For His bluid has made me white, an' His han' shall dry mine e’e,

When He brings me hame at last, to my ain

countrie.

Sae little noo I ken, o' yon blessed, bonnie place,
I only ken it's hame, whaur we shall see His face :
It wad surely be eneuch for ever mair to be
In the glory o' His presence, in oor ain countrie.
Like a bairn to his mither, a wee birdie to its nest,
I wad fain be gangin' noo unto my Saviour's breast,
For He gathers in His bosom witless, worthless
lambs like me,

And carries them Himsel' to His ain countrie.

He is faithfu' that hath promised, an' He'll surely come again,

He'll keep His tryst wi' me, at what hour I dinna

ken;

But He bids me still to wait an' ready aye to be,
To gang at ony moment to my ain countrie,
Sae I'm watching aye, an' singin' o' my hame, as
I wait

For the soun'ing o' His foot-fa' this side the

gowden gate;

God gie His grace to ilka ane wha' listens noo to

me,

That we a' may gang in gladness to oor ain

countrie.

MARY LEE DEMAREST.

If life awake and will never cease
On the future's distant shore,
And the rose of love and the lily of peace
Shall bloom there forevermore.

Let the world go round and round,
And the sun sink into the sea,

For whether I'm on or under the ground
Oh, what will it matter to me?

- JOSIAH GILBERT HOLLAND. .

Prospice

TEAR death? -to feel the fog in my throat,

NEAR

The mist in my face,

When the snows begin, and the blasts denote

I am nearing the place.

The power of the night, the press of the storm,

The post of the foe;

Where he stands, the Arch-fear in a visible form, Yet the strong man must go:

For the journey is done and the summit attain'd, And the barriers fall,

Though a battle's to fight ere the guerdon be gain’d, The reward of it all.

I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and forbore,

And bade me creep past.

No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers, The heroes of old,

Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears Of pain, darkness, and cold.

For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave, The black minute's at end,

And the elements rage, the fiend-voices that rave, Shall dwindle, shall blend,

Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain, Then a light, then thy breast,

O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again, And with God be the rest.

Why will

ye call it Death's Dark Night

WHY will ye call it, "Death's dark night”?

Death is the entrance into light:

Behind its cloudy purple gates

The everlasting morning waits.

Then fear not death, its pains, its strife,
Its weakness these belong to life.
Death is the moment when they cease,

When Christ says, “Come," and all is peace.

C. M. NOEL.

From "Thanatopsis "

live, that when

thy summons comes to join

The innumerable caravan, that moves

To that mysterious realm, where each shalt take
His chamber in the silent halls of death.
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

By permission of D. Appleton & Co.

I

The Eternal Goodness

LONG for household voices gone,
For vanished smiles I long,

But God hath led my dear ones on,
And He can do no wrong.

I know not what the future hath
Of marvel or surprise,

Assured alone that life and death

His mercy underlies.

And if my heart and flesh are weak
To bear an untried pain,
The bruised reed He will not break,
But strengthen and sustain.

No offering of my own I have,
Nor works my faith to prove;
I can but give the gift He gave,
And plead His love for love.

And so beside the Silent Sea
I wait the muffled oar;

No harm from Him can come to me

On ocean or on shore.