THE PLEASANT GARDEN

The pleasant garden, and the crystal stream,
The tree of life which bears on every bough
Fruits fit for joy or healing; on the brow,
Of glorious gold a living diadem;

The thrones which blaze with many a radiant gem;
The branching palms; the raiment white as snow:
Are these the joys that heaven's abodes bestow?
Or may they rather earth-formed figures seem
Of heavenly bliss?—To me' it matters not,

If I but reach the mark, whate'er the prize
Of God's high calling. Be content that what
Is told, is told us by the only Wise:
And blest, supremely blest, must be the lot,

Which Christ hath purchased, and which God supplies.

THE ROYAL DIADEM

409

The thoughts henceforth which a Christian should indulge in his expiring moments would be not those of dread of this ghastly monarch, but of praise to the heavenly Conqueror who had delivered him from his power. No wonder he shouts: "The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." A lady visiting the Paris Exposition lay dying in her hotel far away from her home and the friends of her youth. stood around anxious to catch any word which might escape her lips. At last they heard her whisper, "Bring." They placed her child by her Watchers side. She still said, "Bring." They brought her flowers and refreshing water. They were puzzled to know what she meant. all her strength, while a smile played over her face, she exclaimed: At last summoning

Bring forth the royal diadem
And crown Him Lord of all,-

and so expired.-M. B. Wharton.

THE VIRGIN MARY TO THE CHILD JESUS
Perchance this sleep that shutteth out the dreary
Earth-sounds and motions, opens on thy soul
High dreams on fire with God;

High songs that make the pathways where they roll
More bright than stars do theirs; and visions new

Thus noiseless, thus. Sleep, sleep, my dreaming one!

-Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

Wait a little while, O, my soul, wait for the divine promise, and thou shalt

have abundance of all good things in heaven.

SLEEP OF DEATH

No doubt the word "sleep" is used of death, over and over again in Scripture. When Stephen was martyred he "fell asleep." Paul says, "I would not have you be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not even as others who have no hope. For if ye believe that Jesus died, and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him," and again he says, "We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed."

From this style of expression we have adopted our word cemetery, which means the sleeping-place, a beautiful name, surely, for the last resting place of the holy dead. Sleep implies an awaking. When you lie down in your bed at night, you expect to rise again to the activities of life, in the morning. We always expect such awaking. And so with death. When we perform the last kindly offices to our departed, when we close their eyes and lay them to rest in the narrow bed in the narrow house, we expect those eyes to open again. “Thy dead men shall live; together with my dead body shall they arise." The sleep of the grave may be long, but it will not be forever. "All they that sleep in the dust of earth shall awake."-Thos. Hamilton, D.D.

But there was a joy set before Emmanuel, and for the sake of that joy, he counted the price of human life small; for he knew that education of human life was necessary. That joy, in part, we may know, here and now. Those we have lost from our side in the night, are even now knowing it more fully than we can-the joy of a life where the inhabitants shall not say "I am sick "; the joy of a land where the people who dwell therein shall be forgiven their iniquity. W. S. Rainsford, D.D.

"OPEN A WINDOW"

The lady of Sir Stamford Raffles, in India, was overwhelmed with grief for the loss of a favorite child, unable to bear the sight of her other children, unable to bear even the light of day. She was lying upon her couch, with a feeling of desolation that was fast growing into despair, when she was addressed by a poor, ignorant woman, one of the natives, who had been employed in the nursery: "I am come," said the servant, "because you have been here many days shut up in a dark room, and no one dares to come near you. Are you not ashamed to grieve in this manner, when you ought to be thanking God for having given you the most beautiful child that ever was seen? Did any one ever see him or speak of him without admiring him? And, instead of letting this child continue in this world till he should be worn out with trouble and sorrow, has not God taken him to heaven in all his beauty? What would you have more? For shame! leave off weeping, and let me open a window."

It is not always wise to bid a mourner “leave off weeping." Tears are sometimes good for the soul. That grief is very bitter which can not find tears. I have often wished that they would come, and relieve this dry and dreadful pressure on the heart. But if we do not cease to weep, by all means let us open the window. Let us have the light of God's countenance shining upon us like the sun at noon. To shut ourselves up in the dark to brood over our sorrows, is the worst of all remedies for grief. To cherish our afflictions, as if they were to be indulged, and petted, and kept fresh as long as possible, and as if it were wrong for us to go out into the world, and mingle in the duties and pleasures of social Christian life, is a sinful yielding to the power of a dispensation that was not designed to be thus received.

A HUSBAND'S TRIBUTE

The following beautiful lines were written by an aged gentleman to his wife on the fifty-fourth anniversary of their marriage:

Yes, we go gently down the hill of life,
And thank our God at every step we go;
The husband-lover and the sweetheart-wife;
Of creeping age what do we care or know?

Each says to each: Our four-score years, twice told

What is the grave to us? Can it divide
The destiny of two by God made one?
We step across, and reach the other side,
To know our blended life is but begun.
These fading faculties are sent to say:

Heaven is more near to-day than yesterday! —M. B. C.