The future heaven just breaking on the sight,
The glimmerings of a still increasing light,
Its cheering scenes, foretastes of heavenly joy,
Its storms and tempests sent to purify;

O! is not life a bright, inspiring thing?

"What is the gift of life?"

To him whose soul through this tempestuous road
Hath past, and found its home-it's heaven, it's
God,

Who sees the boundless page of knowledge spread,
And years, as boundless, rolling o'er his head,
No cloud to darken the celestial light,
No sin to sully, and no grief to blight,-
Is not that better life a glorious thing?

XX.

"Passed from death unto life."-John v. 24.

DEATH comes to take me where I long to be; One pang, and bright blooms the immortal flower;

Death comes to lead me from mortality,

To lands which know not one unhappy hour; I have a hope, a faith-from sorrow here I'm led by death away,-why should I start and fear?

M

If I have loved the forest and the field,

Can I not love them deeper, better there? If all that power hath made, to me doth yield Something of good and beauty-something fair

Freed from the grossness of mortality,

May I not love them all, and better all enjoy?
A change from woe to joy-from earth to heaven,
Death gives me this-it leads me calmly where
The souls that long ago from mine were riven

May meet again. Death answers many a prayer. Bright day, shine on! be glad : days brighter far Are stretched before my eyes than those of mortals are!

XXI.

"God will redeem my soul from the power of the grave; for He will receive me."-Psalm xlix. 15. I LIKE that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls The burial ground God's Acre ! it is just; It consecrates each grave within its walls,

And breathes a benison o'er the sleeping dust. God's Acre! Yes that blessed name imparts

Comfort to those who in the grave have sown The seed that they had garnered in their hearts,

Their bread of life, alas! no more their own.

Into its furrows shall we all be cast,

In the sure faith that we shall rise again
At the great harvest, when the Archangel's blast
Shall winnow, like a fan, the chaff and grain.

Then shall the good stand in immortal bloom,
In the fair gardens of that second birth;
And each bright blossom mingle its perfume
With that of flowers which never bloomed on
earth.

With thy rude ploughshare, Death, turn up the sod, And spread the furrow for the seed we sow ; This is the field and acre of our God,

This is the place where human harvests grow!

XXII.

"Knowing in yourselves that ye have in heaven a better and an enduring substance."-Heb. x. 34.

HIGH thoughts!

They come and go,

Like the soft breathings of a listening maiden,

While round me flow

The winds, from woods and fields with gladness laden:

When the corn's rustle on the ear doth comeWhen the eve's beetle sounds its drowsy hum,When the stars, dewdrops of the summer sky, Watch over all with soft and loving eyeWhile the leaves quiver

By the lone river,

And the quiet heart

From depths doth call,

And garners all,
Earth grows a shadow

Forgotten whole,

And heaven lives

In the blessed soul !

High thoughts!

They are with me

When, deep within the bosom of the forest, Thy morning melody

Abroad into the sky, thou, Throstle, pour

est.

When the young sunbeams glance among the

trees

When on the ear comes the soft song of beesWhen every branch has its own favourite bird, And songs of summer from each thicket heard! Where the owl flitteth,

Where the roe sitteth,

And holiness

Seems sleeping there;
While nature's prayer

Goes up to heaven

In purity,

Till all is glory

And joy to me!

High thoughts!

They are my own

When I am resting on a mountain's bosom, And see below me strown

The huts and homes where humble virtues blossom

When I can trace each streamlet through the meadow

When I can follow every fitful shadow

When I can watch the winds among

the corn,

And see the waves along the forest borne ;
Where blue-bell and heather

Are blooming together,

And far doth come

The sabbath bell,
O'er wood and fell;
I hear the beating

Of nature's heart:
Heaven is before me—

God! Thou art!