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FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN.

Written by NICOLL on his death-bed.

HE dew is on the summer's greenest grass,
Through which the modest daisy blushing peeps

The gentle wind that like a ghost doth pass,

A waving shadow on the corn-field keeps ;
But I who love them all shall never be
Again among the woods, or on the woodland lea!

The sun shines sweetly-sweeter may it shine!—
Blessed is the brightness of a summer day!
It cheers lone hearts; and why should I repine,
Although among green fields I cannot stray?
Woods! I have grown, since last I heard you wave,
Familiar with death, and neighbor of the grave.

These words have shaken mighty human souls-
Like a sepulcher's echo drear they sound-
E'en as the owl's wild whoop at midnight rolls
The ivied remnants of old ruins round.

Yet wherefore tremble? Can the soul decay?
Or that which thinks and feels in aught e'er fade away?

Are there not aspirations in each heart

After a better, brighter world than this? Longings for beings nobler in each part— Things more exalted-steeped in deeper bliss? Who gave us these? What are they? Soul, in thee The bud is budding now for immortality.

Death comes to bear me where I long to be;

One pang, and bright blooms the immortal flower; Death comes to lead me from mortality,

To lands which know not one unhappy hour;

I have a hope, a faith-from sorrow here

I'm led by death away-why should I start and fear?

If I have loved the forest and the field,

Can I not love them deeper, better there? If all that Power hath made to me doth yield Something of good and beauty-something fairFreed from the grossness of mortality,

May I not love them all, and better all enjoy?

A change from woe to joy-from earth to heaven,
Death gives me this-it leads me calmly where
The souls that long ago from mine were riven

May meet again! Death answers many a prayer.
Bright day, shine on! be glad: days brighter far
Are stretched before mine eyes than those of mortals
are !

PERMIT MINE EYES TO SEE.

ROBERT HERRICK.

ERMIT mine eyes to see

PER

Part or the whole of thee

O happy place!

Where all have grace

And garlands shar'd

For their reward;

Where each chaste soul
In long white stole
And palms in hand
Do ravisht stand:
So in a ring

The praises sing

Of Three in One

That fills the throne:

While harps and viols then
To voices say, Amen.

O HEAVEN, SWEET HEAVEN!

EDWIN H. NEVIN.

HEAVEN! Sweet Heaven! the home of the
blest,

Where hearts once in trouble are ever at rest;
Where eyes that could see not rejoice in the light,
And beggars made princes are walking in white.

O Heaven! Sweet Heaven! the mansion of love,
Where Christ in His beauty shines forth from above,
The Lamb with His sceptre, to charm and control,
And love is the sea that encircles the whole.

O Heaven! Sweet Heaven! where purity reigns,
Nor error disturbs, nor sin ever stains;
Where holiness robes in its garments so fair
The great multitude that is worshipping there.

O Heaven! Sweet Heaven! where music ne'er dies, But rich pealing anthems of glory arise;

Where saints with one feeling of rapture are stirred,
And loud hallelujahs forever are heard.

O Heaven! Sweet Heaven! where friends never part,
But cords of true friendship bind firmly the heart;
Where farewell shall nevermore fall on the ear,
Nor eyes that have sorrowed be dimmed with a tear.

A

O WERE I THERE!

MR. FRELINGHAUSEN.-(1704.)

H, never then

Her light again

Jerusalem shall miss ;

For the Lamb shall be her light,
Filling her with bliss.

Oh were I there!

Where all the air

With lovely sounds are ringing;

Where the saints, Thee, Holy Lord,

Evermore are singing.

Lord Jesus, Thou

My rest art now.

O help me that I come

Radiant with Thy light to shine

In Thy glorious home.

DEATH AN ENTRANCE TO HEAVEN.

Ascribed to FRANCIS TAYLOR.

O LONG to be installed in the throne
Of endless glory; let thy spirit groan
After a full and plenary possession

Of blessedness transcending all expression.
Be like the bird of Paradise, which (they say)
Being entangled in the snare, straightway
Begins to strive, and never giveth o'er
Till she enjoy her freedom as before.

Sing Simeon's swan-like song at his decease-
"Lord, let Thy servant now depart in peace."
Welcome the messenger of death, which brings
Most joyful tidings from the King of kings;
Which tells the saints of an approaching crown
Of matchless glory, honor, and renown.
Death is the chariot, which without delay,
Saints to their Father's house bears swift away.
Death is, to humble penitents, no less
Than a short entrance into happiness.
Death is the saints' ascension, day of bliss,
Their marriage-day with Jesus Christ it is.
Death is the charter of their liberty,
The period of their pain and misery:
Death gives them an immunity from sin,

And frees them from the fears they once were in.