The Girl's Own Paper, Vol. XX, No. 984, November 5, 1898

Heard ye the heavenly voice? Solemn and deep, its warning soundeth near, Falling like thunder on the careless ear, Bidding the heart of humble faith rejoice:— Arise! and list not idly to my strain, Fulfil your task while daylight may remain, For the Night cometh on!
Oh! while the morning hour Of life is yours, upon the youthful brow Be the pure seal of Heaven imprinted now ! Oft the Great Reaper culls the early flower. But not untimely culled, to whom 'tis given To show how brightly shines the light of Heaven Through the Night coming on!
Oh! sound of joy to him Who the good fight hath fought, and on the field, So hardly won, may slumber on his shield, Looking to Heaven, while Earth around grows dim. Tracing his Saviour's footsteps to the tomb, He sees no cause of fear, no shade of gloom, In the Night coming on.
May we, too, see the light, Shining beyond the darkness that we fear, And tread the path, whereon its radiance clear Shall guide our footsteps, if we walk aright. Be ours to labour on, in humble trust To share the blest repose that waits the just, When the Night cometh on!
HOME TO FOLD.
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A TALE OF THE FRANCO-ENGLISH WAR NINETY YEARS AGO.
By AGNES GIBERNE, Author of Sun, Moon and Stars, The Girl at the Dower House, etc.
Three or four more days of strain, and then the abscess in the ear broke, causing speedy relief. The first thing that Roy did was to fall into a profound sleep, which lasted some hours.
When he woke up, feeling markedly better, his murmur was for Den! as usual; and since no reply came, he said Den! more loudly.