There I behold, with sweet delight,
The blessed Three in One;
And strong affections fix my sight
On God's incarnate Son.

His promise stands forever firm;
His grace shall ne'er depart :
He binds my name upon his arm,
And seals it on his heart.

Light are the pains that Nature brings:
How short our sorrows are,
When, with eternal, future things,
The present we compare!

I would not be a stranger still
To that celestial place,
Where I forever hope to dwell
Near my Redeemer's face.

COME UP HITHER.

EDWIN H. NEVIN.

"COME up hither, come away,

Thus the ransomed spirits sing:

Here is cloudless, endless day;

Here is everlasting Spring.

Come up hither; come and dwell
With the living hosts above:
Come, and let your bosoms swell
With their burning songs of love.

Come up hither; come and share
In the sacred joys that rise,
Like an ocean, everywhere
Through the myriads of the skies.

Come up hither; come and shine
In the robes of spotless white.
Palms and harps and crowns are thine :
Hither, hither, wing your flight!

Come up hither, hither speed:
Rest is found in heaven alone.

Here is all the wealth you need :

Come, and make this wealth your own.

HEARTS UNITED.

ALBERT LAaighton.

"That They may be One, even as We are One."

HIS world is bright and fair, we know:
The skies are arched in glory;

The stars shine on, the sweet flowers blow,
And tell their blessed story.

But softer than the summer's breath,

And fairer than its roses,

Will be the clime afar, when Death
The pearly gate uncloses,—

The land where broken ties shall twine,
And fond hearts will not sever,

Where love's pure light shall brighter shine,
Forever and forever.

OUR ABIDING CITY.

JOHN KELLY.

"This may distress the worldly mind;

E'VE no abiding city here."

But should not cost the saint a tear,
Who hopes a better rest to find.

"We've no abiding city here,"

Sad truth, were this to be our home; But let this thought our spirits cheer, "We seek a city yet to come."

"We've no abiding city here,"

We seek a city out of sight:
Zion its name, the Lord is there,
It shines with everlasting light.

O sweet abode of peace and love,
Where pilgrims freed from toil are blest,—
Had I the pinions of the dove,

I'd fly to thee and be at rest.

HASTENING HOME.

JOHN BURTON.

"How short my time is!"

TIME is winging us away

To our eternal home:

Life is but a winter's day,-
A journey to the tomb.
Youth and vigor soon will flee,

Blooming beauty lose its charms: All that's mortal soon shall be Enclosed in Death's cold arms.

Time is winging us away
To our eternal home:
Life is but a winter's day,—
A journey to the tomb.
But the Christian shall enjoy
Health and beauty soon above;
Far beyond the world's alloy,
Secure in Jesus' love.

THE DISTANT SHORE.

From Fraser's Magazine.

"The land that is very far off."

U

pon the shore

Of Evermore,

We sport, like children at their play; And gather shells

Where sinks and swells

The mighty sea from far away.

Upon that beach,

Nor voice nor speech

Doth things intelligible say;

But through our souls

A whisper rolls,

That comes to us from far away.

Into our ears

The voice of years
Comes deeper, deeper, day by day :
We stoop to hear,

As it draws near,
Its awfulness from far away.

At what it tells,

We drop the shells

We were so fond of yesterday;

And pick no more

Upon that shore,

But dream of brighter, far away.