.