"Come," he saith, "ye heirs of glory;

Come, ye purchase of my blood; Claim the Kingdom now before you, Rise, and fill the mount of God,

Fix'd for ever

Where the Lamb on Sion stands."

See! ten thousand burning seraphs

From their thrones as lightnings fly; "Take," they cry, "your seats above us, Nearest Him that rules the sky!" Patient sufferers,

How rewarded are ye now!

Now their trials all are ended:

Now the dubious warfare's o'er; Joy no more with sorrow blended, They shall sigh and weep no more; God for ever

Wipes the tear from every eye. Through His passion all victorious Now they drink immortal wine; In Emmanuel's likeness glorious As the firmanent they shine; Shine for ever,

With the bright and morning Star.

Shout aloud, ye ethereal choirs!
Triumph in Jehovah's praise!
Kindle all your heavenly fires,
All your palms of victory raise !
Shout His conquests,

Shout salvation to the Lamb!

In full triumph see them marching
Through the gates of massy light,
While the City walls are sparkling
With meridian glory bright;

Oh how lovely
Are the dwellings of the Lamb!
Hosts angelic all adore Him

Circling round His orient seat;
Elders cast their crowns before Him,
Fall and worship at His feet;
O how holy

And how reverend is Thy Name!

Hail, Thou Alpha and Omega !

First and Last, of all alone! He that is, and was, and shall be, And beside whom there is none! Take the Glory,

Great Eternal Three in One!

THOMAS OLIVERS.

LORD, DISMISS US WITH THY BLESSING.

LORD, dismiss us with Thy blessing,

Fill our hearts with joy and peace; Let us each, Thy love possessing, Triumph in redeeming grace; Oh refresh us,

Travelling through this wilderness.

Thanks we give, and adoration,

For Thy gospel's joyful sound; May the fruit of Thy salvation In our hearts and lives abound: May Thy presence With us evermore be found.

So, whene'er the signal's given
Us from earth to call away,
Borne on angels' wings to heaven,
Glad the summons to obey,
May we ever

Reign with Christ in endless day.

WALTER SHIRLEY

THERE IS A GREEN HILL. THERE is a green hill far away, Without a city wall,

Where the dear Lord was crucified, Who died to save us all.

We may not know, we cannot tell

What pains He had to bear, But we believe it was for us

He hung and suffer'd there.

He died that we might be forgiven,
He died to make us good,
That we might go at last to heaven,
Sav'd by His precious blood.

There was no other good enough
To pay the price of sin;
He only could unlock the gate
Of heaven, and let us in.

O dearly, dearly has He lov'd,
And we must love Him too,
And trust in His redeeming blood,
And try His works to do.

CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER.

LIFE.

LIFE.

Less than a span:

So to the tomb;

Curst from his cradle, and brought up to

Life! we've been long together,

Through pleasant and through cloudy

weather;

'Tis hard to part when friends are dearPerhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear;

-Then steal away, give little warning, Choose thine own time;

Say not Good-Night, but in some brighter clime

Bid me Good-Morning.

ANNA LETITIA BARBauld.

MY PSALM.

I MOURN no more my vanish'd years:
Beneath a tender rain,

An April rain of smiles and tears,
My heart is young again.

The west winds blow, and, singing low,
I hear the glad streams run;
The windows of my soul I throw
Wide open to the sun.

No longer forward nor behind
I look in hope or fear;
But, grateful, take the good I find,
The best of now and here.

I plough no more a desert land,
To harvest weed and tare;
The manna dropping from God's hand
Rebukes my painful care.

I break my pilgrim staff,-I lay
Aside the toiling oar;

The angel sought so far away
I welcome at my door.

The airs of spring may never play
Among the ripening corn,
Nor freshness of the flowers of May
Blow through the autumn morn;

Yet shall the blue-eyed gentian look Through fringèd lids to heaven, And the pale aster in the brook Shall see its image given ;—

That all the jarring notes of life

Seem blending in a psalm,
And all the angles of its strife
Slow rounding into calm.

And so the shadows fall apart,
And so the west winds play;
And all the windows of my heart
I open to the day.

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.

SONNET.

The south wind softly sigh, And sweet, calm days, in golden haze Melt down the amber sky.

Not less shall manly deed and word
Rebuke an age of wrong;

The graven flowers that wreathe the sword

Make not the blade less strong.

But smiting hands shall learn to heal,-
To build as to destroy;

Nor less my heart for others feel
That I the more enjoy.

All as God wills, who wisely heeds
To give or to withhold,
And knoweth more of all my needs
Than all my prayers have told!

Encgh that blessings undeserved

Have mark'd my erring track;That wheresoe'er my feet have swerved, His chastening turn'd me back ;—

That more and more a Providence

Of love is understood, Making the springs of time and sense Sweet with eternal good ;

That death seems but a cover'd way

Which opens into light, Wherein no blinded child can stray Beyond the Father's sight;

That care and trial seem at last, Through Memory's sunset air, Like mountain-ranges overpast, In purple distance fair;—

Crumbling away beneath our very feet; Sad is our life, for onward it is flowing

In current unperceived, because so fleet; Sad are our hopes, for they were sweet in sowing

But tares, self-sown, have overtopp'd the

wheat;

Sad are our joys, for they were sweet in blowing

And still, oh still, their dying breath is

sweet;

And sweet is youth, although it hath bereft us

Of that which made our childhood

sweeter still;

And sweet is middle life, for it hath left us
A nearer good to cure an older ill;
And sweet are all things, when we learn to
prize them

Not for their sake, but His who grants them or denies them!

AUBREY De Vere

THE STREAM OF LIFE.

O STREAM descending to the sea,
Thy mossy banks between,
The flow'rets blow, the grasses grow,
The leafy trees are green.

In garden-plots the children play,
The fields the laborers till,
And houses stand on either hand,
And thou descendest still.

O life descending into death,
Our waking eyes behold
Parent and friend thy lapse attend,
Companions young and old.