These, these have overcome the world-they conquered in Thy might,

On harps of gold they sing Thy praise, and walk with Thee in white !

There they enjoy for evermore, in that bright world of

bliss,

A more than ample recompense for all the toils of this! And shall we murmur, doubt or faint ?—Oh ! rest assured there lies,

Within each faithful Christian's reach, the same allglorious prize;

From the same blessed source obtained—a fountain full and free

Oh! draw our hearts in faith and hope, Redeemer, unto Thee!

A WORD OF COMFORT.

COMFORT take, thou child of sorrow
All is ordered well for thee;
Look not to the anxious morrow,

"As thy day, thy strength shall be."

Child of grief, does this world move thee?
Transient scene of transient pain!
Think! oh think! of worlds above thee,
Countless worlds-a glorious train !

There are mansions now preparing
For the chosen sons of God-
Here, a pilgrim and wayfaring,
There shall be thy long abode !

There shalt thou abide for ever

With thy best and greatest Friend;
Nought from Him thy soul shall sever,

In a world that knows no end.

There amidst assembled nations,
Eye to eye, and face to face;
Thou shalt see thy tribulations
Sent as messengers of grace.
Comfort take, thou child of sorrow,
All is ordered well for thee;
Look not to the anxious morrow,
"As thy days, thy strength shall be."

CHRIST PRECIOUS.

"Unto you therefore who believe, He is precious."-1 Pet. ii. 7.

MEN may trouble and distress me,
'Twill but drive me to Thy breast;
Life with trials hard may press me,
Heaven will bring me sweeter rest.
Oh, 'tis not in grief to harm me,
While Thy love is left to me ;
Oh! 'twere not in joy to charm me,
Were that joy apart from Thee.

AT HOME IN HEAVEN.

"So shall we ever be with the Lord."-1 Thess. iv. 17.

"FOREVER with the Lord!"

Amen-so let it be !

Life from the dead is in that word,

'Tis immortality.

Here in the body pent,

Absent from Him I roam,

Yet nightly pitch my moving tent,

A day's march nearer home.

My Father's home on high,
Home of my soul how near;
At time's to Faith's foreseeing eye
Thy golden gates appear!

Ah! then my spirit faints,

To reach the land I love,
The bright inheritance of saints,
Jerusalem above!

But clouds will intervene
And all my prospect flies,
Like Noah's dove, I flit between
Rough seas and stormy skies.

Anon-the clouds depart,

The winds and waters cease,
And sweetly o'er my troubled heart
Expands the bow of peace.

Beneath its glowing arch,
Along the hallowed ground,
I see cherubic armies march,
A camp of fire around.

I hear at morn and even,

At noon and midnight hour, The choral harmonies of Heaven Earth's babel tongues o'erpower.

Then-then I feel that He,

Remembered or forgot,

The Lord is never far from me,
Though I perceive Him not.

In darkness or in light,

Hidden alike from view,

I wake and sleep, as in His sight
Who looks existence through.

All that I am-have been,
All that I yet may be,

He sees as He has ever seen,
And will forever see.

How can I meet His eyes?
Mine on the cross I cast,

And own my life a Saviour's prize—
Mercy from first to last.

Be Thou at my right hand,

Then can I never fail ;

Uphold Thou me, and I shall stand;
Fight, and I must prevail.

So when my latest breath

Shall rend the veil in twain,

By death I shall escape from death,
And life eternal gain.

Knowing as I am known,

How shall I love that word!

And oft repeat before the throne,

"For ever with the Lord!"

JAMES MONTGOMERY.

THE CHRISTIAN'S REST.

"There remaineth therefore a rest for the people of God."-HEB. iv. 9

My rest is in Heaven, my rest is not here,

Then why should I murmur when trials are near?
Be hushed my sad spirit, the worst that can come,
But shortens thy journey and hastens thee home.
It is not for me to be seeking my bliss,
And building my hopes in a region like this;
I look for a city which hands have not piled;
I pant for a country by sin undefiled.

The thorn and the thistle around me may grow;
I would not lie down upon roses below

I ask not my portion, I seek not my rest,
Till I find them for ever on Jesus' breast!
Afflictions may damp me, they cannot destroy,
One glimpse of His love turns them all into joy ;
And the bitterest tears, if He smiles but on them,
Like the dew in the sunshine, grow diamond and gem!
Let doubt then and danger my progress oppose,
They only make heaven more sweet at the close;
Come joy or come sorrow, whate'er may befall,
An hour with my God will make up for them all!
A scrip on my back, and a staff in my hand,
I march on in haste through the enemy's land;
The road may be rough, but it cannot be long,
And I'll smooth it with hope, and I'll cheer it with song.

THE GOD OF COMFORT.

How sweet to think in sorrow's hour,
That He who reigns above,

Although supreme in sovereign power,
Is as supreme in LOVE.

How sweet to know, where thus the axe
Is to our gourds decreed,

He will not quench the smoking flax,
Nor break the bruised reed.

But that to those who kiss the rod,
By Him in mercy sent,

The staff of comfort from their God,
Shall in His love be lent.

Sustained by this, with hopes serene,
Though earth's best joys seem gone,
On this, like Jacob, they shall lean,
And worship Him thereon.