POETRY.

ACTS in. 6.

" SILVER and gold I have not: what I have, I give." He spoke, and the man rose and walked. Silver and gold thou hat, 0 Church of God ; But bast thou words of power to raise the dead, Quicken the palsied limb, thrill the deaf ear, Give light to the blind, and break the captive's chain?.

Are thy good tidings for the poor, the weak, The sinful ? Doth the Spirit drive thee forth Into the great and terrible wilderness In search of that one wanderer ? Dost thou leave

The full-fed sheep upon their sunny lawn

Safe-folded, self-complacent P Is it well Thou should'st be robed in purple, crowned with gems, Enthroned in state among earth's mighty ones ?

This is for Kings : and here a poor man reigns.

This for the rich: and were the rich His friends?

He was the very Truth : and art thou true, Hating the merest shadow of a lie, Loving the light, as He is in the light, Himself the source of light ? And dost thou still Grope in a vaulted darkness ? Haat thou faith To trust the spirit of Truth, the Comforter ?

The Truth shall make thee free, sever the bonds Of old convention, loose the swaddling bands That cramp thy vigorous limbs. Arise and walk, Yea, leap and sing : enter thine heritage.

Beautiful was the gate : more beautiful God's temple, the great world, His paradise, Where side by side the lion and the lamb Feed on His bounties.: 'Lis a fair domain: Mar it not, reverence His work, Who wrought All beauty, all delight: let the fat soil Yield of its plenty to enrich the lean

And hungry acres : give the wild, flower room

Beside the cornland : each with one consent Blending to swell the perfect harmony.

We serve the Prince of Peace : ye warring sects Be still, for God bath spoken. 0 my Lords, There is no lordship in God's commonwealth.

No earthly monarch is the Sing ye serve, But the poor carpenter of Nazareth, Whose spiritual throne is in the hearts, of men.

Be clothed in righteousness : bear balms of peace,

The sceptres of His kingdom : take no thought,

But to be true to Him and to His kind.

He knows us, knows our weakness, knows our fears, Feels for our sorrows: there is none but He, Who, God in man, would make men like to God.

Ariee and walk: ye have the key of life: Lay it not up to rust in silken folds.

Open to him that vreepeth at the gate.

Scorn not the infidel, whose gibing tongue Perchance ye set on edge: thus haply thus That word of power ye may regain, which brake Prom Peter's lips at the date Beautiful.