"God's Acre."

Out yonder in the moonlight, wherein God's Acre lies, Go angels walking to and fro, singing their lullabies. Their radiant wings are folded and their eyes are bended low,

As they sing among the beds wherein the flowers delight to grow.

Sleep! Oh, sleep! The shepherd guardeth his sheep. Fast speedeth the night away; soon cometh the glorious

day.

Sleep, weary ones, while ye may. Sleep! Oh, sleep!

The flowers within God's Acre see that fair and wondrous

sight,

And hear the angels singing to the sleepers through the

night.

And, le throughout the hours of day these gentle flow

ers prolong

The music of the angels in that tender slumber song.

Sleep! Oh, sleep! The shepherd loveth his sheep.
He that guardeth His flock the best
Foldeth them into His loving breast.
So sleep ye now and take your rest.
Sleep! Oh, sleep!

From angels and from flowers the years have learned this soothing song,

And with its heavenly music speed the days and nights

along;

So through all time, whose flight the shepherd's vigils

glorify,

God's Acre slumbereth in the peace of that sweet lullaby. EUGENE FIELD.

Condensed Comments.

Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth; yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labors, for their works follow with them.-THE Bible.

God calls our loved ones, but we lose not wholly
What He hath given.

They live on earth, in thought and deed, as truly
As in His Heaven.

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.

DOUBT.

Thomas, the Doubter.

Thomas really wanted to believe, and he swung now into the region of faith with great celerity and with splendid emphasis. Perhaps, while I have been speaking you have been saying: "Ah, yes; how like I am to Thomas!" I beg your pardon. Wait a little; wait a little. You are not simply a Thomas, my dear friend, because you say: "Well, if I could see Him just as He was, and if I could put my hand into the prints of the nails, then I would believe. Yes, I am much like Thomas.' That is not the sign of being Thomas. Thomas was not always sitting in petulance and heaviness, asking for these evidences. We are not Thomases unless we can ring out like a triple peal of bells from an old steeple: "My Lord and my God!"

"Hallelujah! 'Tis done!

I believe in God's Son!
I am saved by the blood
Of the Crucified One!"

Let me hear our emphatic testimony of simple faith in Christ before I will allow you to say, or allow myself to say, that we are Thomases. Let me feel your pulse, as we can feel Thomas' pulse here. You see that he swung round splendidly, and he came up out of the darkness all the brighter for having been for a time down there. So with you and me. Even these eclipses shall t... or our >enefit if we come out of them, if we allow the i to

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