January 7

THE wounded creatures seek the shade And creep away alone to die, Sick hearts, of careless touch afraid, Shun the rude world and open sky.

There is a deep and sacred gloom Where wounded hearts may enter in; For every sorrow 'tis a tomb, A hiding-place for every sin.

There bitter pangs of woe and loss, There bitter pains of shame—the chief, Are hidden by the Saviour's Cross, And that dark cloud that veiled His grief.

Pass in thou stricken heart, 'tis dim; But One is there who bleeds for thee, Thy anguish will be safe with Him, Thy aching heart shall solaced be.

Through the deep gloom that shades that place A voice of love shall soothe thy pain, Although unseen the blessed Face Of Him who dies thy peace to gain.

'Tis blessedness to share His woe, And hidden in that darkness lie. With Him despair thou canst not know, By Him canst surely dare to die.

J. E. A. BROWN

THE PRESENT VICTORY

S Jan. Morning

Bearing aloft in folded hands of prayer, Safe through the windy world the fire divine.

LIKENESS to God is not a far-off hope, a light that gleams upon us through the mists of time, a prize to be won only when revolving years have passed. It is a present and immediate experience, or rather it is a thing which does not belong to the sphere of time and cannot be spoken of in forms of expression that belong to it. In religion the spirit passes out of the realm of time, rises above the passing shows of things, the vain fears and vainer hopes that pertain to the things seen and temporal. The outward life may be still in some measure a life of effort, struggle, conflict; but in that inner sphere in which the true life lies, the strife is over, the victory already achieved; hope has passed into fruition, struggle into conquest, restless effort and endeavour into perfect peace—"the peace of God which passeth all understanding."

JOHN CAIRD

THE PRESENT VICTORY