DYING WORDS OF WILBERFORCE.

"Come and sit near me; let me lean on you," said Wilberforce to a friend, a few minutes before his death. Afterward, putting his arms around that friend, he said, "God bless you, my dear!" He became agitated somewhat, and then ceased. speaking. Presently, however, he said, "I must leave you, my fond friend ; we shall walk no further through this world together; but I hope we shall meet in heaven. Let us talk of heaven. Do not weep for me. I am very happy. Think of me, and let the thought make you press forward. I never knew happiness till I found Christ a Saviour. Read the Bible! Read the Bible! Let no religious book take its place. Through all my perplexities and distresses, I never read any other books, and I never felt the want of any other. It has been my hourly study; and all my knowledge of the doctrines, and all my acquaintance with the experiences and realities of religion have been drawn from the Bible only. I think religious people do not read the Bible enough. Books about religion may be useful enough, but they will not do instead of the simple truth of the Bible."

OUR VOLUNTEERS.

FROM the forest, hill, and valley,
From the prairie spreading wide,
They are sweeping to the rescue,
In their patriot love and pride.
Men of high and noble daring,
Hearts of firm and holy trust,
For their country's starry banner
Now is trailing in the dust.
Heavenly Father, guide and guard them,
Through this dark and gloomy night,
In the dreadful conflict shield them,
Triumph give to truth and right.

They are coming from the firesides,
From the hallowed light of home,
Looking back with tearful vision,
On the blessings they have known;
Yet with true and manly courage
Pressing onward to the field,
For our native land so cherished
Must not to the traitor yield.
Heavenly Father, guide and guard them,
Through this dark and gloomy night
In the dreaful conflict shield them,
Triumph give to truth and right.

There is sadness at the hearthstone,
And a shadow on the heart,
For the tender ties so broken
Seemed of our own life a part.

But 'tis duty's sacred calling,

And we check the starting tears,
And with hope, and love, and pity,
Pray we for our volunteers.
Heavenly Father, in thy mercy,
Hover round the soldier's way,
In his night of anguish soothe him,
Cheer him in the darkest day.

La Claire, Ill.

M. F. W.

LÎND.

[The following beautiful lines are by Elizabeth Lloyd, a blind Quakeress, of Philadelphia:]

I am old and blind;

Men point to me as smitten by God's frown, Afflicted and deserted of my kind.

Yet I am not cast down.

I am weak, yet strong,

I murmur not that I do no longer see,Poor, old, and helpless, I the more belong, Faiher Supreme, to Thee!

O merciful One!

When men are farthest, then Thou art most pear,
When friends pass by-my weakness shun
Thy chariot I hear.

On my bended knee

I recognize Thy purpose, clearly shown; My vision Thou hast admired, that Thou mayest see Thyseli, Thyself alone.

I have naught to fear!

This darkness is the shadow of Thy wingBeneath it I am almost sacred-here

Can come no evil thing.

Oh! I seem to stand

Trembling where foot of mortal ne'er hath been, Wrapped in the radiance of Thy sinless land, Which eye hath never seen.

Visions come and go

Shapes of resplendent beauty 'round me throng:

From angel lips I seem to hear the flow

Of soft and holy song.

It is nothing now,

When heaven is opening on my sightless eyes,
When airs from Paradise refresh my home,
The earth in darkness lies.

In a purer clime

My being fils with rapture-waves of thought
Roll in upon my spirit-strains sublime
Break over me unsought.

Give me now my lyre;

I feel the strings of a gift divine, Within my bosom glows unearthly fire, 1 it by no skill of mine.