LOSING VICTORIES

My‘ Infant Class’ one summer morn,

Was gathered in the maple shade

Near the church door, and there we talked

Of the fair world our Lord had made —

The swaying trees upon the hill,

The waving grain, the shadowy grove —

Till every little heart seemed filled

With the sweet sense of Jesus’ love.

A query came: Dear little ones,

As days go by what shall we do —

Since Jesus has so loved us all —

To show him that we love him too?

“I'll mind mama,” said wilful Tim;

And Ben, “I'll carry in the wood;”

Said Mary, “I will lessons learn;”

While Dimple lisped, “I will be dood.”

And how will Helen show her love?

She, with a wistful glance at Rose —

A sweet, but pale and timid child —

Replied, “By giving up, I‘ spose.”

Dear girl! To fragile sister Rose

She oft must yield her will and way;

But now this duty shall disclose

Her love for Jesus, day by day.

Oh oft, were we but wise, we'd find

Our triumph in another's gain;

On glowing altar — coals of love —

Would joy to see self-idols slain.

In simplest ways the soul may drink

With Christ the sacrificial cup,

And many a victory is won,

And nobly won, by‘ giving up.’