Beloved, it is well;

The path that Jesus trod,
Though rough and dark it be,
Leads home to heaven and God.

TILL HE COME.

"Ye do show the Lord's death till He come."-1 Cor. xi. 26.

TILL He come-oh, let the words
Linger on the trembling chords!
Let the little while between
In their golden light be seen;
Let us think how heaven and home
Lie beyond that "Till He come."

When the weary ones we love
Enter on their rest above,

Seems the earth so poor and vast,

All our life-joy overcast?
Hush! be every murmur dumb;
It is only "Till He come."

Clouds and conflicts round us press;
Would we have one sorrow less?
All the sharpness of the cross,
All that tells the world is loss;
Death, and darkness, and the tomb
Only whisper, "Till He come."

See, the feast of love is spread,

Drink the wine, and break the bread;

Sweet memorials-till the Lord
Calls us round His heavenly board;
Some from earth, from glory some,

Severed only "Till He come."

BICKERSTETH.

THE HEAVENLY CHOIR.

HARK, hark, my soul! Angelic songs are swelling
O'er earth's green fields, and ocean's wave-beat

shore;

How sweet the truth those blessed strains are telling Of that new life when sin shall be no more.

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

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.

Rest comes at length; though life be long and dreary,
The day must dawn, and darksome night be past;
Faith's journey ends in welcome to the weary,

And heaven, the heart's true home, will come at last.

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.

FABER.

OUR LIFE ON EARTH.

SOME there are scarcely seen
On this world's troublous wave;
So short the space between
The cradle and the grave.

And some in middle age,
While busy life beats high,
Earth's warfare cease to wage
And lay them down to die ;

To "threescore years and ten,"
Of sorrow and of strife,
Some struggle on, and then
Yield up this weary life.

Some toil a longer space,

Fre that their labour's done;

And run a longer race,

Ere sinks their setting sun.

'Tis but of little worth

How short, how long, our stay Amidst the things of earth, Whose impress is decay ;

So that the soul be strong
In faith, and hope, and love;
And all life's path along

Sees HOME and REST above.

E. Fox.

IT IS I; BE NOT AFRAID.

MATT. xiv. 27.

THE eye of Jesus watching

The toilers on the lake,

When winds and waves are thwarting Their efforts for His sake:

The ear of Jesus hearing

The strong and earnest cry-"Lord, save us, or we perish," Ascending to the sky :

The heart of Jesus yearning,
And pleading in His might,
Whilst their frail bark is tossing,
And struggling all the night :

The form of Jesus moving
Across life's troubled sea,

To still its angry waters,

To make them calm for thee:

The feet of Jesus coming

Through darkness of thy grief,

To light thy desolation,
To bring thy heart relief:

The hand of Jesus guiding,
When waves of trouble roll;
When billows of temptation

Are surging round thy soul:

The promises of Jesus

They're flashing round the tomb,
Like signals from the mainland,
To light thee through the gloom :
The morning watch is breaking,
The darkness flieth past;
He comes! and He is speaking!
(It is Himself at last!)

"Tis I; be not afraid."

DEAN PAKENHAM WALSH.

LAZARUS.

WHEN Lazarus left his charnel-cave,
And home to Mary's house returned,
Was this demanded-if he yearned
To hear her weeping by his grave?

Where wert thou, brother, those four days?
There lives no record of reply,

Which telling what it is to die
Had surely added praise to praise.

From every house the neighbours met,

The streets were filled with joyful sound,
A solemn gladness even crowned

The purple brows of Olivet.

Behold a man raised up by Christ!

The rest remaineth unrevealed;
He told it not; or something sealed
The lips of that evangelist.

TENNYSON.