And one-he had toiled amid burning sands,
When the scorching sun was high;

He had grasped the plough with a fevered hand,
And then laid him down to die :

But another, and yet another,

That deserted field had filled, Nor vainly the seed they scattered

Where a brother's care had tilled.

Some with eager step went boldly forth,
Broad-casting o'er the land;

Some watered the scarcely budding blade,
With a tender, gentle hand.
There's one, her young life was blighted
By the withering touch of woe:

Her days were sad and weary,

And she never went forth to sow ;

But there rose from her lonely couch of pain
The fervent pleading prayer;
She looks on many a radiant brow,
And reads the answer there!
Yes! sowers and reapers are meeting;
A rejoicing host they come !
Will you join that echoing chorus?
'Tis the song of the Harvest-Home.

COME UNTO ME.

ST MATTHEW Xi, 28.

CHILD of sorrrow, doubt, and care, Whose weary load is hard to bear, "Come unto Me,"

Tell Me thy every want and care, Come and pour out thy soul in prayer, Thy trials I will gladly share,

"Come unto Me."

Lone one! all stricken with the blow,
Arrest those ceaseless tears that flow,
And "Come unto Me,"

Hast thou lost friends or parents dear,
Weep not, for I am ever near,
Take comfort then,-and do not fear,
But, "Come unto Me."

Weary one, burdened with thy sin,
A rankling dart thy breast within;
"Come unto me;"

Wash in My blood thy crimson stain, No trace of guilt will then remain, Say, was My death for thee in vain, "Come unto Me."

Lonely watcher in the night, Counting the hours till morning light, "Come unto Me;"

I marked the tear bedew thine eye,
I heard the deep and heavy sigh,

My sympathy is ever nigh,

"Come unto Me."

Fading one, whose hectic cheek
Consumption's cruel disease doth speak,
"Come unto Me;

Dread not the entrance to the tomb,
My love shall light thee through the gloom,
In fields of light again to bloom,
"Come unto Me."

Mourner, with thy heart so rent,
Lift up thine head in anguish bent,
And, "Come unto Me;"

My hand it was that stirred thy nest,
'Twas I who took thy loved and best,
And bore him safely to My rest,
He came to Me,

And thou, thou too, "Come unto Me."

Warrior in the battle rife,
Wearied and worn with mortal strife,
"Come unto Me;"

Tremble not at the sharp contest,

Come, and lean on thy Captain's breast,
Come and there shalt thou find rest,
"Come unto Me."

Sailor on the ocean wide,

Away from home and kindred's side, "Come unto Me;"

Dread not the raging sea so deep,

Thy Saviour o'er thee guard doth keep, And blest are they who in Jesus sleep, "Come unto Me."

Yea, come and taste My love sublime,
Welcome to Me from every clime,
"Come unto Me;"

Come,-while my call ye can obey,
Come, to the realms of endless day,
Enter by Me,-"I am the way,"
"Come unto Me."

Come, and be clothed in robes of white,
Come, and bask in thy Saviour's light,
"Come unto Me;"

Come, and be of the seraph throng,
Come, and join in the angels' song,
"Worthy the Lamb" cries every tongue,
"Come unto Me."

EMMA MOODY.

FROM CLOUD TO LIGHT.

THE way is dark, my Father! Cloud upon cloud
Is gathering thickly o'er my head, and loud
The thunders roar above me; yet see, stand
I like one bewildered! Father, take my hand,
And thro' the gloom lead safely home.

The day declines, my Father, and the night
Is drawing darkly down. My faithless sight
Sees ghostly visions. Fears of a spectral band
Encompass me. O Father, take my hand,

And from the night lead up to light.

The path is rough, my Father! Many a thorn
Has pierced me; and my feet all torn
And bleeding, mark the way. Yet Thy command
Bids me press forward. Father, take my hand;
Then safe and blest, oh, lead to rest.

The throng is great, my Father! Many a doubt
And fear of danger compass me about;
And foes oppress me sore. I cannot stand
Or go alone. O Father, take my hand,

And through the throng lead safe along.

The cross is heavy, Father! I have borne
It long, and still do bear it. Let my worn
And fainting spirit rise to that bright land
Where crowns are given. Father, take my hand;
And reaching down lead to the crown,
Lead to the crown.

"Sacred Songs."

UPWARD.

UPWARD, where the stars are burning,
Silent, silent, in their turning

Round the never-changing pole;

Upward, where the sky is brightest,
Upward, where the blue is lightest,
Lift I now my longing soul.