HOPE FOR THE SORROWING.

BY REV. NELSON BROWN.

THERE is no cloud, however deep and dark,
That hath not in its depths a lightning spark;
There is no desert waste of distant lands,
That hath no cooling fount amid its sands;

Some verdant spots there dot the arid plains,

And Heaven's meek dews fall soft as summer rains.

There is no cheerless, long-protracted night,

That hath not, 'neath its veil, bright stars of light;

There is no lonely cavern, deep and damp,

That gleams no beauty by the faithful lamp;

There is no dungeon cell of awful gloom,

Where God's sweet presence hath not ample room.

There is no star, however far away,

Or hid mid clouds, but hath a willing ray;
There is no plant, however scorned by man,

But hath some purpose in God's wondrous plan;

There is no heart, however steeped in sin,
But hath some spark of goodness deep within.

There are no floods of agonizing grief,

That in their flow bring not some sweet relief;
There is no sorrow of the human heart,

That hath no balm amid its keenest smart.
A germ of good lies hidden in each ill,
To all who meekly do the Father's will.

There is no flower, though nipped by early frost,
Whose scattered fragrance shall be wholly lost.

There is no death, save throwing off this earth; Death is the agent of Immortal Birth.

There is no toil of good, though rife with pain,

THAT SHALL NOT GATHER GOLDEN SHEAVES OF GRAIN.

THE LIGHTS OF EVENING.

BY HENRY BACON.

THE prophet Zachariah speaks of a time when the Lord shall be king over the whole earth in the hearts of adoring humanity, and says, in reference to that time, "It shall come to pass that at evening time it shall be light." The idea seems to be, that where shadows and darkness might be expected, brooding over the souls of men, there should be the light of hope and trust, of joy and praise. This passage has suggested to me the blessings which religion brings to age, the beautiful and solemn lights of life's evening. The Lights of Evening is, then, my theme; and I can best approach and illustrate its fulness by referring, first, to the visible lights of the evening of the day.

First, then, there are the lights of evening in our homes. Forms and objects become indistinct, till at length our comfort demands that we illuminate the

room, drop the curtain, or close the shutter, confessing that evening has come. How pleasant the lights there lit! We gather around the closing repast of the day, or where the book is read, or the shining steel is plied, or the hours are passed in pleasant gossip or conversation. She that "hath a pleasant voice and can play well on an instrument," as the prophet writes, kindles new lights in the smiles and gladness that answer to her music and song, and the garish day is forgotten, with all its cares and burdens, amid the beautiful lights of evening at home.

But there are other lights, — those of the neighborhood. How pleasant it is for the thoughtful one, sitting in the twilight at her casement, to look out and see the lights lit, illuminating one window after another in the distance, inclining the mind to dreaminess respecting the pursuits which those lights are directing! There they shine above the plain repast, the luxurious board, the work-table, the student's desk, and where the mother or the nurse sings the sweet lullaby to the infant on its couch. Yet more suggestive shine the lights of

evening when they are seen as the poet describes his

sight of them:

"I see the lights of the village

Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me,
That my soul cannot resist."

One after another those lights enter the soul, and the rain of grief and the mist of sadness is over gone, and the thoughtful one turns away from the casement to her task, or book, at peace with the world and God.

and

The invalid is cheered, in the hour of sleeplessness, as by a sort of companionship, when the evening lights are greeted as she looks through her window; they are symbols of pleasant things, and the dreary chamber is suddenly transformed by joyous memories, and the presence of the companions of healthful years. When one after another of those neighborhood lights are extinguished, there is no feeling of gloom to the sick one; for they speak to her only of the putting away of what may easily be relit again when the appropriate time shall come, like her own eye, where shall yet be brought the radiance of a new energy and joy.