AN ACROSTIC.

BE thine to know, be thine to feel,
In life's last years thy Saviour near;
R eft from sin's power, may o'er thee steal
Thrice happy peace and holy fear;
Held fast in His sustaining hand,
Darkness and death in vain combine;
A rrived in yonder shining land,
You'll own His care and love divine.

Come, oh come! from haunts of sin,

To yon banquet-house we'll turn;

He may gladly take us in:

"Tis said with love His heart doth burn.

Let us go! Oh let us go!

Whether we be pure or no.

Come, oh come! they say He's able,
To do anxious sinners good;

Seat us welcome at His table,

Feed us with His holy food. Let us enter! let us see

If there's aught for thee and me.

Come, oh come! they say He's willing
An unending life to give ;
Souls with joy eternal filling,

In the home where He doth live.
Let us trust Him. Loving Jesus
From this dire unrest release us!

Come, oh come! may we not drink
From that sacred cup of blood?
Snatch'd, by grace, from misery's brink,
Sav'd from wrath's o'erwhelming flood;

Let us at His feast sit down,

And all our rankling sorrows drown.

THE DEPARTED.

WHEN lov'd friends from earth are going
Leaving those who still would cling,
Oft the thought is found o'erflowing,
Life is but a changeful thing.

Fair the treasures love hath given;
Deep though fixed within the heart

Bending to the will of Heaven,

All those precious gifts depart.

But the holy recollection

Of the forms, where once they shone, Still retains the sweet affection,

When their spirits long have gone.

See the lineaments, where 'twining, Play'd the soul 'midst beauty's grace ; Fresh the bloom that, health combining, Once o'erspread that vanished face.

L

Mark the eye, in fancy beaming,
Meeting still the glance of thine;
Anxious too, though gleeful seeming,
All its inmost thoughts divine.

And the voice that late had spoken
Words so gentle, pure, and brave,
Scarce the chain of speech seems broken,
Rising upward from the grave.

Still those well-known tones are ringing
Sounds of joy or kind rebuke;
Often fitful dreams are bringing

Back each dear and tender look.

What though true that Death's cold finger Seal'd the lip and clos'd the eye,

And although the shadows linger

Where those sleeping treasures lie—

Yet there comes a bright awaking,

Passing far the loveliest dream : O'er the hills of time is breaking Light from an eternal beam.

Where the parent, sister, brother;

All who loved and all who weep— Nigh to Him-there is no other—

Endless jubilee shall keep.