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Then e'en in age and grief thy name
Shall still my languid heart inflame,
And bow my faltering knee;
For yet this bosom feels the fire;

This trembling hand and drooping lyre,
Have still a strain for thee.

Yes! tuneless, broken, still, O Lord,
This voice, transported, shall record
Thy goodness, tried so long;
Till sinking slow, with calm decay,
Its feeble numbers melt away
Into a seraph's song.

Heavenly Realities.


WHAT no human eye hath seen, What no mortal ear hath heard, What on thought hath never been

In her noblest flights conferred,This hath God prepared in store For his people evermore.

When the shaded pilgrim-land
Fades before my closing eye,
Then, revealed on either hand,
Heaven's own scenery shall lie;
Then the veil of flesh shall fall,
Now concealing, dark'ning all.

Heavenly landscapes, calmly bright,
Life's pure river, murmuring low,
Forms of loveliness and light
Lost to earth long time ago,-
Yes, my own, lamented long,
Shine amid the angel throng.

Many a joyful sight was given,
Many a lovely vision here,

Hill and vale, and starry even,

Friendship's smile, affliction's tear,—

These were shadows sent in love,

Of realities above.

When upon my wearied ear,

Earth's last echoes faintly die,
Then shall angel harps draw near,
All the chorus of the sky;
Long-hushed voices blend again
Sweetly in that welcome strain.

Here were sweet and varied tones,

Bird and breeze, and fountain's fall;

Yet creation's travail groans,

Ever sadly sighed through all;

There no discord jars the air-
Harmony is perfect there!

When this aching heart shall rest,

All its busy pulses o'er,

From her mortal robes undrest,

Shall my spirit upward soar;

Then shall pure, unmingled joy
All my thoughts and powers employ.

Here devotion's healing balm

Often came to soothe my breast; Hours of deep and holy calm, Earnests of eternal rest;

But the bliss was here unknown Which shall there be "all" my own.

Jesus reigns, the Life, the Sun,

Of that wondrous land above;

All the clouds and storms are gone,

All is light, and all is love. All the shadows melt away

In the blaze of perfect day.

orrows and Consolations of Old Age.

of old age.


VERY mournful are some of the Bible descriptions "The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away." This is no picture of fancy. Nor is that which Solomon gives us by way of enforcing the exhortation, "Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth," when he says, "While the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them; while the sun, or the light, or the moon, or the stars be not darkened, nor the clouds return after the rain;—

"In the day when the keepers of the house shall tremble,

And the strong men shall bow themselves,

And the grinders cease because they are few,

And those that look out of the windows be darkened,

And the doors shall be shut in the streets,

*From "Rest under the Shadow of the Great Rock. A Book of Facts and Principles." By the Rev. John Kennedy, M. A.

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