" They wandered in the wilderness in a solitary way; they found no city to dwell in. He led them forth by the right way, that they might go to a city of habitation " (Ps. 107:4, 7).

They wandered in the wilderness, a land of pits and
drought,

Where shelter from the burning sun might all in vain be
sought;

On every side around them lay a desert wide-and drear,
And Israel's hosts, through unbelief, were ready to despair.

And yet no cause for dread had they, for God did lead them
forth ;
He gave them water for their thirst, and fed their souls in
dearth;

His cloudy pillar guided them, and shaded them by day,
And in the night His light of fire still pointed out the way.

It was a "solitary" way-for no man dwelt therein ;
In vain the eye was cast around, no friendly face was seen.
They wandered on, alone with God, through all that desert wide,
All human intercourse debarred, all human help denied.

And yet it was "the right way" still, although so sad and
lone;

Each toilsome march, by day. or night, to God was fully known;
Nay, He Himself did go before as their unerring Guide,
To " search them out a resting-place," and from each danger hide.

As pilgrims and as sojourners, they pitched their nightly tent, And onward still at God's command their weary footsteps
bent;

For ne'er within the limits vast of all that wilderness,
They found a city where to dwell in peace and quietness.

For God had purposes of love, beyond their highest thought,
When thus through those untrodden paths His chosen ones He
brought;

He led them to a glorious land where they might rest in
peace,

"A city"He"prepared"for them, where all their toils
might cease.

May not their history, child of God, some cheering thoughts
suggest?

For we, like them, are journeying; this world is not our rest;
And oft through "solitary" paths our heaven ward journey lies;
No certain dwelling-place we find, no home beneath the
skies.

But sweet it is to know that He, who Israel's journeyings led,
Doth order all our steps aright, and gives us daily bread ;
Nor will He ever cease to guide our feet with watchful love,
Until we reach the promised land, Jerusalem above.

Then from that holy, blessed abode we'll cast a backward
gaze
On all the way by which we trod, and own with thankful
praise
That all that now looks dark and sad was ordered for the
best,
To fit us for our Father's Home, our everlasting rest.