V ritten for the Courikr. "O, thc time for sowin'seed ís wearin' wearín' dune, An' thc time for winnin' souls wlll be ower verra su ne. Lfc I'hen let u a' be activ' f a fruitful sheaf wc'd bringf To dorn the rojal table in the palace o' the King." -Scotch Melody. Come, read me sorae rare oíd poem, Tuneful, and tender, and sweet, l.it your hourt touch the heart of the poet, TUI yon feel lts pulses beat. M:ike lt sweet wlth the breath of the flowers, That bloom in the earllest spring; In umi out, through the Unes of the bailad, Let the wlld-blrds flutter and slng. Let lt teil of a soul thiit has battled Wlth sln, and sorrow, and pain, TUI he reaches the golden hllltops, Above the clouds and the rain. No matter how far from the Father Lle the weatisome ways he hns trod, Let him stand forth at last in the sunllght, Kedeemeil by the race of God. And then make your He, O, try, brother, Llke an anthem of vlctory, Write it out 1 d'atliles muMi' Tlmt Is long in Eternlty. C'ling close to the " Rock of Ages.' With thestrong right umi of your ftiilli, W'lilli' you lift f rom the seetliing billows Kellow men who are batlllng wlth death. And so may the fragrance of lalor. And love for humanity rise, Krom your Ufe unto God, llke InWBM On the evenlng sacrlflce.