Sung at Mont-Lawn, THE CHRISTIAN HERALD Children's Home, Nyack-on-the Hudson, New York.

A HOME FOR LITTLE CHILDREN*

There's a friend for little children, above the bright blue sky,
A friend who never changes, whose love will never die;
Our earthly friends may fail us, and change with changing years,
This friend is always worthy of that dear name He bears.

There's a home for little children, above the bright blue sky.
Where Jesus reigns in glory, a home of peace and joy;
No home on earth is like it, nor can with it compare;
For every one is happy, nor could be happier there.

There's a song for little children, above the bright blue sky,
A song that will not weary, though sung continually;
A song which even angels can never, never sing;

They know not Christ as Saviour, but worship him as King.

There's a crown for little children, above the bright blue sky,
And all who look for Jesus shall wear it by and by;
All, all above is treasured, and found in Christ alone:
Lord, grant thy little children to know thee as their own.

*Sung at Mont-Lawn, THE CHRISTIAN HERALD Children's Home, Nyack-on-the-Hudson, New York.

WHEN EARTH REBLOOMS

God destroys only to create something more beautiful; and upon the ruins. of the sentenced and purified world his hand raises up another which-not only for the cleansed vision of its new inhabitants, but in a reality as yet to us unknown-shall bloom in unfading splendor. If we mistake not, the last page of the Apocalypse especially opens up to us the prospect of a new order of things, in which the old boundary-line between heaven and earth is effaced, and this latter, now inhabited by perfectly redeemed ones, itself has become part of heaven.-J. Van Oosterzee.

THE GRANDCHILD IN HEAVEN

In a

His only grandson and namesake, who was born on November 7, 1897, was taken home November 30, 1898, while Mr. Moody was absent in Colorado. letter to the parents, written from Colorado Springs, he said:

"I know Dwight is having a good time, and we should rejoice with him. What would the mansions be without children? He was the last to come into our circle, and he is the first to go up there! So safe, so free from all the sorrow that we are passing through! I do thank God for such a life. It was nearly all smiles and sunshine, and what a glorified body he will have; and with what joy he will await your coming? God does not give us such strong love for each other for a few days or years, but it is going to last forever, and you will have the dear little man with you for ages and ages, and love will keep increasing. The Master had need of him or he would not have called him, and you should feel highly honored that you had anything in your home that he wanted.

“I cannot think of him as belonging to earth. The more I think of him the more I think he was only sent to us to draw us all closer to each other, and up to the world of light and joy. I could not wish him back if he could have all earth could give him. And then the thought that the Saviour will take such good care of him! No going astray, no sickness, no death. Dear, dear little fellow! I love to think of him; so sweet, so safe, and so lovely! His life was not only blameless, but faultless; and if his life here was so sweet, what will it be up there? I believe the only thing he took away from earth was that sweet smile, and I have no doubt that when he saw the Saviour he smiled as he did when he saw you, and the word that keeps coming to my mind is this: It is well with the child. Only think of his translation! Thank God, Dwight is safe at home; and we shall all of us see him soon. Your loving father, D. L. Moody." -Life of Moody by His Son.

O weary hearts! O slumbering eyes!
O drooping souls, whose destinies
Are fraught with fear and pain,

Ye shall be loved again! -Longfellow.

This life is like the seed; the resurrection life, like the plant that grows from the seed. Who would dream that all the strength and beauty of an oak was enclosed in the acorn? Who would imagine that the radiance and fragrance of the rose could develop from the seed of the rose, or the brilliance of a tulip from a bulb? How could a seed under ground, if it had consciousness, obtain any faintest idea of what the springtime world is above ground; or from its own form, mouldering into dust, what its nature, and surroundings,

and work would be when it grew into the air and sunlight? Or suppose some inhabitant of another world should visit this world in winter, and looking at the seeds and bulbs in the seed store, or the bare trees in the fields, should be told what they were to become in spring. How could you make known the fact if he hesitated to believe? You would take him to a greenhouse and let him see specimens, the actual results of seeds planted. Now Jesus raised from the dead is a specimen, a fact, which proves what may be true of men.

NO SECTS IN HEAVEN

Talking of sects quite late one eve,
What one and another of saints believe,
That night I stood in a troubled dream.
By the side of a darkly-flowing stream,
And a "churchman" down to the river came,
When I heard a strange voice call his name:
"Good father, stop; when you cross this tide
You must leave your robes on the other side."
But the aged father did not mind,
And his long gown floated out behind,
As down to the stream his way he took,
His hands hold firm of a gilt-edged book.
"I'm bound for heaven, and when I'm there
I shall want my Book of Common Prayer;
And though I put on a starry crown,

I shall feel quite lost without my gown."

Then he fixed his eyes on the shining track,
But his gown was heavy, and held him back;
And the poor old father tried in vain.
A single step in the flood to gain.
I saw him again on the other side,
But his silk gown floated on the tide,
And no one asked, in that blissful spot,
If he belonged to "the church" or not.
Then down to the river a Quaker strayed,
His dress of sober hue was made,
"My hat and coat must be all of gray,

I cannot go any other way."

Then he buttoned his coat straight up to his chin,

And staidly, solemnly waded in,

And his broad-brimmed hat he pulled down tight
Over his forehead, so cold and white.