EARTH AND HEAVEN.

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Earth and Heaven.

CAROLINE BOWLES.

OH, CHANGE! oh, wondrous change!
Burst are the prison bars!

This moment there-so low,

In mortal prayer-and now
Beyond the stars!

Oh, change! stupendous change!
Here lies the senseless clod;

The soul from bondage breaks,

The new immortal wakes

Awakes with God!

. Triumph in Death.

8. T. COLERIDGE.

THE heir of heaven, henceforth, I fear not death;
In Christ I live; in Christ I draw the breath
Of the true life;—let, then, earth, sea and sky,
Make war against me! On my heart I show
Their mighty Master's seal. In vain they try
To end my life, that can but end its woe.
Is that a death-bed where a Christian lies?
Yes! but not his-'tis Death himself there dies!

The Calm for those who Weep.

JAMES MONTGOMERY.

THERE is a calm for those who weep,
A rest for weary pilgrims found,
They softly lie and sweetly sleep

Low in the ground.

THE CALM FOR THOSE WHO WEEP.

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The storm that wrecks the winter sky
No more disturbs their deep repose,
Than summer evening's latest sigh

That shuts the rose.

There is a calm for those who weep,
A rest for weary pilgrims found;
And while the mouldering ashes sleep
Low in the ground,

The Soul, of origin divine,

GOD's glorious image, freed from clay,
In heaven's eternal sphere shall shine
A star of day.

The sun is but a spark of fire,
A transient meteor in the sky:
The SOUL, immortal as its Sire,

SHALL NEVER DIE!

On the Death of an Aged Minister.

MONTGOMERY.

SERVANT of God, well done!
Rest from thy loved employ;
The battle fought, the victory won,
Enter thy Master's joy.

The voice at midnight came,

He started up to hear;

A mortal arrow pierced his frame, He felt-but felt no fear.

Tranquil amidst alarms,

It found him on the field, A veteran slumbering on his arms, Beneath his red-cross shield.

His sword was in his hand,

Still warm with recent fight, Ready that moment, at command,

Through rock and steel to smite.

ON THE DEATH OF AN AGED MINISTER.

It was a two-edged blade,

Of heavenly temper keen:

And double were the wounds it made,
Where'er it glanced between.

At midnight came the cry,
"To meet thy God prepare !"

He woke and caught his captain's eye;
Then strong in faith and prayer,

His spirit, with a bound,

Left its encumbering clay;

His tent, at sunrise, on the ground,
A darken'd ruin lay.

The pains of death are past,

Labor and sorrow cease;

And life's long warfare closed at last,
His soul is found in peace.

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