I hear the invitation,

And fain would rise and come,—

A sinner to salvation;

An exile to his home:

But while I here must linger,
Thus, thus, let all I see
Point on, with faithful finger,

To Heaven, O Lord, and Thee.

STANDING ON THE HEADLANDS.

From Leaves Gathered.

ONG in this wild, wild country,
Where rue and nightshade grow,
Where waters black and bitter,
All fairest meads o'erflow.

Where from the heart all broken
Floats forth a wailing cry;
And days are dark and dreary,
And years drift sadly by.

Where skies are grey and stormy;
And mountains bleak and cold

Look down on wintry ocean,

On barren heath and wold.

Long, in this sinful country,
I've wandered poor and lone;

To every illness subject,

To every weakness prone.

Now, standing on the headlands,
I greet the coming dawn;
Mine eyes drink in the glory
Of the approaching morn.

I see my dear loved Saviour,
Clad in the purest white,-
And sky and earth and headland
Are bathed in golden light.

This earth is fading from me,

No more the wild winds sigh; No more the days, all dreary, Go drifting sadly by.

But, watching my Lord's coming,
With loving, trusting faith,
I fold my hands-so weary—
And calmly wait-for death.

O blessed, blessed country!
No pains, nor bitter tears;
No fainting 'neath the burden,
No doubts-no cruel fears.

O bright, unchanging glory!
O radiant array!

O sweet and dream-like music!

O cloudless, endless day!

O WHAT A GLAD ASCENDING.

HORATIUS BONAR.

I

LOVE yon pale blue sky; it is the floor
Of that glad home where I shall shortly be;
A home from which I shall go out no more;
From toil and grief and vanity set free.

I

gaze upon yon everlasting arch,

Up which the bright stars wander, as they shine; And as I mark them in their nightly march, I think how soon that journey shall be mine!

Yon silver drift of silent cloud, far up

In the still heaven-through you my pathway lies; Yon rugged mountain-peak-how soon your top Shall I behold beneath me, as I rise!

Not many more of life's slow-pacing hours,
Shaded with sorrow's melancholy hue;-
Oh, what a glad ascending shall be ours,
Oh, what a pathway up yon starry blue!

A journey like Elijah's, swift and bright,

Caught gently upward to an early crown,
In heaven's own chariot of unblazing light,
With death untasted and the grave unknown!

UP TO THAT WORLD OF LIGHT.

"Then face to face."

WHEN shall we meet again,

W

Meet ne'er to sever?

When will Peace wreathe her chain

Round us forever?

Our hearts will ne'er repose

Safe from each blast that blows,

In this dark vale of woes,

When shall love freely flow
Pure as Life's river?.
When shall sweet friendship glow,

Changeless forever?

Where joys celestial thrill,

Where bliss each heart shall fill,

And fears of parting chill

WHEN I AM OVER JORDAN.

ANONYMOUS.

Τ

OSSED on the billows far and wide,
And struggling 'gainst a whelming tide,

When shall I to the haven come,

And moor my bark, and see my home?
When I am over Jordan!

When shall I see my sins all slain?
When shall I see my Saviour reign
Victorious o'er these fears of mine,
Which dare His boundless love confine?
When I am over Jordan!

When shall I see Him face to face,
And find a blessed resting-place?
And hide me where His people hide,
Who have been washed and purified?
When I am over Jordan!

When shall my falt'ring tongue confess
The wonders of His righteousness?
And sing the song the ransomed raise,
Dearer than angels' loftiest praise?
When I am over Jordan!