A happier lot than mine, and larger light,

Await thee there; for thou hast bowed thy will In cheerful homage to the rule of right,

And lovest all, and renderest good for ill.

For me, the sordid cares in which I dwell,
Shrink and consume the heart, as heat the scroll;
And wrath has left its scar-that fire of hell
Has left its frightful scar upon my soul.

Yet, though thou wear'st the glory of the sky, Wilt thou not keep the same beloved name, The same fair thoughtful brow, and gentle eye, Lovelier in heaven's sweet climate, yet the same?

Shalt thou not teach me, in that calmer home,
The wisdom that I learned so ill in this-
The wisdom which is love-till I become
Thy fit companion in that land of bliss?

FEAR thou not, for I am with thee; be not dismayed, for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my right

eousness.

ISAIAH.

A JOYFUL HAVEN IS BEYOND THIS SEA OF DARKNESS.

WHYTE.

THE Ocean spreads wide and dark before you; but it will waft you to Emmanuel's happy shore. There thy sun shall no more go down, neither shall thy moon withdraw itself.' This delightful prospect has made the dying saint sing upon his death-bed, when his friends around him were lamenting. This has made him lift up his head with joy, because the day of his redemption drew near. 'When this corruption shall put on incorruption, and this mortal shall put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory.'

ALTHOUGH affliction cometh not forth of the dust, neither doth trouble spring out of the ground, yet man is born unto trouble as the sparks fly upward: I would seek unto God, and unto God would I commit my

cause.

JOB.

WHY MOURN THE OLD?

BRYANT.

WHY mourn ye that our aged friend is dead?
Ye are not sad to see the gathered grain,

Nor when their mellow fruit the orchards cast, Nor when the yellow woods shake down the ripened mast.

Ye sigh not when the sun, his course fulfilled,
His glorious course, rejoicing earth and sky,
In the soft evening when the winds are stilled,
Sinks where his islands of refreshment lie,
And leaves the smile of his departure spread
O'er the warm-colored heaven, and ruddy moun-
tain head.

Why weep ye then for him, who, having run
The bound of man's appointed years, at last,
Life's blessings all enjoyed, life's labors done,
Serenely to his final rest has passed;

While the soft memory of his virtues, yet

Lingers like twilight hues when the bright sun is set?

BEHOLD, I stand at the door and knock; if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me.

REVELATION.

OUR WAY WOULD BE DARK, IF THE SUN

OF RELIGION DID NOT ILLUMINE IT.

WILLIAM G. GODDARD.

DARK and agitated indeed would be our passage from the cradle to the grave, if Christianity had not unsealed a fountain of eternal illumination and repose; if, over our heritage of woe, it had not shed the light of its peaceful hopes, and invited afflicted man to look to its never failing consolations. It is not only amid the overwhelming calamities of life that these consolations are needed, or that their power to soothe and to sustain comes to be experienced. Under circumstances of less aggravated trial, they are endowed with an unobtrusive but triumphant energy. Amid mystery and change, in seasons of doubt, and loneliness, and depression, the worn spirit flees to the consolations of the gospel, as the oriental traveller hasteth to the shadow of a great rock in a weary land.'

6

I WILL hope in the Lord, for with him there is mercy and plenteous redemption. For he taketh pleasure in them that fear him, in those that hope in his mercy.

TAKE ALL, GREAT GOD!

NORRIS OF BEMERTON.

SINCE 't is thy sentence I should part

With the most precious treasure of my heart,
I freely that and more resign, —

My heart itself, as its delight, is thine.
My little all I give to thee-

Thou gavest a greater gift, thy Son, to me.

Take all, great God: I will not grieve,
But still will wish that I had still to give.
I hear thy voice; thou bidst me quit
My paradise; I bless and do submit ;
I will not murmur at thy word,

Nor beg thy angel to sheathe up his sword.

'THE children of the resurrection can die no more.' Never more will you kiss the pale lips of your Christian friends, nor fear another agonizing separation; but, together with them, you will be with the Lord forever. What balm does this declaration of the apostle distil into the bleeding heart of friendship! Well might he add, Comfort one another with these words.