It might have been the Jordan flowed along
Or that, sweet stream where people met for prayer,
Still expectation held the gathering throng
By the lake shore, in the hushed Sabbath air

And earnest, fervent pleading prayer was made
Rose the sweet strains of the old Scottish psalm
And words of witness for God s truth were said,
The only sound that broke the sacred calm

Then down into the waters of the lake,
The preacher and believer slowly came,
Not heeding scornful words for His dear sake,
Who bore the cross for us despised the shame

Buried with Him by baptism to death
Following the path which He the Sa lour trod,
To rise with Him to that new life He saith
He hath laid up for us with Christ in God




GOOD-BYE.

(To Miss E E.)


I cannot write, my tears are flowing fast,