s, mariners and
merchants, scholars and poets, now of the church triumphant: memories
that consecrate the souls of men and banish ignoble thoughts. Here is an
altar sacred to hosts of men and women, the holy of holies of their
noblest aspirations.

"Mark well her bulwarks, that ye may tell it to the generation
following." As the years roll on children and children's children will
arise and call those blessed whose fidelity thru a century has preserved
for them a holy place where "men still renew their youth."

[Illustration]

JESUS, SAVIOR, PILOT ME

Jesus, Savior, pilot me,
Over life's tempestuous sea;
Unknown waves before me roll,
Hiding rock and treacherous shoal;
Chart and compass come from Thee,
Jesus, Savior, pilot me.

When the apostle's fragile bark
Struggled with the billows dark
On the stormy Galilee,
Thou didst walk upon the sea;
And when they beheld Thy form
Safe they glided thru the storm.

Tho the sea be smooth and bright,
Sparkling with the stars of night,
And my ship's path be ablaze
With the light of halcyon days,
Still I know my need of Thee;
Jesus, Savior, pilot me.

When the darkling heavens frown.
And the wrathful winds come down,
And the fierce waves, tost on high,
Lash themselves against the sky,
Jesus, Savior, pilot me.
Over life's tempestuous sea.

As a mother stills her child
Thou canst hush the ocean wild;
Boisterous waves obey Thy will
When Thou sayest to them "Be still."
Wondrous Sovereign of the sea,
Jesus, Savior, pilot me.

When at last I near the shore,
And the fearful breakers roar,
'Twixt me and the peaceful rest,
Then, while leaning on Thy breast,
May I hear Thee say to me,
"Fear not, I will pilot thee."

Edward Hopper.

THE OLD CHURCH

The old church long has stood,--
For ages may it stand,
Storehouse of heavenly food
And lighthouse of the land.

Within its sacred walls
What thousands, now asleep,
Where its blest shadow falls
Have bowed to pray and weep!

Old church, with doctrines old
As God's eternal truth,
Within its sacred fold
Men still renew their youth.

Still in its water springs,
Whose streams are never dry,
Hope bathes her drooping wings,
And gathers strength to fly.

Still from its tower of light
The radiant truth is given
To cheer men thru the night
And guide them on to heaven.