Come, for the corn is ripe,
Put in Thy sickle now,

Reap the great harvest of the earth-
Sower and reaper Thou!

Come, and make all things new,

Build up this ruin'd earth, Restore our faded Paradise, Creation's second birth.

Come, and begin Thy reign

Of everlasting peace,

Come, take the kingdom to Thyself, Great King of Righteousness.

Horatius Bonar.

59. ADVENT, THE SECOND. Prayer for THE Church has waited long

Her absent Lord to see;
And still in loneliness she waits,
A friendless stranger she.
Age after age has gone,

Sun after sun has set,

And still in weeds of widowhood
She weeps a mourner yet.
Come then, Lord Jesus, come!

Saint after saint on earth

Has lived, and loved, and died And as they left us one by one,

We laid them side by side; We laid them down to sleep,

But not in hope forlorn; We laid them but to ripen there, Till the last glorious morn. Come then, Lord Jesus, come!

The serpent's brood increase,
The powers of hell grow bold,
The conflict thickens, faith is low,
And love is waxing cold.
How long, O Lord, our God,

Holy and true and good,

Wilt Thou not judge Thy suffering church,

Her sighs and tears and blood?
Come then, Lord Jesus, come !

We long to hear Thy voice,

To see Thee face to face,

To share Thy crown and glory then,
As now we share Thy grace.

Should not the loving Bride

The absent Bridegroom mourn?

Should she not wear the weeds of grief
Until her Lord return?

Come then, Lord Jesus, come!

The whole creation groans,

And waits to hear that voice That shall restore her comeliness,

And make her wastes rejoice. Come, Lord, and wipe away

The curse, the sin, the stain,

And make this blighted world of ours
Thine own fair world again.
Come then, Lord Jesus, come!

H. Bonar.

60. ADVENT, THE SECOND. Prayer for

How long, O Lord our Saviour,
Wilt Thou remain away?
Our hearts are growing weary
Of Thy so long delay:

Oh! when shall come the moment,

When, brighter far than morn,
The sunshine of Thy glory
Shall on Thy people dawn?

How long, O gracious Master,

Wilt Thou Thy household leave? So long hast Thou now tarried,

Few Thy return believe : Immersed in sloth and folly,

Thy servants, Lord, we see ; And few of them stand ready

With joy to welcome Thee.

How long, O Heavenly Bridegroom,
How long wilt Thou delay?
And yet how few are grieving
That Thou dost absent stay;
Thy very bride her portion

And calling hath forgot,
And seeks for ease and glory,
Where Thou, her Lord, art not.

Oh! wake Thy slumbering virgins;
Send forth the solemn cry,
Let all Thy saints repeat it,

'The Bridegroom draweth nigh!'
May all our lamps be burning,
Our loins all girded be,
Each longing heart preparing
With joy Thy face to see!

61. ADVENT, THE SECOND. Waiting for

THE Advent morn shines cold and clear,
These Advent nights are long ;
Our lamps have burn'd year after year,
And still their flame is strong.

Watchman, what of the night? we cry,

Heartsick with hope deferr'd: No speaking signs are in the sky, Is still the watchman's word.

The porter watches at the gate,

The servants watch within;
The watch is long betimes, and late,
The prize is slow to win :
Watchman, what of the night? But still
His answer sounds the same, -

No day-break tops the utmost hill,
Nor pale our lamps of flame.

One to another, hear them speak,
The patient virgins wise,—
Surely He is not far to seek,

All night we watch and rise;
The days are evil looking back,

The coming days are dim;
Yet count we not His promise slack,
But watch and wait for Him.

One with another, soul with soul,

They kindle fire from fire; Friends watch us who have touch'd the goal;

They urge us, Come up higher!

With them shall rest our way-sore feet,
With them is built our home,

With Christ,-they sweet, but He most sweet,
Sweeter than honeycomb.

There no more parting, no more pain;

The distant ones brought near; The lost so long are found again,—

Long lost, but longer dear:

Eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard,
Nor heart conceived, that rest;
With them, our good things long deferr'd;
With Jesus Christ, our best.

We weep, because the night is long;
We laugh, for day shall rise;
We sing a slow contented song,
And knock at Paradise :
Weeping, we hold Him fast, who wept

For us; we hold Him fast,
And will not let Him go except

He bless us first or last.

Weeping, we hold Him fast to-night;
We will not let Him go,

Till day-break smite our wearied sight,
And summer smite the snow.

Then figs shall bud, and dove with dove
Shall coo the livelong day;
Then He shall say, Arise, my love!

My fair one, come away!

Christina G. Rossetti.

62. ADVENT, THE SECOND. Waiting for WHAT of the night, watchman, what of the night? The wintry gale sweeps by,

The thick shadows fall, and the night-bird's call

Sounds mournfully through the sky.

The night is dark, it is long and drear,

But who, while others sleep,

Is that little band, who together stand,
And their patient vigils keep?

All awake is the strained eye,

And awake the listening ear:

For their Lord they wait, and watch at the gate
His chariot-wheels to hear.

Long have they waited-that little band,

And ever and anon

To fancy's eye the dawn seem'd nigh,—
The night seem'd almost gone.

And often, through the midnight gale,

They thought they heard at last

The sound of His train, and they listen'd again,— And the sound died away on the blast.

Ages have roll'd, and one by one

Those watchers have pass'd away;
They heard the call on their glad ear fall,
And they hasten'd to obey.

And in their place their children stand,
And still their vigils keep,

They watch and pray for the dawn of day,

For this is no time for sleep.

What of the night, watchman, what of the night?
Though the wintry gales sweep by,

When the darkest hour begins to lower
We know that the dawn is nigh.

Courage, ye servants of the Lord,

The night is almost o'er ;

Your Master will come and call you home,

To weep and to watch no more.

63. ADVENT, THE SECOND. Waiting for

'IT may be in the evening,

When the work of the day is done,
And you have time to sit in the twilight,
And watch the sinking sun,

While the long, bright day dies slowly
Over the sea,

And the hour grows quiet and holy,
With thoughts of Me;
While you hear the little children

Passing along the street,
Among those thronging footsteps

May come the sound of My feet.

Therefore I tell you, watch

By the light of the evening star,
When the room is growing dusky
As the clouds afar

Let the door be on the latch
In your home,

For it may be through the gloaming
I will come !

'It may be when the midnight

Is heavy upon the land,

And the black waves lying dumbly

Along the sand;

When the moonless night draws close, And the lights are out in the house, When the fires burn low and red, And the watch is ticking loudly

Beside the bed :

Though you sleep, tired out, on your couch,
Still your heart must wake, and watch
In the dark room,

For it may be that at midnight
I will come !

'It may be at the cock-crow, When the night is dying slowly In the sky,

And the sea looks calm and holy,'

Waiting for the dawn

Of the golden sun,

Which draweth nigh;

When the mists are on the valleys, shading

The rivers chill,

And my morning star is fading, fading

Over the hill:

Behold, I say unto you, watch! Let the door be on the latch

In your home;

In the chill before the dawning,
Between the night and morning,
I may come !

'It may be in the morning,

When the sun is bright and strong, And the dew is glittering sharply

Over the sweet, green lawn; When the waves are laughing loudly

Along the shore,

And gay birds are singing sweetly
About the door;

With the long day's work before you,

You rise up with the sun,

And your dear ones come to talk a little Of all that must be done,

But remember, I may be the next

To come in at the door,

To call you from all your busy work For evermore!

As you work, your heart must watch, For the door is on the latch

In your room,

And it may be in the morning I will come !'

So I am watching, quietly,
Every day!

Whenever the sun shines brightly,
I rise and say,

Surely it is the shining of His face!

And look unto the gates of His high place Beyond the sea;

For I know He is coming shortly

To summon me.

And when a shadow falls across the window

Of my room,

Where I am working my appointed task,

I lift my head to watch the door, and ask,
If He is come;

And an angel answers sweetly
In my home,

'Only a few more shadows,

And He will come!'

64. ADVERSITY. Aggravation of

Of all the horrid, hideous notes of woe,
Sadder than owl-songs on the midnight blast,
Is that portentous phrase, 'I told you so,'

Utter'd by friends, those prophets of the past, Who, 'stead of saying what you now should do, Own they foresaw that you would fall at last, And solace your slight lapse 'gainst 'bonos mores,' With a long memorandum of old stories.-Byron.

65. ADVERSITY. Application of

I ASK

What He would have this evil do for me?
What is its mission? What its misery?
What golden fruit lies hidden in its husk?
How shall it nurse my virtue, nerve my will,
Chasten my passions, purify my love,
And make me in some goodly sense like Him
Who bore the cross of evil while He lived,
Who hung and bled upon it when He died,
And now in glory wears the victor's crown.
J. G. Holland.

66. ADVERSITY: awakens Pity.

WHEN a great mind falls, The nobler nature of man's gen'rous heart

Doth bear him up against the shame of ruin,
With gentle censure, using but his faults
As modest means to introduce his praise;
For pity, like a dewy twilight, comes
To close th' oppressive splendour of his day,
And they who but admired him in his height,
His alter'd state lament, and love him fall'n.
Joanna Baillie.

67. ADVERSITY. Benefit of
'MID pleasure, plenty, and success,
Freely we take from Him who lends :
We boast the blessing we possess,

Yet scarcely thank the One who sends.
But let affliction pour its smart,

How soon we quail beneath the rod ! With shatter'd pride, and prostrate heart, We seek the long-forgotten God.

NOT one care-wanting hour my life had tasted;
But from the very instant of my birth,
Incessant woes my tired heart have wasted,
And my poor thoughts are ignorant of mirth.
Look how one wave another still pursueth,
When some great tempest holds their troops in chase,
Or as one hour another close reneweth,
Or posting day supplies another's place ;]

So do the billows of affliction beat me,
And hand in hand the storms of mischief go;
Successive cares with utter ruin threat me,
Grief is enchain'd with grief, and woe with woe.
Brandon.

My God once mix'd a harsh cup, for me to drink from it,

And it was full of acrid bitterness intensest;

The black and nauseating draught did make me shrink from it,

The gods in bounty work up storms about us,
That give mankind occasion to exert
Their hidden strength, and throw out into practice
Virtues that shun the day, and lie conceal'd
In the smooth seasons and the calms of life.
Addison.
Who has not known ill fortune, never knew
Himself, or his own virtue.

Mallett and Thomson.

74. ADVERSITY. Resignation in

NAY then farewell!