_And every man that hath this hope in him purifieth himself, even as He is pure_.–I JOHN iii. 3.

Now, Lord, what wait I for? On Thee alone My hope is all rested,– Lord, seal me Thine own! Only Thine own to be, Only to live to Thee. Thine, with each day begun, Thine, with each set of sun, Thine, till my work is done.
ANNA WARNER.
Now, believe me, God hides some ideal in every human soul. At some time in our life we feel a trembling, fearful longing to do some good thing. Life finds its noblest spring of excellence in this hidden impulse to do our best. There is a time when we are not content to be such merchants or doctors or lawyers as we see on the dead level or below it. The woman longs to glorify her womanhood as sister, wife, or mother. Here is God,–God standing silently at the door all day long,–God whispering to the soul, that to be pure and true is to succeed in life, and whatever we get short of that will burn up like stubble, though the whole world try to save it.
ROBERT COLLYER.