with the Spirit of Christ, we find joy, love, human kindness and peace governing the whole fraternity-because Jesus is the "Prince of Peace."

When man was created in the image of God, he had a right to the tree of life. But when man fell, he lost that right and was chased away from this privilege. The law of God had aught against him; its cry was, "Without the shedding of blood there is no remission." If man, who was the federal head of his race, was left alone, he would be banished away from the face of the earth, and none of his posterity would have had an existence. But to prolong the existence of man on the earth-"to take the prey from the mighty and deliver the lawful captive"-answer all the demands of divine justice, the only Begotten of the Father, like a strong man with his sword upon his thigh, appeared upon the field of conflict. And when he appeared, divine justice cried out, "Awake, O sword, against my shepherd, and against the man that is my fellow, saith the Lord of hosts." Jesus sees the conflict from of old, and speaks from the battlements of eternity, in a flame of inspi ration, "Lo, I come in the volume of the book is written of me; and I delight to do thy will, O God, and thy law is within my heart." And in the fullness of time he came and fought the battle, and came out victoriously, though he had to shed his own blood. In our day the battle is fought and the victory won. But we can go back through the pages of history, eighteen hundred years ago, and witness the agony in the garden,-before the counsel, before Pilate, before Herod, and back again before Pilate-then the whole scene culminates on Mount Calvary. Then, apparently, the battle is lost. I say apparently, but not really. Jesus, under the pressure, goes down to the region of death.

But in the dark cell of the king of terror he unshielded his own sword, and then, upon his own ground, he slays the monster, and inside the bars of the tomb he swallows death and victory. He conquered death when he laid down his life; when he took it up again he vanquished the foe; then he, like a mighty conqueror, returned to his realm of glory.

When General Grant went back to his old home, in Galena, Ill., from the war of the rebellion, the people of that city welcomed him with a shout. Why did they do that? Because be went out from that city, conquered the enemy, and established peace in the land. So Jesus, when he came into this world, he was accompanied with angels; and when he returned from the war of the cross, angels in a white cloud escorted him to the realms of glory. In our mind, we can follow them through space to the golden gates; then the convocation_stops, and one of them cries out, "Lift up your heads, O ye gates; and be ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of Glory shall come in." Then we hear a voice from within the gates asking, "Who is this King of Glory?" The reply is from outside the gates, "The Lord strong and mighty, the Lord mighty in battle." Then the golden gates swing open, and the whole company, from within and from without,,join in one grand chorus, saying, "Lift up your heads, O ye gates; even lift them up, ye everlasting doors, and the King of Glory shall come in." And Christ, the CONQUEROR, sits upon his throne to-day, and there we "hail him blessed Jesus. The language of all his followers, both in heaven and in earth, is—

"All hail the power of Jesus' name,
Let angels prostrate fall;
Bring forth the royal diadem,
And crown him Lord of all."

BETTY AND MAGGIE.

They're having a sweet conversation-
Friends Betty and Maggie, I know,
We all love with deep veneration,

To chat of the loved long ago;—
Our childhood, its mirth and its pleasure,
Its mem'ries more precious than gold-
Indeed 'tis a joy beyond measure,

To meet with a true friend of old.

They're true friends from days long departed,
How speedily time flies away,
Its time, busy age has imparted—

Their locks that were golden are gray,
Their love, as I judge from their greeting,
Is changed not, untarnished as gold,—
There's something most joyful in meeting
A loved friend, a true friend of old.
The world has its joy and its sorrow,
Comingled, its comfort and pain,
And often more easy to borrow
Its loses, alas, than its gain,

A rose that soon fades is its pleasure-
Companion uncertain, its gold,

There is nothing that friendship can treasure
As one who is faithful of old.

GEORGE CORONWAY, (Shencyn Shadrach.) Suggested by a visit paid to our house, by an old friend of my wife, who she had not seen for fifteen years.

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"THE GOSPEL'S MARCH.":

The "Marseillaise Hymn."

BY MR. JOHN M. EVANS, YOUNGSTOWN, O.
Ye valiant comrades of the Saviour,
Hear, hear His sweet melodious call;
His standards floating on the breezes,
He beacons sinners to enroll, etc,
For the Messia's sorrow and suffering,
Has satisfied the laws of God;
It is the pleasure of our Lord,
And His hand the word will prosper,
March on to teach the word,
Proclaim the glorious name;
March on, March on, to the word;
Until it rules the world.

Ye glorious united Christian legions,
March boldly onwards, why delay?
Ye are the saviours of the nations.
Yon righteous Son proclaim your day;
Long ages waiting for His coming.
Has vanished on the wings of dawn
The Christ-like power claims His own;
The errors of the world are wavering,
March on teach the word.

FAIR PLAY TO THE AMERICAN WELSH PEOPLE.

BY REV. H, C. Parry, d.d., (cefNI.) In the vast American Republic there is hardly a State whose population does not contain thousands of CambroAmerican people, most loyal and faithful citizens. There is no good movement of any importance in connection with the great political and social issues of the country in which the Welsh people have not actively and energetically assisted in carrying them out successfully from the first conception of the Declaration of Independence of the American Republic down to the reconstruction of the Union subsequent to the rebellion of the seceding States.

Do not the Welsh names that dazzle amidst the signatures of the Declaration of Independence shine like nails of gold in boards of cedar, in the days when the cunning artisans nailed together the materials of the ark of freedom and of civil and religious liberty for the world, and in the fabrication of the vast American commonwealth which this day incites the jealousy of the kingdoms and empires of the world, and is a terror to all the mighty oppressors of the earth, and a strong refuge for all the oppressed, of every people and tribe and color under the sun?

It is not necessary to point out the Welsh names, admired and beloved by every patriotic American citizen, whether on the list of our Presidents, the roll of our Generals, or the records of our divines, such as Thomas Jefferson, the celebrated Abraham Lincoln, President Garfield, the wonderful Roger Williams, and the immortal George Washington himself, were of Welsh origin. The grandmother of George Washington sprang out of the Williamses of Mastroiddyn, the same Welsh source as Roger Williams and

Oliver Cromwell. William Penn, also, was descended from the Pennynydd branch of Ednyved Fychan, the origin of the Royal House of Tudor, the root of the Royal family of England!

On the roll of the American Generals we find the names of the heroic Gen. Paul Jones, the valiant Gen. Thomas, and several others, who aided this vast American Republic to take her stand among the most mighty powers of the world! The American Republic has been well supplied with men of Welsh blood, such as Roger Williams, the theological William Myles, the thoughtful Jonathan Edwards, the deep-thinker Dr. W. R. Williams, New York, and the great pulpit orator, the immortal Henry Ward Beecher, who always boasted of his Welsh blood. These names shall never die, but shine and reflect the glory of the Cambro-American race as long as the days of the earth!

Should not the Welsh people be remembered and honored as well as any other nationality which took part in the formation of this glorious commonwealth, and dealt with as worthy of recognition and recommendation as an important, peaceable and loyal constituent of this glorious Republic, and not to be ignored, despised and neglected at all times, as the case bas been hitherto, to a considerable extent, without cause or reason whatever?

The time has come for the Republican party to be mindful of their faithful supporters in the State of Wisconsin, and to elect a Welshman to some of the high offices in the State and not to be heedless of Welsh genius and intellectual capacity which is equal to any other in our State. The Cambro American citizen, in natural ability and practical experience, is capable of discharging the duties of any office whatsoever to the highest satisfaction of the public, to the great honor of the State, and with credit

to himself. As an excellent type of this class of Cambro-Americans, we would mention the Hon. Samuel W. Rees of Dodgeville, Wis., who from an ordinary tradesman, has raised him self to the position of an able lawyer, a popular pleader at the bar, and a prosperous and trustworthy banker, and all chiefly through the strength of his natural genius, the force of his determination and the merits of his noble character. Mr. Rees has proved himself a thorough and genuine Republican for the last forty years, by casting his vote constantly and unmistakeably to support the Republican ticket. He has also been discharging the official duties of several functions in the town of Dodgeville and the town of Iowa, as Town Treasurer and District Attorney, to the highest satisfaction of the people; and he is acknowledged to stand in the front rank among the pleaders of the Wisconsin bar. Certainly such a gentleman, of such character, abilities and record as Mr. Rees, should be recognized and honored with a worthy official position in the State. We cannot think of any one more worthy than Mr. Rees of the nomination for Attorney General of the State of Wisconsin. We hope the Republicans of Wisconsin, in the course of the year, will honor him with the nomination for the office, and we feel sure he would be elected by a large majority.

ISABELLA IN WASHINGTON.

In response to an invitation from the Christian Society of the above city to unite with them in honoring the memory of Dewi Sant at their dinner on the anniversary of his thirteen hundredth birthday, March 1st, 1894, we dispensed with our usual simple mode of traveling and stepped aboard the Royal Blue Line flyer at 11:30 A. M., and after paying a few

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minutes' respects to Philadelphia, Wilmington and Baltimore, the wheels of the mighty engine, one of 20th century annihilators of space, ceased to revolve, and at 4:30 P. M., its scheduled time of arrival, we alighted near the capitol, the sight of which brought vividly to mind the parliamentary buildings in London, not architecturally, as they are simply a contrast, but because the political destinies and welfare of the English speaking race (England and America themselves representing over one hundred millions of it) are made and unmade in these shrines of liberty. Cuckoos have occasionally found a refuge within the walls of both these magnificent piles, representing a nation's life and history. The Risca cuckoos disliked their surroundings so much that the natives there erected a fence around the fields to keep them in. The American political cuckoo reverses that style by remaining unguarded and unfenced, so we may conclude that the climate and bill of fare agree with his tough constitution. These birds, earning their sustenance by the sweat of their jaws, were, through a zeal born of ignorance, sent there from all parts of our land, and now the intelligence (gained in the hard school of experience) of every part of this vast continent demands the return of their remains, so we look for a large funeral soon, and rumor says that rural sextons and proprietors of cemetery lots are looking for increased and lucrative business at an early date. Flowers will be conspicuous by their absence. and the mourners will, like the mutes of old, have to be hired, and the sorrow expressed and the tears shed will be according to the pay offered. Even the retired veterans of Coxey's poorly clad and ill-fed army ask two dollars a tear and a pair of Dent's gloves for the ordeal of feigning a grief which they do not

feel. Some heretics have openly expressed the opinion that the cuckoo's loss will be the country's gain.

Seeing the Stars and Stripes float from the Capitol, inspired us with an unbounded faith that these Stars which have illumined the pages of our country's history, and those Stripes which have chastened many intruders upon its soil, made sacred by the patriotic blood of its many martyrs, too many and too well known to be enumerated, will, through the guidance of our fathers' God, for ever float over this land-pessimists and cranks notwithstanding. As its past exaltation has come only through righteousness, so only by a practical embodiment in our lives of the principles which animated the God-preserved first-class passengers of the sacred "Mayflower" (no second or third-class in those days) can this country expect to remain the beacon light of the world.

"O God, beneath Thy guiding hand
Our fathers crossed the sea;

And when they trod the wintry strand,
With prayer and psalm they worshipped
Thee.

Laws, freedom, truth and faith in God
Came with those exiles o'er the waves,
And where their Pilgrim feet have trod
The God they trusted guards their graves."
Had Dewi Sant not met with a pre-
mature death through an overdose of
theology, but lived to witness this his
birthday, he would have taken off his
bishop's hat, and pronounced a Welsh
benediction at the sight of the Star
Spangled Banner being unfurled in
his honor by his kinsman Uncle Sam,
and would not so far have forgotten
his good manners as to request that
Y Ddraig Goch or Union Jack should
be honored with any but a subordinate
position, and we would have heard
the good old Cymro exclaim, "One
country, one flag," and that flag
the Star Spangled Banner, adored

and held sacred by sixty-five million free people. Is not this emblem of liberty good enough for any of the saints that have lived in the past or ever will live in the future? Had the good old Dewi Sant the honor of being adopted into the great American family, we fancy we should hear him correct the ignorance and inconsistency of his followers, as well as those of his brother, Saint Patrick, when they call themselves "Welsh" and "Irish Americans," and opening up the dark vistas of their understandings by teaching them the self-evident fact that the greater always includes the lesser. Thus when we came, as many of us did, to this land of oppor tunities, strawberries and peaches, and having found it congenial enough to become adopted as one of its sovereigns (every man who votes is a sovereign here), but we confess with a blush of shame that there are many counterfeits found passing as current coin; we should have honor and patriotism enough in our make-up to be Americans only, and not play Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Should we not leave the matter of our birth, a pure and unavoidable accident as far as we were concerned, to our homes and friendly gatherings, and not intrude it as an ill-fitting handle to a name good enough for Washington, the liberator of his country from an alien power; Lincoln, the liberator of five million slaves, and the greater liberator, Cleveland, who, with his party, have liberated nearly as many sons of honest toil from remunerative labor, and instead of the music of the anvil and hammer, keeping time to the tones of other mechanics' tools, we have the soup kitchen and charity bureaus, which, instead of elevating, degrade and crush the aspirations of the once prosperous American workman who loathes charity as he would the small pox. We admire the cheer