While holy saints are singing

Hosannas o'er and o'er,
Pure hallelujahs ringing

Around me evermore.

Innumerous choirs before the shining throne
Their joyful anthems raise,

Till heaven's glad halls are echoing with the tone

Of that great hymn of praise;

And all its host rejoices,

And all its blessed throng

Unite their myriad voices
In one eternal song.

BEYOND THE HILLS WHERE SUNS GO DOWN.

HORATIUS BONAR.

EYOND the hills where suns go down,

And brightly beckon as they go,

I see the land of fair renown,

The land which I so soon shall know.

Above the dissonance of time,

And discord of its angry words,

I hear the everlasting chime,
The music of unjarring chords.

I bid it welcome, and my haste
To join it cannot brook delay;
Oh song of morning, come at last,
And ye who sing it, come away!

Oh song of light, and dawn, and bliss,
Sound over earth, and fill these skies;
Nor ever, ever, ever cease

Thy soul-entrancing melodies ;

Glad song of this disburdened earth,
Which holy voices then shall sing,
Praise for creation's second birth,
And glory to creation's King.

O CHRIST, HOW GOOD AND FAIR.

From the German of PAUL GERHARDt.

CHRIST, how good and fair

Will be my portion where

Thine eyes on me shall rest,
And make me fully blest,
When from this narrow earth
To Thee I shall spring forth!

What joy, unmixed and full,
Thou Treasure of the soul,
When, in that home above,
Thy heart speaks out its love
To all made one with Thee,
My brothers, Lord, and me!

What glorious light will shine
Forth from Thy face divine,
Which in that life untold

Then first I shall behold!

How will Thy goodness free

Fill me with ecstasy!

Lips, whence such words have streamed, Eyes, whence such pity beamed,

Side, wounded once for me,

All, all I then shall see;

With reverent rapture greet
Thy pierced hands and feet!

Ah, Jesus, my "good part,"
How will my mind and heart
Vibrate with rapture through,
And all my soul grow new,
When Thou, with smiles of love,
Openest those gates above!

"Come," thou wilt say, " blest child,
Taste pleasures undefiled,
And see the gifts, how fair,
My Father's hands prepare;
Pasture thine heart forever
In joy that fadeth never."

O thou poor, passing earth!
What are thy treasures worth
Beside those heavenly crowns,
And more than golden thrones,
Which Christ hath treasured there
For those who please Him here?

This is the angels' land,

Where all the blessed stand;
Here I hear nought but singing,
See all with gladness springing;
Here is no cross, no sorrow,
No parting on the morrow.

When shall that joy begin?
When wilt Thou call me in?
Thou knowest; but my feet
Press onward Thee to meet;
And my heart, day by day,
Bears me to Thee away.

O, I HAVE HEARD HIS VOICE.

T1

CHARLOTTE ELLIOTT.

HERE are refreshments sweeter far than sleep,
Though its soft power

Might gladly close the vigils I now keep

From hour to hour,

And hush these vain imaginings to rest,
Which silence in my heart its dearest guest.

Oh, I have heard his voice, his voice of love,
In the still night,

Sweet as the songs from seraph hearts above,
Tranced in delight!

It haunts my memory, lives within my heart,
And makes me long, yea, languish to depart.

Those who have heard it once can ne'er forget
That voice divine;

With it compared, earth's accents are not sweet.
My God, I pine

A dweller in those palaces to be,
Where I shall hear it through eternity.

Then I shall ne'er be harassed by the din
Of earthly thought;

All will be holy and serene within;
My spirit, fraught

With deepest reverence, with intense desire,
Will listen to that voice, and never tire.

MY SOUL IS LIKE SOME FLUTTERED DOVE.

ROBERT C. CHAPMAN.

Y soul, amid this stormy world,

MY

Is like some fluttered dove,

And fain would be as swift of wing,

To flee to Him I love.

The cords that bound my heart to earth

Are broken by His hand;

Before His cross I found myself,

A stranger in the land.

That visage marred, those sorrows deep,

The vinegar and gall,

Were Jesus' golden chains of love,

His captive to enthrall.