See Heaven its sparkling portals wide display,
And break upon thee in a flood of day.

No more the rising sun shall gild the morn,
Nor evening Cynthia fill her silver horn;
But lost, dissolved in thy superior rays,
One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze
O'erflow thy courts; the Light Himself shall shine
Revealed, and God's eternal day be thine!

The seas shall waste, the skies in smoke decay,
Rocks fall to dust, and mountains melt away;
But fixed His word, His saving power remains;
Thy realm forever lasts, thy own Messiah reigns.

WHEN YOUR FLESH DISSOLVES TO DUST.

THOMAS KEN.

"And I say unto you, That many shall come from the east and west, and shall sit down with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom of heaven."

OUL, when your flesh dissolves to dust,

To God's safe Hands yourself entrust;

Be not too curious to inquire,

Where to aspire;

Whether to Paradise you fly,

Or in bless'd Abraham's bosom lie,
Or to that orb your flight you raise

Where Enoch stays;

Or to the third celestial sphere,

Where wonders Paul was rapt to hear,
Or Hades bless'd where souls elect

Full bliss expect.

Secure your Love while here below,
And dying you'll to Jesus go;
Paul long'd loved Jesus' face to view,
For that long you.

Bless'd Jesus' boundless bliss Divine
In you in miniature will shine,
Glory for glory, beam for beam.

Will on you stream.

A crown, a throne at God's right Hand, Where Saints their robes of ray expand, Where Saints are kings, and on their state High Angels wait.

Such blessings on the Saints attend,
When Jesus-like they Heaven ascend,
The Lamb, of joys the boundless spring,
They'll ever sing.

Death our forerunner is, and guides
To Sion, where the Lamb abides,
There Saints enjoy ecstatic rest

In mansions blest.

Death, I well know, that every day
Wise Providence appoints your way,
Your thirst for blood would slay mankind,

If not confined.

I long to reach the Lamb's dear sight,
Be sure to hit my vitals right,

Lest life half left prolongs my days.

And bliss delays.

OH, WITH WHAT CONGRATULATIONS.

H, with what congratulations.

Throng thy gates the festive nations;
What the warmth of their embracing!
What the gems thy wall enchasing!
Through that city's streets are wending
Holy throngs, their anthems blending.
There may I, with myriads glorious,
Chant thy praise in psalms victorious.

CLAD IN GARMENTS RADIANT WHITE.

W

ARCHIBALD EDMONSTONE,

HO is it clad in garments radiant white,

Love on her breastplate graven, on her brow Salvation diademed? Above, below,

Ten thousand thousand Spirits wing their flight,
A shining company. With glory bright

The army of Martyrs circle, which through woe
And peril, pain, and death, dared face the foe,
Bearing their palms, with victor-chaplets dight.

In mild but awful majesty, to meet

The Bride comes forth the Bridegroom, in the skies Enthroning on her everlasting seat.

From myriad Voices shouts of triumph rise: "Her warfare is accomplished; at her feet Fallen is the captive's chain-the conqueror prostrate lies!""

GOD KEEPS A NICHE IN HEAVEN.

From Sonnets, by ELIZABETH BARRETT BRowning.

AND O beloved voices, upon which

Ours passionately call, because ere long

Ye brake off in the middle of that song

We sang together softly, to enrich

The poor world with the sense of love and with
The heart out of things evil,-I am strong,
Knowing ye are not lost for aye among

The hills, with last year's thrush. God keeps a niche
In Heaven, to hold our idols: and albeit

He brake them to our faces, and denied

That our close kisses should impair their white,-
I know we shall behold them raised, complete,
The dust swept from their beauty,—glorified
New Memnons singing in the great God-light.

OH, GIVE THEM AGAIN TO ME.

MARIANNE FARNINGHAM.

"Father, I will that they also whom thou hast given me may be with me where

I

I am."

AM pressing on to the slippery shore

With my sore and weary feet,

But a little while and I hope to stand

At the edge of the Golden street.

But I pray this prayer from amid the deep—

O Saviour of sinners, bring

Those whom I love to abide with me

In the presence of the King.

There are warm young hearts in the household band; There are brightly beaming eyes;

There are voices sweet that I fain would hear

'Mid the anthems of the skies:

Thou knowest, O Jesus, how closely here

The bonds of love entwine;

I count them o'er in the gloaming hour,
And remember these words of Thine.

There are trembling fingers and silvery hairs,
And eyes that are growing dim,

And voices less strong than in days of yore,
Swelling the evening hymn.