May 31

"Strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life." —Matthew 7:14.

JUST two Ends. One of them is destruction—dark, hopeless, irretrievable, the death of peace, the death of expectancy, the death of every good impulse and every saving movement of the divine Spirit, the death of the soul. And the other of them is life—life at its fullest, sublimest, sweetest, life without sin and without sorrow, life safe from the frost and the snow and the storm and the sun, life in the land of life, life in the presence of God and Christ to all eternity.

Just two Ways. One of them broad, pleasant, thronged with multitudes; a primrose path though it tends ever downward. The other narrow, as it were through a gorge between precipitous rocks which nearly meet, haunted by dangers and enemies, chosen by comparatively few. One, the world's ease and comfort and good-natured carelessness. The other, the Christian's toilsome pilgrimage and long campaign—ah, how the road climbs up and up, and how the hosts of darkness mass themselves in front!

Just two Gates. One of them wide. Its name is Self, my own desires, my own proud thoughts, my own righteousness, my own chosen and darling sins, my own plan and will. The other of them strait. Its name is Christ; Christ trusted, to the neglect and humiliation and crucifixion of Self; Christ sought with repentance and godly sorrow; Christ followed at any hazard and to any martyrdom—"no honour and no friend but Christ."

Consciously, deliberately, unequivocally, let me prefer the strait gate, the narrow way, the end which is everlasting life.

June.

JUNE TIME.

O GOD, Thy thoughts of love appear In this fair noontide of the year! The sunny height, the sapphire sea, The grass with dew and daisies pearled— Yea, all the happy summer world Is full of beauty and of Thee.

From the hid treasures of the skies The clouds, Thy chariots, bring supplies, And on Thine errands come and go; The winds Thy guiding word obey And at Thy bidding, day by day, Breathe gladness o'er the earth below.

The lambs, whose days in play are spent, The cattle drowsy with content, The insect soaring but to fall, Whose little life, at dawn begun, Will vanish ere the setting sun— Thy faithfulness is over all.

Thine is the softness of the showers, The tender springing of the flowers That mark the brightness of Thy ways; The birds that in Thy courts are fed, To render for their daily bread The ceaseless ministry of praise.

For Thee all lovely things unclose, The secret foldings of the rose, Obedient, widen and increase; The earth that on Thy bounty lives, For usury her fulness gives— Thou makest all her borders peace.

So let Thy life in us abound, From Thee alone our fruit is found; O may Thy love, as summer free, Each virtue quicken and control, That in the June-time of the soul We may grow beautiful for Thee!

MARY ROWLES JARVIS.