September 3

Come unto Me all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.

WE have no tears Thou wilt not dry; We have no wounds Thou wilt not heal; No sorrows pierce our human hearts That Thou, dear Saviour! dost not feel.

Thy pity, like the dew, distils; And Thy compassion, like the light, Our every morning overfills, And crowns with stars our every night.

Let not the world's rude conflict drown The charmed music of Thy voice, That calls the weary ones to rest And bids all mourning souls rejoice.

H. M. KIMBALL

THE ALL-SUFFICIENT LOVE