For it
would not have been I who spoke and acted but Christ who lived in me.
Alas! I have had less than seven years in which to atone for a
sinful, wasted past and to live a new and a Christ-like life. If I am
to have yet more, thanks be to Him who has given me the victory, that
Life will be Love. Not the love that rests in the contemplation and
adoration of its object; but the love that gladdens, sweetens,
solaces other lives.
O gifts of gifts!
O grace of faith
My God! how can it be
That Thou who hast discerning love,
Shouldst give that gift to me?
How many hearts thou mightst have had
More innocent than mine!
How many souls more worthy far
Of that sweet touch of Thine?
Oh grace! into unlikeliest hearts
It is thy boast to come
The glory of Thy light to find
In darkest spots a home.
Oh happy. happy that I am!
If thou canst be, O faith
The treasure that thou art in life
What wilt thou be in death?
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STEPPING WESTWARD.
WHILE my fellow-traveler and I were walking by the side of Loch
Katrine one fine evening after sunset in our road to a hut where in
the course of our tour we had been hospitably entertained some weeks
before, we met, in one of the loneliest parts of that solitary region
two well-dressed women, one of whom said to us by way of greeting,
"What, you are stepping westward?"
"What, you are stepping westward?" "Yea.
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