And will man alone be dumb,

Till that glorious kingdom come?
No:-the church delights to raise

Psalms, and hymns, and songs of praise.

Saints below, with heart and voice,
Still in songs of praise rejoice;
Learning here by faith and love,
Songs of praise to sing above.
Borne upon their latest breath,
Songs of praise shall conquer death;

Then amidst eternal joy

Songs of praise their powers employ.

Montgomery.

The Angel of Patience.

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN.

HROUGHOUT this earth in, stillness,

An angel walks abroad,

For consoling in our weakness

He is strengthened of the Lord;

Peace in his look abideth,

With a mild and quiet grace,
Oh! follow where he guideth,
Follow Patience in thy race.
He ever truly leads thee

Through suffering here below,
And speaking oft to cheer thee,
A brighter time he'll show.

Does thy heart sink despairing?
Thy hope he doth recall,
He helps thee in cross-bearing,
To good he turneth all.

He calms to quiet sadness
The anguish of thy breast;
The heart that was so restless,
In humility hath rest.
Thy darkest hour of weeping
He brighteneth by degrees,
Though thy wound be slow in healing
He gives thee certain ease.

Thy tears no anger cause him,
He waiteth to console,
He chides not thy desiring,

With grace he stills thy soul.
When troubles round are raging
Murm'ring, thou askest "why?"
Voiceless-thy grief assuaging,
He smiles and points on high.

Not for all anxious questions
Doth he replies prepare,

The sum of his monitions

"Endure-soon ends thy care.” Thus, with thy footsteps blending, His words are few and plain, And his thoughts are only tending To the great, the glorious aim.

M. S. M.

Incompleteness.

OTHING resting in its own completeness
Can have worth or beauty: but alone
Because it leads and tends to farther sweetness,
Fuller, higher, deeper than its own.

Spring's real glory dwells not in the meaning, Gracious though it be, of her blue hours; But is hidden in her tender leaning

To the summer's richer wealth of flowers.

Dawn is fair, because the mists fade slowly
Into day, which floods the world with light;
Twilight's mystery is so sweet and holy,
Just because it ends in starry night.

Childhood's smiles unconscious graces borrow
From strife, that in a far-off future lies;
And angel glances (veiled now by life's sorrow)
Draw our hearts to some beloved eyes.

Life is only bright when it proceedeth
Towards a truer, deeper, life above;
Human love is sweetest when it leadeth
To a more divine and perfect love.

Learn the mystery of progression duly,
Do not call each glorious change, decay;
But know we only hold our treasures truly
When it seems as if they passed away;

Nor dare to blame God's gifts for incompleteness; In that want their beauty lies: they roll

Towards some infinite depth of love and sweetness, Bearing onwards man's reluctant soul.

A. A. Procter.

Nearer to Thee.

EARER, my God, to Thee,-
Nearer to Thee,

›E'en though it be a cross
That raiseth me:

Still all my song would be,
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee.

Though like the wanderer,
Daylight all gone,

Darkness be o'er me,

My rest a stone;

Yet, in my dreams, I'd be
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee.

There let the way appear
Steps unto heaven;

All that Thou sendest me,

In mercy given;

Angels to beckon me

Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee.

Then with my waking thoughts
Bright with Thy praise,

Out of my stony griefs

Bethel I'll raise;

So by my woes to be
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee.

Or if on joyful wing,
Cleaving the sky,

Sun, moon, and stars forgot,
Upwards I fly;

Still all my song shall be,
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee.

Christ alone beareth me

Where Thou dost shine: Joint-heir He maketh me

Of the Divine!

In Christ my soul shall be
Nearer, my God, to Thee.

Nearer to Thee.

S. F. Adams.