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We fancy that God can only manage His world by big battalions abroad, when all the while He is doing it by beautiful babies at home. When a wrong wants righting, or a truth wants preaching, or a continent wants opening, God sends a baby into the world to do it. That is why, long, long ago, a babe was born in Bethlehem.

Frank W. Boreham (Mountains in the Mist).

REINFORCEMENTS

When little boys with merry noise

In the meadows shout and run;

And little girls, sweet woman buds,

Brightly open in the sun;

I may not of the world despair,

Our God despaireth not, I see;

For blithesomer in Eden’s air

These lads and maidens could not be.

Why were they born, if Hope must die?

Wherefore this health, if Truth should fail?

And why such Joy, if Misery

Be conquering us and must prevail?

Arouse! our spirit may not droop!

These young ones fresh from Heaven are;

Our God hath sent another troop,

And means to carry on the war.

Thomas Toke Lynch (1818-1871).

O wind, a word with you before you pass;

What did you to the Rose that on the grass