When upon my wearied ear

Earth's last echoes faintly die,
Then shall angel-harps draw near,—
All the chorus of the sky;
Long-hushed voices blend again
Sweetly in that welcome strain !

Here, were sweet and varied tones-
Bird, and breeze, and fountain's fall;
Yet creation's travail-groans

Ever sadly sighed through all. There no discord jars the airHarmony is perfect There!

When this aching heart shall rest,

All its busy pulses o'er,

From her mortal robes undrest

Shall my spirit upward soar. Then shall unimagined joy

All my thoughts and powers employ.

Here, devotion's healing balm,

Often comes to soothe my breast.
Hours of deep and holy calm-
Earnests of eternal rest.

But the bliss is here unknown,
Which shall There be all my own!

Jesus reigns, the Life, the Sun

Of that wondrous world above;
All the storms and clouds are gone,
All is light, and all is love;
All the shadows melt away
In the blaze of perfect day!

THE DWELLING-PLACE ABOVE.

ΤΗ

BISHOP MANT.

HERE is a dwelling-place above;
Thither, to meet the God of love,
The poor in spirit go;

There is a paradise of rest;

For contrite hearts and souls distrest
Its streams of comfort flow.

There is a goodly heritage,

Where earthly passions cease to rage;
The meek that haven gain.
There is a board, where they who pine,
Hungry, athirst, for grace divine,
May feast, nor crave again.

There is a voice to mercy true;
To them who mercy's path pursue
That voice shall bliss impart—
There is a sight from man concealed,
That sight-the face of God revealed—
Shall bless the pure in heart.

There is a name, in Heaven bestowed,
That name, which hails them "Sons of God."
The friends of peace shall know:

There is a kingdom in the sky,

Where they shall reign with God on high,

Who serve him best below.

Lord, be mine like them to choose
The better part,-like them to use
The means Thy love hath given.
Be holiness my aim on earth,
That Death be welcome as a birth
To life and bliss in Heaven!

THE GOODLY LAND.

Mrs. ANNE Steele.

FA

AR from these narrow scenes of night
Unbounded glories rise,

And realms of infinite delight,

Unknown to mortal eyes.

Far distant land! could mortal eyes
But half its joys explore,

How would our spirits long to rise
And dwell on earth no more!

There, pain and sickness never come, And grief no more complains; Health triumphs in immortal bloom— And endless pleasure reigns.

From discord free, and war's alarms,
And want, and pining care,
Plenty and peace, unite their charms,
And smile unchanging There.

There, rich varieties of joy,

Continual feast the mind;
Pleasures which fill, but never cloy-
Immortal and refined!

No factious strife, no envy there,
The sons of peace molest;
But harmony, and love sincere
Fill every happy breast.

No clouds those blissful regions know,
Forever bright and fair!

For sin, the source of mortal woe,
Can never enter There.

There, no alternate night is known,
Nor sun's faint sickly ray;
But glory, from the Sacred Throne
Spreads everlasting day.

The glorious Monarch There displays
His beams of wondrous grace;
His happy subjects sing His praise,
And bow before His face.

Oh, may the heavenly prospect fire
Our hearts with ardent love,
Till wings of faith and strong desire
Bear every thought above.

Prepare us, Lord, by grace divine,
For Thy bright courts on high;
Then bid our spirits rise and join,
The chorus of the sky!

NATURE OF HEAVEN.

YON BRIGHT WONDER-LAND.

From Schiller, by A. C KENDRICK.

ROM this vale, with mists hung over,
With eternal storms oppressed,

FROM this vale, with

Could I but a path discover,

Ah, how deeply were I blest!

Clothed in bloom that ne'er shall wither,

Yonder hills allure my eye;
Give me wings, and quickly thither,
O, how quickly would I fly!

There melodious murmurs ringing,
Breathe a deep, a heavenly calm;
And the gentle winds are winging
Richest spices' fragrant balm.
Fruits of golden hue are glowing,

Which the dark green leaves embower; And the flowers that there are blowing Feel no iron Winter's power.

O, how sweet to dwell and wander
Where the sun-light gushes free!
Balmy airs that wanton yonder,

O, how soothing must they be!
But before that wondrous dwelling
Doth this angry torrent roll;
And, in wrathful surges swelling,
Spreads dismay through all my soul.