January 21

1 I am come into my garden, my sister, my spouse: I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk; eat, O friends; drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved.

2 ¶ I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.

3 I have put off my coat; how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet; how shall I defile them?

4 My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door, and my bowels were moved for him.

5 I rose up to open to my beloved; and my hands dropped with myrrh, and my fingers with

sweet smelling myrrh, upon the handles of the lock.

6 I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone: my soul failed when he spoke: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer.

7 The watchmen that went about the city found me, they smote me, they wounded me; the keepers of the walls took away my vali from me.

8 I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find my beloved, that ye tell him, that I are sick of love.

9 ¶ What is thy beloved more than another beloved, O thou fairen among women? what is thy beloved more than another beloved, that thou dost so charge us?

10 My beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand. 11 His head is as the most fine gold; his locks are bushy, and black as a raven. 12 His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of waters, washed with milk, and fizzy set; 13 His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers; his lips like lilies, dropping sweet smelling myrrh:

14 His hands are as gold rings set with the beryl, his belly is as bright ivory overlaid with sapphites; 15 His legs are as pillars of marble, set upon sockets of fine gold; his countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars; 16 His mouth is most sweet; yea, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.

In each quality which makes the dearest names in human life, Christ so excels that He is infinitely above all others. We are not accustomed to weave into His name all those sweet, familiar attributes which we see in the household, or which we meet in a circle of friends; and yet, in respect to every one of those qualities which go to make names that are dear to the heart, the Lord Jesus Christ is infinitely above them, infinitely superior to them in every thing. . . . His name is above every name. He is more fatherly than fathers, and more motherly than mothers. He is more tender in love than any lover. Language is exhausted in the Bible to signify the inflections of divine tenderness."—H. W. Beecher.

"This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem" (ver. 16).

"This is the Church's confession concerning her love for Christ. See the Saviour's response (Psa. xlv. 1-17; John xv. 15). As such, no longer a servant's place, for wages, or a servant's limitations, but the familiarity and counsels of a friend. His will, unknown to others, is made known to you. 'Abraham was the friend of God' (James ii. 23)—appeared to him, conversed with him, revealed secrets to him."—Rev. John Parker.

Closet Promise.—My Beloved is mine, and I am His.—Sol Song ii 16.

Tame I am! give me love's secret token; Blood has sealed Thee, Thou art mine; Let the echo in my heart be spoken; Mark me with the inward sign!

With thee all things doing, all things daring, Living, dying, all the future sharing; This my inmost spirit with; Covenant in life and death. —J. E. Rankin, D. D.

THE CHILDREN'S CORNER.

Breakfast Motto.—The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.—Psalm xxiii. 1

Weekly Proverb.—Blame-all and Praise-all are two block-heads.—Poor Richard.

DAILY BIBLE READING.—THE SABBATH.

Sunday.—Must be remembered.—Ex. xx. 8-11.

Monday.—Must be Employed in Divine Worship.—Isa. lxvi. 23; Acts xx. 7.

Tuesday.—Must be Held in Delight.—Isa. lviii. 13, 14; Psa. cxviii. 24.

Wednesday.—Not to be Disturbed by Noise and Tumult.—Hab. ii. 20; Psa. lxv. 1-13.

Thursday.—Not to be Profaned by Traffic for Gain.—Neh. xiii. 15 22; John ii. 13-17.

Friday.—May be Employed in Works of Necessity.—Mark ii. 23-28.

Saturday.—Also in Works of Mercy.—Matt. xii. 10-13; Luke xiii. 10-17.

THE LITTLE ARMY.

There's a funny little army.

Clad in armor silver-bright;

Though it stands in warlike columns,

Yet 'tis never known to light.

Very sharp those little soldiers,

Always useful, night or day;

People think it quite an honor

To be called as neat as they.

Often missed when they are needed,

Though they don't march to and fro,

It has ever been a puzzle

To determine where they go;

Only pins upon a cushion,

Yet be very proud we might

Were we, like this little army,

Always useful, neat, and bright.

-- Good Times

Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain.—Ex xx 7.

I hope no little friend who reads this Talk ever curses or swears. Boys think it sounds manly to be profane; but, what a dreadful thing it is! Surely, if people would only remember God hears them, they would never swear. A coachman, pointing to one of his horses, said to a traveller, "That horse, sir, knows when I swear at him."—"Yes," replied the traveller; "and so does your Maker." I want to tell you good John Howard's opinion of swearers. As he was one day standing near the door of a printing-office, he heard some dreadful oaths and curses from several men coming down the street. He immediately buttoned up his pocket, and said to those who stood near him, "I always do this, whenever I hear men swear; for I think that any one who can take God's name in vain can also steal, or do anything else that is bad." Like Howard I am afraid to trust the man or boy that swears. I wish every boy in our land would commit to memory these lines of Cowper:

"It chills my blood to bear the blest Supreme Lightly appealed to on each trifling theme;

Maintain your rank; vulgarity despise; To swear is neither brave, polite, nor wise."

GOD'S-ACRE.

I like that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls The burial ground God's Acre! It is just; It consecrates each grave within its walls, And breathes a benison o'er the sleeping dust.

God's Acre! Yes, that blessed name imparts Comfort to those, who in the grave have sown The seed that they had garnered in their hearts, Their bread of life, alas! no more their own.

Into its furrows shall we all be cast, In the sure faith, that we shall rise again At the great harvest, when the archangel's blast Shall winnow, like a fan, the chaff and grain.

Then shall the good stand in immortal bloom, In the fair gardens of that second birth; And each bright blossom mingle its perfume With that of flowers which never bloomed on earth.

With thy rude ploughshare, Death, turn up the sod, And spread the furrow for the seed we sow; This is the field and Acre of our God, This is the place where human harvests grow! —H. W. Longfellow.

FOURTH WEEK.

PEARL TEXT.—"My word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.—Psalm cxix. 105.

When quiet in my house I sit, Thy book be my companion still; My joy thy sayings to repeat, Talk o'er the records of thy will,

And search the or. cles divine. Till every heart till word be mine. Charles Wesley.

Do you know a book that you are willing to put under your head when you are dying? Very well; that is THE BOOK you need to study while you are living. There is but one such book in the world.—Joseph Cook.

If asked what is the remedy for the deeper sorrows of the human heart—what a man should chiefly look to in his progress through life, as the power that is to sustain him under trials and enable him manfully to confront his afflictions, I must point him to something which, in a well-known hymn, is called "The old, old story," told of in an old, old Book, and taught with an old, old teaching, which is the greatest and best gift ever given to mankind.—Gladstone.

HELPS FOR THE DEVOTIONAL HOUR.