I'M GOING HOME.

HEB. XI. 13.

I am a stranger here:

No home, no rest

see;

Not all men count most dear,

Can win a sigh from me-
I'm going home!

Jesus! thy home is mine,
And I, thy Father's child:
With hopes and joys divine,
The world's a weary wild-
I'm going home!

Home! oh, how soft and sweet
It thrills upon the heart;
Home! where the brethren meet,
And never, never part-
I'm going home!

Home! where the Bridegroom takes
The purchase of His love;
Home! where the Father waits

To welcome her above-
I'm going home!

And when the world looks cold,
Which did my Lord revile-
A Lamb within the fold,
I can look up and smile-
I'm going home!

When its delusive charms
Would snare my pilgrim feet,
I'll fly to Jesus' arms,

And yet again repeat-
I'm going home!

And as the desert wide,
The wilderness I see,
Lord Jesus! I confide

My trembling heart to thee
I'm going home!

While severing every tie

That holds me from the goal, This, this can satisfy

The cravings of the soul-
I'm going home!

Ah! gently, gently lead
Along the painful way,
Bid every word and deed,
And every look to say-
I'm going home!

LONDON: WILLIAM MACINTOSH,

24, Paternoster-row, E.C.

STORIES OF THE COOMBE RAGGED SCHOOL.

DEAR MADAM,

In compliance with your request, I send you the following few out of the many interesting anecdotes connected with the Coombe School, About the middle of last October, it pleased the Lord to lay His chastening hand upon one of our eldest and best boys by afflicting him with a species of fever, which terminated in his death on the morning of the 23rd of last December.

Shortly after he was taken ill, he was sent to the Adelaide Hospital. While here he was visited by several Christian friends, who felt quite surprised at the knowledge of the sacred Scriptures which he possessed, as well as the clear views which he manifested of the Gospel plan of salvation.

Such was the abundant grace which the Lord in His great mercy had shed abroad in his heart through

the mighty but invisible workings of His Holy Spirit, that his soul seemed to gather strength in proportion to the daily increasing weakness of his mortal frame. Of him it might be truly said, that "though his outward man decayed, yet his inward man was renewed day by day."

Just before his death, his mother, who stood by his bedside bathed in tears, said to him, "James, dear, are you afraid to die?" With a countenance beaming with holy joy, he replied, "Oh, dear mother, why should I be afraid to die, when I am going home to my heavenly Father in the promised land; where you, dear mother, shall be sure to meet me yet, if you put all your trust in the Lord Jesus Christ, who has saved me and washed away my many sins in his own most precious blood." With these blessed words on his lips he closed his eyes in death, and his happy spirit winged its flight to that blessed country where "there is no