So in the churchyard she was laid;
And all the summer dry,

Together round her grave we play'd,
My brother John and I.

And when the ground was white with snow,
And I could run and slide,
My brother John was forced to go,
And he lies by her side."

"How many are you, then," said I,
If those two are in heaven?"

The little maid still did reply,,

66

Oh, master, we are seven.'

"But two are dead, their spirits fled,
AND NOW AT REST IN HEAVEN;"
'Twas throwing words away, for still
The little maid would have her will,
And said, "Nay, we are seven."

"SOME DAY.”

[Earnest and cheerful.]

There's an old, old song which with varied strain
Through the human heart is singing,
Now gay and glad, with a loud refrain,
Now low and sad, with a throb of pain
Through its pulsing measures ringing.
The child with his sunny curls aglow,
His sweet brown eyes upturning
To mine, says, "Mamma, I'm tired of play,
And will I not be a man SOME DAY?"
Ah, human heart's old yearning!

Tired, so soon of the greening earth,

Of the wild bird's joyous measure;

Tired, of the flowers and shimmering leaves,
Yes, tired of even more than these,
Tired, happy child, of pleasure!

"SOME DAY!" ah, earnest, questioning eyes,
Ah, sweet brown eyes so tender,
Soon, too soon, will life's toil and care
Silver the sunny, clustering hair,

And dim the dark eye's splendour.

Haply you will look back and smile,
To think of the old, deep yearning
Of careless childhood, for manhood's day,
For the unknown dangers of untrod way-
Of the road which knows no turning.
NO TURNING, and yet as I did to-night,
Through the shade and gloom of even,
You may see the end of the weary way,
You may recognise the sweet "SOME DAY
IN OUR FATHERS' HOME IN HEAVEN.

And the old, old song which with varied strain
Through the human heart is ringing,
With these fleshly robes will be laid down,
Forgot, as we wear the ransomed crown,
AND JOIN IN THE ANGELS' SINGING!

THE CHRISTMAS TREE.

[For a little child, cheerfully and with earnestness.] IF I've a present upon the tree,

I'll tell you all what I HOPE it will be.
I want a kite that knows how to fly,
And a string that will let it go very high.
And then, as firm as firm can be,

A seat on the top that will just suit me:
And then the dear old kite and I

WILL START AWAY, AND BEGIN TO FLY.

We'll sail away on the gentle breeze,
Over the houses, and over the trees,

Over the clouds, and on and on,

TILL WE PASS THE STARS, AND MOON, AND SUN.

AND WHAT, DO YOU THINK, would Jesus say,
To see me coming to HEAVEN that way?
I think he would call me, and ask me why;
And I'ld tell him I didn't want to die.

"LEARN YOUR LESSONS FIRST!" [Cheerful, and vigorous.]

"Where's Heaven, mamma?" said a little girl, With cheeks a-glow, and hair a-curl. "Heaven is above, where Jesus lives,

And mansions fair, that Jesus gives.'

"But tell me, where is Heaven, mamma?
You say that it is very far;

How can I go there when I die?
How can I ever mount so high?"
"Heaven is with Jesus, Katy Bell;
But how we get there none can tell."
"What is it like, then, mamma dear?
Shall I be happy there as here?"
"Heaven is, my darling, very fair;
No clouds or darkness enter there.
When there we never sin again,
Are never sick, and feel no pain."
"THEN I WILL GO," said little Kate;
66 I'LL START TO-DAY, I CANNOT WAIT!"
"My little Kate, you cannot go

Until you're ready-DON'T YOU KNOW?
"Your lessons are not learned, my dear:
We have to learn our lessons here."
"Yes I know what you mean, mamma:
I must obey you and papa.

"WHEN I HAVE LEARNED TO DO IT WELL,
THEN I SHALL GO TO HEAVEN TO DWELL.
And Katy tries, each day she lives,

To learn the lessons Jesus gives.

A VOICE FROM HEAVEN.

[Earnest and cheerful.]

I shine in the light of God,

His likeness stamps my brow;

Through the shadows of death my feet have trods

AND I REIGN IN GLORY NOW:

No breaking heart is here,

No keen and thrilling pain,

No wasted cheek where the frequent tear
Hath rolled and left its stain.

I HAVE FOUND THE JOY OF HEAVEN,
I am one of its saintly band,
To my head a crown of gold is given,
And a harp is in my hand.

I have learned the song they sing,
Whom JESUS hath set free,

And the glorious vaults of heaven ring
With my new-born melody.

No sin, no grief, no pain,

SAFE IN MY HAPPY HOME,

My fears are fled, my doubts all plain,
MY HOUR OF TRIUMPH COME.

OH! friends of mortal years,

The trusted and the true,

Ye are walking still in the vale of tears,
But I wait to welcome you.

Do I forget-OH, NO!

For memory's golden chain

Shall bind my heart to the hearts below,
Till they meet and touch again :
Each link is strong and bright,

And love's electric flame

Darts swiftly down like a beam of light
To the world from whence I came.

Do you mourn when another star
Shines out from the glittering sky?
Do you weep when the raging voice of var
And the storms of conflict die?

Then why should your tears run down,

And your heart be sorely riven,

FOR ANOTHER GEM IN THE SAVIOUR'S CROWN, AND ANOTHER SOUL IN HEAVEN.

WHITE ROBES.

[Earnest and serious.]

Who are they in Heaven who stand,
Clothed in white, at God's right hand?
In their robes so fair and bright,

They are shining like the light.

Harps of gold and palms they bear;

All are GOOD and HAPPY there;

Much I wonder what their name,

WHO THEY are, and WHENCE THEY came.

They who now are praising God

Once the path of sorrow trod;

Now, by Christ their Saviour led,

CROWNS OF JOY ARE ON THEIR HEAD.

They shall never weep again,
Never know a grief or pain:

ALL IS BRIGHT AND SHINING DAY;

God has wiped their tears away.

MAY I WITH THEM ALSO STAND,

ROBED IN WHITE, AT GOD'S RIGHT HAND,
AND WITH JOY FOR EVER SING
PRAISES TO OUR GOD AND KING.

LITTLE LUCY.

[Earnest and cheerful.]

A little child, six summers old-
So thoughtful and so fair,
There seemed about her pleasant ways
A more than childish air-
Was sitting on a summer eve
Beneath a spreading tree,
Intend upon an ancient book
Which lay upon her knee.

She turned each page with careful hand,
And strained her sight to see;
Until the drowsy shadows slept

Upon the grassy lea;

Then closed the book, and upward looked,

And straight began to sing

A simple verse of hopeful love

This very childish thing:

"While here below, how sweet to know

His wondrous love and story,

And then, through grace, to see His face,

And live with Him in glory!"

That little child one dreary night
Of winter wind and storm,
Was tossing on a weary couch
Her weak and wasted form :

And in her pain, and in its pause,

She clasped her hands in prayer

(Strange that we had no thoughts of Heaven,

While hers were only there)

Until she said, "O Mother dear,

How sad you seem to be;

Have you forgotten that He said

'Let children come to me?'

Dear mother, bring the blessed Book;
Come, mother, let us sing;"

And then again, with faltering tongue,
She sang that childish thing: