ONE of Frances Ridley Havergal's poems tells of an Eolian harp which a friend sent with a letter, describing the wonderful sweetness of the tones. Miss Havergal took the harp and thrummed its seven strings, but there was no thrilling strains, only common music. She then read the letter again, and found instructions that she had overlooked at first. Then she raised the window and put the harp under the sash. Now the wind swept over the strings and the room was filled with melodious strains, which no fingers of man could have procured. Only when the breath of heaven blew upon the harp could its marvelous music be brought out. The human soul is such a harp. Human fingers call out much that is lovely and sweet, but it is only when its chords are swept by the breath of heaven, by the Holy Spirit, that its noblest music is called out.—Christian Herald.