Nearer Home

ONE sweetly solemn thought

Comes to me o'er and o'er;

I am nearer home to-day

Than I ever have been before;

Nearer my Father's house,

Where the many mansions be; Nearer the great white throne, Nearer the crystal sea.

Nearer the bound of life,

Where we lay our burdens down;

Nearer leaving the cross,

Nearer gaining the crown!

But lying darkly between,

Winding down through the night, Is the silent, unknown stream That leads at last to the light.

Closer and closer my steps

Come to the dread abysm;

Closer death to my lips
Presses the awful chrysm.

Oh, if my mortal feet

Have almost gained the brink,
If it be I am nearer home

Even to-day than I think;

Father, perfect my trust;

Let my spirit feel in death,
That her feet are firmly set

On the rock of a living faith!

I shall arrive. - What time, what circuit first,
I ask not: but unless God send His hail
Of blinding fireballs, sleet, or stifling snow,
In some time, His good time, I shall arrive;
He guides me and the bird. In His good time.

HA

The Pilgrims of the Night

ARK! hark! my soul, angelic songs are swelling

O'er earth's green fields and ocean's wave-beat

shore ;

How sweet the truth those blessèd strains are

telling

Of that new life where sin shall be no more!

Angels of Jesus,

Angels of light,

Singing to welcome

The pilgrims of the night.

Onward we go, for still we hear them singing,
"Come, weary souls, for Jesus bids you come;
And through the dark, its echo sweetly ringing,
The music of the Gospel leads us home.

Angels of Jesus,

Angels of light,

Singing to welcome

The pilgrims of the night.

Far, far away, like bells at evening pealing,
The voice of Jesus sounds o'er land and sea,
And laden souls by thousands meekly stealing,
Kind Shepherd, turn their weary steps to Thee.

Angels of Jesus,

Angels of Light,

Singing to welcome

The pilgrims of the night.

Rest comes at length, though life be long and dreary,

The day must dawn, and darksome night be

past;

Faith's journeys end in welcome to the weary, And heaven, the heart's true home, will come at last.

Angels of Jesus,

Angels of light,

Singing to welcome

The pilgrims of the night.

Angels, sing on! your faithful watches keeping; Sing us sweet fragments of the songs above; Till morning's joy shall end the night of weeping, And life's long shadows break in cloudless love.

Angels of Jesus,

Angels of light,

Singing to welcome

The pilgrims of the night.

FREDERICK WILLIAM FABER.

E

Dying Hymn

ARTH, with its dark and dreadful ills,
Recedes, and fades away;

Lift up your heads, ye heavenly hills;
Ye gates of death, give way!

My soul is full of whispered song;
My blindness is my sight;
The shadows that I feared so long
Are all alive with light.

The while my pulses faintly beat,
My faith doth so abound,
I feel grow firm beneath my feet
The green immortal ground.

That faith to me a courage gives,
Low, as the grave, to go,
I know that my Redeemer lives;
That I shall live, I know.

The palace wall I almost see,

Where dwells my Lord and King;

O grave, where is thy victory!

O death, where is thy sting!

ALICE CARY.