XCI.

THE SABBATH.

HE Sundays of man's life,

Threaded together on Time's ftring,
Make bracelets to adorn the wife
Of the eternal glorious King.

On Sunday, heaven's gate ftands

ope;

Bleffings are plentiful and rife,

More plentiful than hope.

GEORGE HERBERT.

XCII.

THE FIRST GREAT CAUSE.

VERY fcience, power, or art,
Which tends to fofter in the heart
Knowledge of Nature's laws,
Muft, fanctified by grace divine,
Precept on precept, line on line,

Exalt the Firft Great Cause.

The Cross.-The Light of Heaven. 259

XCIII.

THE CROSS.

F loving hearts were never lonely,
If all they wish might always be,
Accepting what they look for only,

They might be glad, but not in Thee.

We need as much the Crofs we bear,
As air we breathe-as light we fee;

It draws us to Thy fide in prayer,
It binds us to our ftrength in Thee.

A. L. WARING.

XCIV.

THE LIGHT OF HEAVEN.

HUS when the lamp that lighted
The traveller at first goes out,
He feels awhile benighted,

And lingers on in fear and doubt.

But foon, the prospect clearing,
In cloudless ftarlight on he treads;
And finds no lamp fo cheering,
As that light which heaven fheds.

Moore.

XCV.

HEAVEN.

F God could make this world fo fair,
Where death and fin abound-
How beautiful beyond compare

Will Paradife be found!

J. MONTGOMERY.

XCVI.

HEAVEN.

HERE'S reft for the foul that on Jefus

relies;

There's a home for the homeless pre

pared in the skies;

There's a joy in believing, a peace and a ftay

Which the world cannot give, nor the world take

away.

XCVII.

HEAVEN.

HERE is a place, beyond that flaming hill,

From whence the ftars their thin appearance fhed;

A place beyond all place; where never
ill

Nor impure thought was ever harboured;
But faintly heroes are for ever faid
To keep an everlafting fabbath's reft.

XCIX.

HEAVEN.

CLOUD lay cradled near the setting fun,

A gleam of crimfon tinged its braided fnow;

Long had I watched the glory moving

on,

O'er the ftill radiance of the lake below. Tranquil its fpirit seemed, and floated flow; E'en in its very motion there was reft; While every breath of wind that chanced to blow, Wafted the beauteous traveller to the West.

Emblem, methought, of the departed foul,

To whofe white robe the gleam of bliss is given, And by the breath of mercy made to roll Right onward to the golden gates of heav'n; Where to the eye of faith it peaceful lies,

And tells to man his glorious deftinies.

WILSON.