Chilly but sweet the midnight air;

And lo! with every sound, Down from the ivy-leaf a drop

Comes glittering to the ground.

'Twas night when Christ was born on earth;
Night heard his first, faint cry,
Which angels carolled round the star
Of the Epiphany.

Alas! and is our love too weak
To meet Him on His way?
To pray for nations in their sleep?
For love then let us pray.

Pray for the millions slumbering now;

The sick who cannot sleep;

O may those sweet sounds waft them thoughts As peaceful, and as deep.

Pray for th' unholy, and the vain;
O may that pure-toned bell
Disperse the demon powers of air,
And evil dreams dispel!

Pray for the aged, and the poor`;
The crown-encompassed head;
The friends of youth now far away;
All on a dying bed.

And ever let us wing our prayer
With praise; and ever say
Glory to God who makes the night
Benignant as the day!

Glory to God for ever,

The Father and the Son,

And Thee, O Holy Ghost, by whom
All things are knit in one.

DE VERE.

A MIDNIGHT

HYMN.

In the mid silence of the voiceless night,

When, chased by airy dreams, the slumbers flee; Whom in the darkness doth my spirit seek

O God, but Thee?

And if there be a weight upon my breast,
Some vague impression of the day foregone,
Scarce knowing what it is, I fly to Thee,

And lay it down.

Or if it be the heaviness that comes

In token of anticipated ill,

My bosom takes no heed of what it is,

Since 'tis Thy will.

For O, in spite of past and present care,
Or aught on earth beside-how joyfully
Passes that almost solitary hour,

My God, with Thee.

More tranquil than the stillness of the night, More peaceful than the silence of that hour, More blest than anything, my bosom lies

Beneath Thy power.

For what is there on earth that I desire,
Of all that it can give or take from me?
Or whom in heaven doth my spirit seek
O God, but Thee?

Time.

"Redeeming the Time."

How oft we fret for Time's delays,

And urge him on with sighs, But to lament in after days

How rapidly he flies!

Too late we sorrow to receive

What once we thought a boon: Life hurries past us, but we grieve

To reach the grave too soon.

J. D. BURNS.

"Redeeming the Time."

SOSE one day loitering, 'twill be the same story To-morrow, and the next more dilatory. The indecision brings its own delays, And days are lost, lamenting o'er lost days; What thou canst do, or think'st thou canst, begin it— Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Secure the moment, and the mind grows heated, Begin it, and the work will be completed.

NOW!-TO-DAY!

ARISE! for the day is passing,
While you lie dreaming on;
Your brothers are cased in armour,
And forth to the fight are gone;
Your place in the ranks awaits you;
Each man has a part to play;
The past and the future are nothing
In face of the stern to-day.

Arise from your dreams of the future-
Of gaining a hard fought field,
Of storming the airy fortress,

Of bidding the giant yield;