They look inside and peck the pane— The sparrows' prayer;

Then look, and peck — and wait again : What do I care?

Have I not prayed and been denied?

Met no reply?

Why should the birds be satisfied

Sooner than I?

Why should I heed their hungry plea
For crumb or crust?

I will give them when God gives me
And that is just.

But not a sparrow leaves its place
Upon the snow:

They look inside with eager face,

But will not go.

They are so sure that I will hear,
Who heard before;

Having received, they feel no fear

In asking more.

"You gave us once," their glances say,

"And will again; "

And still they watch and wait and pray,

Outside the pane.

My hungry heart and selfish will

Are brought to bay,

By sparrows on the window sill:

More wise than they,

I ask, then murmur, then despair;
They ask and wait,

Sure of an answer to their prayer,
Early or late.

The doubting shadows turn and flee;
My eyes grow dim:

Shall sparrows have more faith in me,
Than I in Him

Whose loving kindness made me whole
In all the past;

Whose bounty has endowed my soul
From first to last?

I scatter out the food they ask

With lavish hand;

Their creed it is an easy task

To understand.

Pray and wait, and wait and pray

Sure of reply;

And faith comes back to her olden sway,

Though happy sparrows fly away,

Fuller than I.

REBECCA W. EASTERBROOKS

I will in no wise fail thee, neither will I in any HEBREWS xiii. 5.

wise forsake thee.

I can trust thee; Thou wilt never
Leave thy helpless child alone;
O may storm and sunshine ever
Bear me towards Thee, Holy One.

Not for sunlight would I pray Thee;
Days with earth-born radiance bright;
Give me, Lord, a heart to pay Thee
Grateful praise through sorrow's night.

D.

'N the depths of my woe, I hear a holy voice

With wonderfully e

freshing power, it penetrates through my heart; and my spirit, endowed with new life, rises up to meet it. I hear a divine voice calling to my soul, a voice that has sounded through all time to the entire race of man. It is the voice of God, which saith, "I will not leave thee nor forsake thee."

TSCHOKKE

My Father, why hast thou forsaken me? So cried Jesus on the cross, to give us infinite encouragement when, at the critical times of life, we, too, feel forsaken. He complained of the Father's forsaking to the Father alone. But never was he less forsaken than at that awful moment. The spirit of the Father was never nearer to the son than it was then. Yet he was left alone with the calm majesty of his glorious trust, that our poor, sceptical solitude might be illumined by a similar faith. MOZOOMDAR