"Thou shalt win glory." "In the skies, Lord Jesus, cover up mine eyes. Lest they should look on vanities." "Thou shalt have knowledge." "Helpless dust, In thee, O Lord, I put my trust: Answer thou for me, Wise and Just." CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI. * * * * * SAID I NOT SO? Said I not so,--that I would sin no more? Witness, my God, I did; Yet I am run again upon the score: My faults cannot be hid. What shall I do?--make vows and break them still? 'Twill be but labor lost; My good cannot prevail against mine ill: The business will be crost. O, say not so; thou canst not tell what strength Thy God may give thee at the length. Renew thy vows, and if thou keep the last, Thy God will pardon all that's past. Vow while thou canst; while thou canst vow, thou may'st Perhaps perform it when thou thinkest least. Thy God hath not denied thee all, Whilst he permits thee but to call. Call to thy God for grace to keep Thy vows; and if thou break them, weep. Weep for thy broken vows, and vow again: Vows made with tears cannot be still in vain. Then once again I vow to mend my ways; Lord, say Amen, And thine be all the praise. GEORGE HERBERT. * * * * * NOTHING BUT LEAVES. Nothing but leaves; the spirit grieves Over a wasted life; Sin committed while conscience slept, Promises made, but never kept, Hatred, battle, and strife; _Nothing but leaves_! Nothing but leaves; no garnered sheaves Of life's fair, ripened grain; Words, idle words, for earnest deeds; We sow our seeds,--lo! tares and weeds: We reap, with toil and pain, _Nothing but leaves_! Nothing but leaves; memory weaves No veil to screen the past: As we retrace our weary way, Counting each lost and misspent day, We find, sadly, at last, _Nothing but leaves_! And shall we meet the Master so, Bearing our withered leaves? The Saviour looks for perfect fruit, We stand before him, humbled, mute; Waiting the words he breathes,-- "_Nothing but leaves_?" LUCY E. AKERMAN. * * * * * THE WORLD. "And when he is come, he will reprove the world of sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment."--JOHN xvi. 8. The world is wise, for the world is old; Five thousand years their tale have told; Yet the world is not happy, as the world might be,-- Why is it? why is it? Oh, answer me! The world is kind if we ask not too much; It is sweet to the taste, and smooth to the touch; Yet the world is not happy, as the world might be,-- Why is it? why is it? Oh, answer me! The world is strong, with an awful strength, And full of life in its breadth and length; Yet the world is not happy, as the world might be,-- Why is it? why is it? Oh, answer me!