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20 The Family THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. "Let us go forth therefore unto him wl out the camp, bearing his reproach."?Heb. 13:13. By Margaret Mauro. I can not give it up. The little world I huow, The innocent delights of youth, The things 1 cherish so! 'Tis true, I love my Lgrd, " A. x- J ? Ul- 411. Ana warn 10 uu uia win, And, oh, I may enjoy the world And be a Christian still! I love the hour of prayer, I love the hymns of praise; I love the blessed Word that tells Of God's redeeming grace. But I am human still! And while 1 dwell on earth God surely will not grudge the hours I spend In harmless mirth! These things belong to youth And are its natural right? My dress, my pastimes and my friends The merry ana tne Drigni. My Father's heart la kind! He will i)ot count it ill That my small corner of the world Should-please and hold me still. And yet?"outside the camp"? I'Twas there my Saviour died! It was the world that cast him forth And saw him crucified. Can I take part with those Who nailed him to the tree? And where his name is never praised Is there the place for me? Nay, world! I turn away, Though thou seem fair and good; That friendly outstretched hand of thi Is stained with Jesus' blood. If in thy least device I stoop to take a part, aii unaware, mine innuence steals God's presence from my heart. i miss my Saviour's smile Whene'er I walk thy ways; Thy laughter drowns the Spirit's voice And chokes the springs of praise. If e'er I turn aside To Join thee for an hour, The face of Christ grows blurred and dl And prayer has lost Its power. Farewell! Henceforth my place Is with the Lamb who died. My Sovereign, while I have thy love, What can I want beside? S Thyself, dear Lord, art now ;>ijf nee ttuu luviiiK cnoice, "In whom, though now I see thee not, Believing, I rejoice." Shame on me that I sought Another joy than this. Or dreamt a heart at rer.' with thee .Could crave for earthly bliss! These vain and worthless things, I put them all aside; ? . . ? THE PRESBYTERIAN OF THE SOU! v r His goodness fills my longing soul, And I am satisfied. ? Lord Jesus,'let me dwell "Outside the camp" with thee! Since thou art there, then there alone Is peace and home for me. Thy dear reproach to bear. I'll count my highest gain, Till thou return, my banished King, To take thy power and reign. ?New York Observer. THE PECULIAR CHOICE OF PERSIS. By Harriet Lummis Smith. Mrs. Armitage reached a well-shaped hand across the back of the pew. "I'm glad to see you," she exclaimed. "I felt sure that Grace Church would claim you as scon as 1 heard that you had moved to Twentieth street. Not that it is so very near," she added, ' but the street cars make it very convenient." The morning service was just over. The rich tone of the crgan rose jubilant and compelling above the voices of the congregation, decorously exchanging greetings. Persis looked about her with nuiiiv upprcciuiiuu ui iae caarm 01 me ' scene, the harmonious tints of the frescoes, the kaleidoscopic beauty of the well-dressed people, moving leisurely down the aisles. It was a bright Sunday, and the pews were full. The atmosphere of the place was that of peace and prosperity. Persia fell into step wltft Mrs. Armitage and made answer to the lady's cordial greeting. "Oh, I don't mind being at a little distance from the church I attend. I'd rather have a bracing walk than only be a block or two away. But I haven't quite made up my mind yet where I shall take my letter. You see that the First Church is at about the same distance from no oa Hro^o ne "My dear child!" The expression of Mrs. Armitage's face indicated amusement and consternation in about equal parts. "Have you attended service there yet?" she queried. "Not yet," said Persia, wondering. "Then, I won't expostulate," the lady laughed. "One visit will decide the question. You see, my dear," she went on, apparently unable in spite of her assurance to leave the matter to Persia herself, "the days of usefulness for the First Church are over. It is situated in that m' boarding hotise section where people Pnmo o an on/4 *-? >?u\4 uuu nuuuuj otajro IUU5 enough to get a real interest in anything. I'm sorry for the pastor, poor man, but it is only a question of tim6 when they will have to give up. Our church is very fortunately situated, and we have a splendid class of people. You'll enjoy them." "I'm sure I should be happy here," Persia answered warmly. Her family had just moved into the city from the suburbs, and this was her first Sunday. Her new home was midway between two churches of the denomination to which she belonged, and she had made up her mind to visit both at least once before p. m'.w - *H. July 14, 1909. deciding with which one she would cast her lot. It was characteristic of Persls that she adhered to this determination, even after Mrs. Armitage had revealed to her the true conditions of things at the First Church. That the picture she had drawn was not an exaggerated one was plain to Persis as she sat the following Sunday in the congregation of the old down-town church whi?h was striving so valiantly to live up to its past reputation. The absence of the "family pew," the occupants ranging from the substantial business man at one end down to the juve- ? niie member of the household but recently promoted to. the dignity of church-going, was noticeable. Nine- S tentha of the congregation were young people, clerks, students, stenographers, the majority of them with that air of restless alertness characteristic of the semi-homeless element of the great cities. The sermon was an earnest one, simple and straightforward, of the sort to appeal to the shifting, changing audience which met at the First Church Sunday after Sunday. Yet the attention of Persis wandered more than once. Mrs. Armltage's words came back to her, "The. First Church has outlived its usefulness." She looked about at the rows of uplifted youthful faces, the faces of young people, many of them without the restraint { oT home influence, far from the help of a father's counsel or a mother's care, and she caught herself wondering what ffrpntor POonAnalkllU.. ?- 1'? Q* vwwa i VO|/V/1101U1I11>J' 1 CBICU Ull in? church than that of ministering to needs such as these. The First Church still had a work to do. But, though the harvest was plentiful, the laborers were few. Two girls in the pew in front of her spoke to each other hurriedly as the benediction was finished. "Mamie, do try to speak to that girl in the red Jacket before she gets out. I've invited her here twenty times, and she never came before. Ask her to the young people's meeting to-night." aii right, Maggie." Mamie hurried away in pursuit of the girl in the red jacket, who was making for the door with as much directness as if she had f been an evil-doer bent on escape. The other greeted Persis cordially and invited her to come again, evidently assuming her to belong to the changing population of the neighborhood. But the minister knew better. He stood by the door when she went out, shaking hands, recognizing with extraordinary quickness faces he had seen before, throwing into his brief question the cordiality and warmth which he hoped might help to make his church something of a home for these hurrying hundreds of young people, with only the influence /v# ? * ui a. cucap uunruing nouse to stand between them and the world's temptations. But when Persia's turn came he looked at her hard as he held her hand, recognizing at once that she was a representative of a different environment. "You are a stranger here, are you not?"