A City that hath foundations.

EYOND the dark and stormy bound
That girds our dull horizon round,
A lovelier landscape swells;
Resplendent seat of light and peace,
In thee the sounds of conflict cease,
And glory ever dwells.

For thee the early patriarch sighed,
Thy distant beauty faint descried,
And hailed the blest abode;
A stranger here, he sought a home
Fixed in a city yet to come,
The city of his God.

Oft by Siloa's sacred stream,

In heavenly trance and raptured dream,
To faithful Israel shewn,
Triumphant over all her foes,
The true celestial Salem rose,
Jehovah's promised throne.

We too, O Lord, would seek that land, Follow the tribes that crowd its strand,

From every peril saved;

And wake as when, in elder time,
Were marshalled all Thy hosts sublime,

And high Thy banner waved.

Sabbath.

FTER long days of storm and showers,
Of sighing winds and dripping bowers,
How sweet at morn to ope our eyes
On newly swept and garnished skies.

To miss the cloud and driving rain,
And see that all is bright again,
So bright we cannot choose but say,
"Is this the world of yesterday?"

E'en so methinks, the Sabbath brings
A change o'er all familiar things;
A change we know not whence it came,
They are, and they are not the same.

There is a spell within, around,

On and
eye ear, on sight and sound,
And, loth or willing, they and we
Must own this day a mystery.

Sure all things wear a heavenly dress,
Which sanctifies their loveliness;

Types of that endless resting day,

When we shall all be changed as they.

To-day our peaceful, ordered home,
Foreshadoweth mansions yet to come,
We foretaste in domestic love,

The faultless charities above.

And as at yester eventide

Our tasks and toys were laid aside,
So here, we're training for the day,
When we shall lay them down for aye.

But not alone for musing deep,

Our souls this "day of days" would keep, Yet other glorious things than these, The Christian in his Sabbath sees.

His eyes by faith his Lord behold,
How on the week's "first day" of old,
From hell He rose, on earth He trod,
Was seen of men, and went to God.

And as we fondly pause to look,

When in some daily-handled book, Approval's well-known tokens stand, Traced by some dear and thoughtful hand.

E'en so there shines one day in seven, Bright with the special mark of heaven, That we with love and praise may dwell On Him who loveth us so well.

Whether in meditative walk

Alone with God and heaven we talk, Catching the simple chime which calls Our feet to some old church's walls,—

Or passed within the church's door,

Where poor are rich, and rich are poor, We pray the prayers, and hear the word, Which there our fathers prayed and heard.

Or represent in solemn wise,
Our all-prevailing Sacrifice,
Feeding in communion high

The life of faith which cannot die.

And surely in a world like this,

So rife with woe, so scant of bliss, Where fondest hopes are oftenest crossed, And fondest hearts are severed most,

'Tis something that we kneel and pray, With loved ones near and far away, One God, one faith, one hope, one care,

One form of words, one hour of prayer.

'Tis past, yet pause till ear and heart,
In one brief silence ere we part,
Something of that high strain have caught,
The peace of God which passeth aught.

Then turn we to our earthly homes,

Not doubting but that Jesus comes, Breathing His peace on hall and hut,

"At even when the doors are shut,".

Then speeds us on our earthly way,
And hallows every common day,
Without Him Sunday's self were dim,
And all are bright if spent with Him.

Quiet from God.

UIET from God, it cometh not to still
The vast and high aspirings of the soul,
The deep emotions that the spirit fill,
And speed its purpose onward to the goal.
It dims not youth's bright eye,
Bends not joy's lofty brow;
No guileless ecstasy

Need in its presence bow.

It comes not in a sullen form to place
Life's greatest good in an inglorious rest,
Through a dull beaten track its way to trace,
And to lethargic slumber lull the breast.
Action may be its sphere,

Mountain paths, boundless fields,

O'er billows its career;

This is the strength it yields.

To sojourn in the world and yet apart,

To dwell with God, and yet with man to feel,

To bear about for ever in the heart

The gladness that His spirit doth reveal.