The tears shall be wiped from our eyes
When Thee we behold in the cloud,
And echo the joys of the skies,

And shout to the trumpet of God.

WILL ANY BE WATCHING FOR ME?

From Poems of Home Life.

WHEN mysterious whispers are floating about,
And voices that will not be still

Shall summon me hence from the slippery shore
To the waves that are silent and still;

When I look with changed eyes at the home of the blest,

Far out of the reach of the sea,

Will any one stand at that beautiful gate

Waiting and watching for me?

There are friendless and suffering strangers around,
There are tempted and poor I must meet;

There are dear ones at home I may bless with my love,
There are wretched ones pacing the street;
There are many unthought of, whom, happy and blest
In the land of the good I shall see:
Will any of these at the beautiful gate
Be waiting and watching for me?

There are old and forsaken, who linger awhile
In the homes which their dearest have left,
And an action of love and a few gentle words
Might cheer the sad spirit bereft ;

But the reaper is near to the long-standing corn,
The weary shall soon be set free;
Will any of these at the beautiful gate

Be waiting and watching for me?

There are little ones glancing about on my path
In need of a friend or a guide;

There are dim little eyes looking up into mine,
Whose tears could be easily dried;

But Jesus may beckon the children away
In the midst of their grief or their glee:
Will any of them at the beautiful gate
Be watching and waiting for me?

I

may

be brought there by the manifold grace Of the Saviour who loved to forgive,

Though I bless not the hungry ones near to my side, Only pray for myself while I live;

But I think I should mourn o'er my selfish neglect,
If sorrow in heaven can be,

If no one should stand at that beautiful gate
Waiting and watching for me!

GIVE ME THE WINGS OF FAITH.

G

ISAAC WATTS.

IVE me the wings of faith to rise
Within the veil, and see

The saints above, how great their joys,
How bright their glories be.

Once they were mourning here below,
And bathed their couch with tears;
They wrestled hard, as we do now,
With sins, and doubts, and fears.

I ask them whence their victory came;
They, with united breath,

Ascribe their conquest to the Lamb,
Their triumph to His death.

They marked the footsteps that He trod;
His zeal inspired their breast;
And, following their incarnate God,
Possessed the promised rest.

Our glorious Leader claims our praise,
For His own pattern given;
While the long cloud of witnesses
Show the same path to heaven.

'M

LAMBS OF THE UPPER FOLD.

ID the pastures green of the blesséd isles,
Where never is heat or cold,

Where the light of life is the Shepherd's smile,
Are the lambs of the Upper Fold.

Where the lilies blossom in fadeless spring,
And never a heart grows old,

Where the glad new song is the song they sing,
Are the lambs of the Upper Fold.

There are tiny mounds where the hopes of earth, Were laid 'neath the tear-wet mould,

But the light that paled at the stricken hearth,

Was joy to the Upper Fold:

Oh, the white stone beareth a new name now,
That never on earth was told,

And the tender Shepherd doth guard with care
The lambs of the Upper Fold,

FATHER, I LONG, I FAINT.

ISAAC WATTS.

ATHER, I long, I faint to see
The place of thine abode;

I'd leave Thy earthly courts and flee
Up to Thy seat, my God!

Here I behold Thy distant face,

And 'tis a pleasing sight;
But to abide in Thine embrace
Is infinite delight.

I'd part with all the joys of sense
To gaze upon Thy throne;
Pleasure springs fresh forever thence,
Unspeakable, unknown.

There all the heavenly hosts are seen,
In shining ranks they move,
And drink immortal vigor in
With wonder and with love.

There at thy feet with awful fear

The adoring armies fall;

With joy they shrink to nothing there,
Before the eternal All.

The more Thy glories strike my eyes,
The humbler I shall lie;

Thus, while I sink, my joys shall rise
Unmeasurably high.

OUR EVERLASTING PORTION.

THOMAS H. GILL.

"Whom have I in Heaven but Thee, and whom on earth do I desire in comparison with Thee?"

I

HAIL you not, Mansions Divine,

Because ye are peaceful and fair;
Your builder, your Master is mine;
My Father, my Saviour is there.
I cleave not to you, angels bright,
But to Him who filleth the throne;
In Thee, Lord, in Thee I delight,
Thou, Thou art mine All, art mine own.

Yes, Lover Divine, Thou art loved,
Yes Lord of my heart, Thou art dear;
Even now this cold bosom is moved;
Thy presence is sweet even here;
Still, still through the long mortal years
Thou makest with me Thine abode
And still this dark Valley of Tears
So bright with the smile of my God.