LINES ON THE NEW YEAR.

In some simple words of rhyme Read, and mark the flight of time; Seasons come and disappear, As we pass from year to year. All things ever on the move, Whether them we hate or love; 'Tis a changing scene below— This we own, for this we know. Blest are they—and only they— Who are in the "narrow way"; Seeking Jesus' blessed face; Longing much to know His grace. Mourning over inward sin; Panting only Him to win Who for sin and sinners died, When on Calvary crucified. Do I, who these lines now read, Of redemption feel my need? Do I really long to know That His blood for me did flow? Do my heart and mouth confess I am all unrighteousness? Do I pray indeed to see Christ my Righteousness to be? Do I feel I cannot die Till He does His blood apply? And my doubting soul assure I shall to the end endure? If 'tis so, I know full well I shall surely with Him dwell, And shall, in His house on high, Shout His praise beyond the sky. A. Hammond.

Supposing all the great points of atheism were formed into a kind of creed, I would fain ask whether it would not require an infinitely greater measure of faith than any set of articles which they so violently oppose?—Addison.