Beyond the rifing and the setting,
I fhall be soon;

Beyond the calming and the fretting,
Beyond remembering and forgetting,
I fhall be soon.

Love, reft, and home!

Sweet home!

Lord, tarry not, but come.

Beyond the parting and the meeting,
I fhall be soon;

Beyond the farewell and the greeting,
Beyond the pulse's fever beating,

I fhall be soon.

Love, reft, and home!

Sweet home!

Lord, tarry not, but come.

Beyond the frost-chain and the fever,
I fhall be soon;

Beyond the rock-waste and the river,
Beyond the ever and the never

I fhall be soon.

Love, reft, and home!

Sweet home!

Lord, tarry not, but come.

Rev. Dr. Bonar.

A

A LITTLE LONGER.

LITTLE longer yet, a little longer,

Shall violets bloom for thee and sweet birds fing,

And the lime branches, where soft winds are blowing, Shall murmur the sweet promise of the spring.

A little longer yet, a little longer,

Thou shalt behold the quiet of the morn, While tender graffes and awakening flowers, Send up a golden tint to greet the dawn.

A little longer yet, a little longer,

The tenderness of twilight fhall be thine, The rosy clouds that float o'er dying daylight, Nor fade till trembling ftars begin to fhine.

A little longer yet, a little longer,

Shall ftarry night be beautiful for thee,

And the cold moon fhall look through the blue filence, Flooding her filver path upon the sea.

A little longer yet, a little longer,

Life fhall be thine life with its power to will, Life with its ftrength to bear, to love, to conquer, Bringing its thousand joys thy heart to fill.

A little longer yet, a little longer,

The voices thou haft loved fhall charm thine ear; And thy true heart that now beats quick to hear them A little longer yet, fhall hold them dear.

A little longer yet, joy while thou mayst;

Love and rejoice, for time has nought in store ; And soon the darkness of the grave shall bid thee Love and rejoice, and feel and know no more.

A little longer ftill-patience, beloved:
A little longer ftill, ere heaven unroll
The glory, and the brightness, and the wonder,
Eternal and divine that waits thy soul.

A little longer ere life, true, immortal,

(Not this our fhadowy life) will be thine own, And thou shalt stand where winged archangels worship, And trembling bow before the Great White Throne.

A little longer still, and heaven awaits thee,
And fills thy spirit with a great delight;
Then our pale joys will seem a dream forgotten,
Our sun a darkness, and our day a night.

A little longer, and thy heart, beloved,
Shall beat forever with a love divine;

And joy so pure, so mighty, so eternal,

No mortal knows, and lives, fhall then be thine.

A little longer yet, and angel voices

Shall fing in heavenly chant upon thine ear;

Angels and saints await thee, and God needs thee;
Belovéd, can we bid thee linger here?

Christian Regifter.

WHE

DEATH.

HEN Thou fhalt please this soul to enthrone
Above impure corruption,

What fhould I grieve or feare,

To think this breathleffe body muft
Become a loathsome heape of duft,
And ne'er again appeare
e?

For in the fire where ore is tryed,
And by that torment purified,

Doe we deplore the loffe?

And, when Thou fhalt my soul refine,
That it thereby may purer fhine,

Shall I grieve for the droffe?

Habington.

MORTALITY.

"And we shall be changed."

E dainty moffes, lichens gray,

Preff'd each to each in tender fold,

And peacefully thus, day by day,
Returning to their mould;

Brown leaves, that with aerial grace

Slip from your branch like birds a-wing, Each leaving in the appointed place Its bud of future Spring;

If we, God's conscious creatures, knew
But half your faith in our decay,
We fhould not tremble as we do
When summon'd clay to clay.

But with an equal patience sweet
We should put off this mortal gear,
In whatsoe'er new form is meet

Content to reappear.

Knowing each germ of life He gives

Muft have in Him its source and rise,