OUR REST.

"For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us."- Rom. viii. 18.

My feet are worn and weary with the march

O'er the rough road and up the steep hill-side; O city of our God! I fain would see

Thy pastures green, where peaceful waters glide.

My hands are weary, ever toiling on,
Day after day, for perishable meat;
O city of our God! I fain would rest,–
I sigh to gain thy glorious mercy-seat.

My garments, travel-worn and stained with dust,
Oft rent by briers and thorns that crowd my way,
Would fain be made, O Lord, my righteousness!
Spotless and white in heaven's unclouded ray.

My eyes are weary looking at the sin,
Impiety, and scorn upon the earth;
O city of our God! within thy walls

All-all are clothed again with thy new birth.

My heart is weary of its own deep sin,-
Sinning, repenting, sinning still again;
When shall my soul thy glorious presence feel,
And find, dear Saviour, it is free from stain?

Patience, poor soul! the Saviour's feet were worn; The Saviour's heart and hands were weary, too; His garments stained, and travel-worn, and old; His vision blinded with a pitying dew.

Love thou the path of sorrow that he trod;
Toil on, and wait in patience for thy rest;
O city of our God! we soon shall see

Thy glorious walls, home of the loved and blest.

I WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAYS.

Job vii. 16.

EARTH is the spirit's rayless cell;

But then, as a bird soars home to the shade
Of the beautiful wood, where its nest was made,
In bonds never more to dwell;

So will its weary wing

Be spread for the skies, when its toil is done;
And its breath flow free, as a bird's in the sun,
And the soft fresh gales of spring.

O, not more sweet the tears

Of the dewy eve on the violet shed,

Than the dews of old age on the "hoary head," When it enters the eve of years.

Nor dearer amid the foam

Of the far-off sea, and its stormy roar,

Is a breath of balm from the unseen shore, To him that weeps for home.

Wings, like a dove, to fly !

The spirit is faint with its feverish strife ;O for its home in the upper life!

When, when will death draw nigh?

VIA CRUCIS, VIA LUCIS.

"Brought life and immortality to light."-2 Tim. i. 10.

NIGHT turns to day :

When sullen darkness lowers,

And heaven and earth are hid from sight,

Cheer up, cheer up!

Ere long the opening flowers,

With dewy eyes, shall shine in light.

When over land and ocean

Roll the loud chariots of the wind,

Cheer up, cheer up!

The voice of wild commotion

Proclaims tranquillity behind.

Winter wakes spring: —

When icy blasts are blowing

O'er frozen lakes, through naked trees,
Cheer up, cheer up!

All beautiful and glowing,

May floats in fragrance on the breeze.

War ends in peace :—

Though dread artillery rattle,

And ghastly corpses load the ground,
Cheer up, cheer up!

Where groaned the field of battle,
The song, the dance, the feast go round.

Toil brings repose:

With noontide fervors beating,

When droop thy temples o'er thy breast,
Cheer up, cheer up!

Gray twilight, cool and fleeting,

Wafts on its wing the hour of rest.

Death springs to life:

Though brief and sad thy story,

Thy years all spent in care and gloom,
Look up, look up!

Eternity and glory

Dawn through the portals of the tomb.

MONTGOMERY.

MEET AGAIN.

"That he should gather together in one the children of God." — John xi. 52.

Love's own language, comfort darting
Through the souls of friends at parting:
Life in death, we meet again!

While we walk this vale of tears,
Compassed round with care and sorrow,
Gloom to-day, and storm to-morrow,
"Meet again!" our bosom cheers.

Far in exile when we roam,
O'er our lost endearments weeping,
Lonely, silent vigils keeping,

"Meet again!" transports us home.

When this weary world is past,
Happy they, whose spirits soaring,
Vast eternity exploring,

"Meet again" in heaven at last.

MONTGOMERY.