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High thoughts!
They visit us

In moments when the soul is dim and dark

ened ;

They come to bless,

After the vanities to which we hearkened. When weariness hath come upon the spirit(Those hours of darkness which we all inherit) Bursts there not through a glimpse of warm sun


A winged thought, which bids us not repine ?

In joy and gladness,
In mirth and sadness,
Come signs and tokens :

Life's angel brings,

Upon its wings,
Those bright communings

The soul doth keep
Those thoughts of heaven

So pure and deep.

ΧΧΙΙΙ. , “An inheritance incorruptible, and undefiled, that fadeth not away."-1 Peter i. 4. THERE is a land, where everlasting suns Shed everlasting brightness—where the soul Drinks from the living streams of Love, that roll By God's high throne ;--myriads of glorious ones

Bring there th' accepted offering. O how blest
To look from this dark prison to that shrine,
To inhale one breath of Paradise divine-
And enter into that eternal rest
Which waits the sons of God! Remote from

Remote from disappointment, to employ
Hours never-ending in the courts of joy,
And wear a crown of heavenly splendour there !
With such a destiny—what earthly fear,
What earthly woe, shall cloud my spirit ? None.
Forward, then, forward to the golden throne !
Why should our restless wishes linger here?
See from the clouds a smiling angel calls,
“Come hither, Christian !-Open is the door-
The path is straight-delay not, doubt no more,
Lo! thou art welcome to the heavenly halls.”
Father, I go !-I hear th' inviting sound-
No more shall earthly objects dim my eyes
Away, away the world's dull vanities !
I hasten on-to heaven, to Eden bound.


Father, I will that they also, whom Thou hast given me, be with me where I am.”—John xvii. 24.

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When trembling on the awful bourn

Which bounds life's transitory stage, Tranquil my dying thoughts shall turn

Back on the well-spent pilgrimage : While visions, robed in glory bright,

Beam thro’ life's evening shade serene, From heaven's eternal isles of light;

What tho' the waters roll between ? The arm that oft hath saved, shall save;

Death has no terrors now for me. Where is thy sting, O where, thou grave ?

0, Death! where is thy victory ? Methinks I see the flow'rets bloom

Even now on Eden's vernal shore; Methinks I feel the breezes come

To waft the enfranchis'd prisoner o'er ; Methinks a light as soft as sweet

Smiles on me as the pale moon's ray; Methinks I heard the angels greet,

“Come hither, spirit, come!”—they say.

I hasten : as my eye grows dim,

And darkens on this fading sphere,
I see the smiling seraphim

Wax more and more resplendent there ;
And as my ear grows deaf and dull

To the vain sounds of earthly art,
The music, soft and beautiful,

Of heaven, absorbs my raptur'd heart.


" Come


hither."-Rev. iv. 1. I HEAR the voices of the sons of light, Blending and circling round from sphere to sphere; Each star a chord of musicma wave's flow In the majestic sea of song that rolls In ceaseless tides of harmony, which know No rest-no discord. There departed souls Join the eternal chorus. Thence they speak To us poor pilgrims wandering still on earthThey bid us soar above earth’s vale—and seek The country, where our holier parts had birth, And whither they are tending. Father ! thither My eager heart aspires--and when this scene Fades round me, and its passing flow'rets wither, There let me rest, rewarded and serene.



“ Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright; for the end of that man is peace." BEHOLD the western evening light,

It melts in deepest gloom;
So calmly Christians sink away,

Descending to the tomb.
The winds breathe low; the withering leaf

Scarce whispers from the tree;
So gently flows the parting breath,

When good men cease to be.
How beautiful on all the hills

The crimson light is shed ;
'T is like the peace the Christian gives

To mourners round his bed.
How mildly on the wandering cloud

The sunset beam is cast;
'T is like the memory left behind,

When loved ones breathe their last.
And now, above the dews of night,

The yellow star appears ;
So faith springs in the hearts of those

Whose eyes are bathed with tears.

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