And pitch'd in most mysterious unison That heard in childhood, haunts our riper years, A HOME IN HEAVEN. A WILLIAM HUNTER. HOME in Heaven! what a joyful thought, As the poor man toils in his weary lot! His heart opprest, and with anguish driven, From his home below, to his home in heaven. A home in Heaven! as the sufferer lies A home in Heaven! when our pleasures fade, A home in Heaven! when the faint heart bleeds, HEAVEN IN SONG. A home in heaven! when our friends are fled We will meet up there in our home in heaven. A home in heaven! when the wheel is broke, Our home in heaven! oh, the glorious homé ! INVITATIONS FROM HEAVEN. COME to the land of peace! COM Come where the tempest hath no longer sway, The shadow passes from the soul away, The sounds of weeping cease! Fear hath no dwelling there! Come to the mingling of repose and love, Come to the bright and blest, And crowned forever-'midst the shining band, Thou hast been long alone; Come to thy mother! on the Sabbath shore, The heart that rocked thy childhood back once more Shall take its wearied one. In silence wert thou left, Come to thy sisters!-joyously again All the home-voices, blest in one sweet strain, Over thine orphan head The storm hath swept, as o'er a willow's bough; Thy tears have all been shed. In thy divine abode Change finds no pathway, memory no dark trace; And, O, bright victory!-death by love no place! Come, spirit, to thy God! MINISTER'S WELCOME TO HEAVEN. EDWARD H. BICKERSTETH. N amaze IN I asked what meant such gratulation there, And one of many answered, "From thy mouth We heard of Jesus' love, and thine the hand That led us to His feet." It was enough; For all the Parent and the Pastor woke Within me all the holy memories Of bygone days flowed in a refluent tide Over my soul once more. Some I had known Some I had shepherded, yea, many. And And others, dying, heard me read of him Who on the cross for mercy cried to Christ; MY PLACE IN HEAVEN. MY JOHN MASON. Y Jesus is gone up to heaven For 'tis His will, that, where He is, Canaan I view from Pisgah's top, I have a God that changeth not: My God, that owns me in this world, Go fearless then, my soul, with God. Thou who hast walkéd with Him here My dearest friends they dwell above; And all my friends in Christ below I NO STRANGER IN HEAVEN. EDWARD H. BICKERSTETH. WAS no stranger in a strange land there: But rather as one who travel-worn and weary, Weary of wandering through many climes, At length returning homeward, eyes far off Leaps on the pier, while round him crowding press |