He who at this season holy
Came to earth thy grief to heal
Led a sorrowing life and lowly;
He hath suffered-He can heal.
Dost thou weep to be forgiven?
From thy load of sins set free?
He, the Lord of earth and heaven,
Bore their chastisement for thee.
Dost thou sigh, through ceaseless tossing
On a couch whence sleep has fled?
Grief and pain thy future crossing-
Thine a wearied, aching head?

He has said who once was weary,
"Lean thy head upon My breast;
Life for Me was lone and dreary;
I know all-yet bring thee rest.
"I know all: I stand beside thee;
On My heart thy burden lay;
Safe beneath My wings I hide thee,
Keep with thee thy Christmas Day.
"Trust Me! I will never leave thee;
Love Me for I love thee well;
Whisper forth the thoughts that grieve thee;
Fear not sin and care to tell.

"Christmas bells for thee are ringing,
Christ, thy Lord, to thee draws near;
Angels hymns for thee are singing,
Fear thou not: thy King is here!

"Though thy tear-dimmed eyes be holden;
Though My form thou canst not see;
I, who dwell in glory golden-
I, the Lord, am close to thee!"

Therefore smile amidst thy weeping,
Therefore hope through all thy fears;
Therefore let thy Christmas-keeping
Bring thee sunshine through thy tears.

Cast on Jesus all thy sorrow,

On His strength thy weakness stay;
Trust Him for a brighter morrow,
Keep with Him thy Christmas Day!

"We spend our years as a tale that is told."-Psa. xc. 9.

OST measure their lives by time. But we should
measure ours by deeds. One lives a long life in
a few years.
Another lives a short life in many

M

years. It is not the number of days which we exist, but the number of works which we accomplish, that ought to guide us in computing the length of our present life.

Life with us will soon pass away. A tale, as a rule, is quickly told. So our time speedily glides by. If we look back on the years which we have lived they appear but a very little while. Nor will it seem otherwise when we have reached the allotted time of man on the earth. Although they have been laden with temporal mercies and golden opportunities, they look like a dream now, or as a watch in the night. The way to make our life a glorious reality or a long one is to crowd it with tender, self-denying, Christian acts. Then, if we review our life and note all the things we have done for the glory of Christ and the good of man, it will neither appear vain nor short.

Many will read our lives. An interesting and profitable story is perused by young and old, rich and poor; and they talk about it, too, when they get together. Every one is his own biographer. We are all daily writing our own lives, not with ink, but by thoughts and feelings, words and deeds. Ah! and every bad thought and feeling, word and deed, will appear as a blot in them, and it will be so deep that we shall not be able to erase it; and though, if we look to Jesus, He will pardon it, and never mention it to us, yet it will still be there. We shall remember it. So will others. But this is not all. Written biographies may and do in many cases perish; but ours never will. ever; and they will always be read.

They will continue for

Here they are glanced

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at and scanned by God and angels, and by men and devils. Hereafter they will be fully known and pondered. care they do not make you blush and hang your heads.

We should fill our life with noble deeds. The more charming and worthy actions there are in a tale the more that tale is likely to be read, and the more pleasant and useful it proves to be. Nor will it be different with your life if it be made up of kind, instructive words and gracious, self-sacrificing acts. If you think of your past sins, if you repent of them before God, if you look to Jesus to save you through His atoning blood, if you declare yourselves on the Lord's side, if you bow to Christ's authority, if you mortify your corrupt inclinations, if you triumph over temptation, if you labour to give to him that needeth, if you instruct the ignorant, if you circulate religious tracts and good books, if you visit the sick and the dying, if you support God's cause by your presence, conduct, and means-why you are certainly performing excellent deeds, and while you are executing those deeds you are forming a glorious character. The Master went about doing good. So can you. All, whatever be their station in life, can thus act. The man that has but one talent can serve Christ and his generation. To trust in the Lord and do good we do not require a great head but a large heart.

The lives we live tell on others. Tales influence for good or for evil the person who reads them. Just so is it with our lives. We may be extremely poor and very obscure. Still, we are acting on those around us to their advantage or disadvantage. Their character we are to a great extent shaping by our every-day conduct. They copy us and tread in our steps. Hence, no man will go to heaven alone. Nor will any man go to hell alone. The sacred Book says, "None of us liveth to himself, and no man dieth to himself." Oh, consider this well, and seek by God's grace so to live that you may guide sinners to the blessed Saviour.

Our lives will regulate our future destiny. They will, ere long, be a source of shame and grief, or a source of honour and joy to us. The lives we live here will give the dye to the life we shall live hereafter. Jesus will reward or punish us according to our daily behaviour. The course we run will

surely indicate a believing or an unbelieving heart. By our doings we shall doubtless show whether we have received and obeyed, or rejected and disobeyed, the Lord Jesus. Consequently, Christ says, "For the Son of Man shall come in the glory of His Father with His angels; and then He shall reward every man according to his works." And, behold, I come quickly; and My reward is with Me, to give every man according as his work shall be." Remember, as you sow so will you reap. Though living in time, you are living for eternity. The life you live is, therefore, most

momentous.

Reader, what sort of tale will your life be? Will it be a pleasant or a doleful one? You need not wait till you get into the other world before you answer this question. You can reply to it now. If you be living a thoughtless, worldly, ungodly life, it will be the latter. If you be living a truly Christian life, it will be the former. Now, you who have been hitherto living in sin, from this time humbly rely on Jesus for pardoning and renewing grace, and henceforth live for Christ's glory and your neighbour's profit; and your life shall yet be a pleasing and useful tale.

Little Bet, the Gipsy Girl.

IVE years ago a missionary was visiting the gipsy encampment on Wansted Flats. Amongst those whom he urged to "flee from the wrath to come" was a well-known couple, people of some importance in their tribe, yet leading a miserable life themselves, and bringing up a family to follow in their steps. But though they acknowledged that they had neither peace here nor hope of peace hereafter, they turned a deaf ear to the missionary's words, and bade him go about his business. With a heavy heart he turned to leave when he was attracted by the upturned face and earnest gaze of a little dark-eyed child, who had been intently listening to the conversation.

God's Word, as quoted by His servant, had sunk deep into her heart. For the first time in her life she heard of that loving Saviour who casts out none that come to Him, and there and then the little pilgrim's feet began to turn towards the Celestial City.

Another visit was soon paid, and when God's message had been delivered in the vans and tents, Mr. Clarke gathered the children around him, and taught them to say and sing the well-known hymn:

"Lord, teach a little child to pray

Who humbly comes to Thee,
And every night and every day
My friend and Saviour be.

While here I live, give me Thy grace,

And when I'm called to die,

Oh! take my soul to see Thy face,

And sing Thy praise on high."

Again and again did little Betsy meet her much-loved friend sometimes she would run to tell him that she remembered some verse he had taught on a former visit, at others she would only stand with rapt attention, and listen as he talked of Jesus as the friend of little children.

As usual the

Months passed by, and nothing was seen or heard of any member of the family till last Epsom races. gipsies' friend was at work amongst the congregate on that occasion.

masses who

Crossing the Downs to convey an invitation to the gipsies' tea, annually given by an excellent lady during the race week, the missionary unexpectedly met with little Betsy's mother. "Oh, Mr. Clarke !" she exclaimed, "you knowed my little Bet? She's dead. She died at Kingston last Good Friday." Anxiously did the good man ask for particulars.

With many tears the mother told how the little one, long exposed to hardships, had grown weaker and weaker till she lay down under a hedge and died.

"But oh! so happy! She did die-she did die happy!"