The Long Farewell.

We are ever taking leave of something that will not

come back again. We let go, with a pang, portion after

potion of our existence. However dreary we may have

felt life to be here, yet when that hour comes—the wind-

ing up of all things, the last rush of darkness on our

spirits, the hour of that sudden wrench from all we have

ever known or loved, the long farewell to sun, moon,

stars and light—brother men! I ask you this day, and I

ask myself, humbly_and fearfully, what will then be fin-

ished? When it is finished, whaz will it be? Will it

be the butterfly existence of pleasure, the mere life of

science, a life of uninterrupted sin and selfish gratifica-

tion? Or will it be: ‘‘Father, I have finished the work

which Thou gavest me to do”?

——F. W. RoBErRTSON.