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There sin shall never more annoy,
Tears shall be chased by smiles of joy-
Prayer end in praise, hope in delight,
And faith be changed to perfect sight.

The golden palace of my God
Tow'ring above the clouds I see :
Beyond the cherub's bright abode,
Higher than angels' thoughts can be.
How can I in those courts appear,
Without a wedding-garment on ?
Conduct me, thou Life-giver, there,
Conduct me to Thy glorious throne !
And clothe me with Thy robes of light,
And lead me through sin's daksome night,

My Saviour and my God!

RUSSIAN POETRY.

* * * * * * Jerusalem that is,
The new Jerusalem, that God has built
For those to dwell in that are chosen His,
His chosen people purg'd from sinful guilt
With pretious blood, which cruelly was spilt
On cursed tree, of that unspotted Lam,
That for the sinnes of all the world was killed :

Now are they saints all in that citty same,
More dear unto their God than younglings to their dam.

SPENSER.

We speak of the realms of the blest,

Of that country so bright and so fair, And oft are its glories confest,

But what must it be to be there !

We speak of its pathways of gold,

Of its walls deck'd with jewels so rare, Of its wonders and treasures untold,

But what must it be to be there!

We speak of its freedom from sin,

From sorrow, temptation, and care, From trials without and within,

But what must it be to be there !

We speak of its service of love,

Of the robes which the glorified wear, Of the church of the first-born above,

But what must it be to be there !

Do Thou, Lord, 'midst pleasure or woe, .

Still for heaven our spirits prepare,
And shortly we also shall know,
And feel, what it is to be there!

“ Songs OF HEAVEN.”

Where shall the weary rest?

The child of sorrow, where ?
In Jesus' arms for ever blest,

Soon shall he banish care.

Where shall the sufferer's pain,

The groan of anguish cease ?
In heaven the saints no more complain,

But all is endless peace!

Where shall temptation's power

No longer break repose ?
There comes a near and blissful hour

Which no disturbance knows.

Where shall this aching breast

With every loved one dwell ?
In worlds above they never part,

There never say, “ farewell !”

Where is the blest abode

Whence none shall ever roam ? There, in the presence of our God,

Is our eternal home!

Lord, in that happy land

From sin and sorrow free, Grant us among Thy chosen band To live in joy with Thee !

Songs OF HEAVEN.

Oh, talk to me of heaven! I love
To hear about my home above ;
For there doth many a loved one dwell
In light and joy ineffable.

Oh! tell me how they shine and sing,
While every harp rings echoing ;
And every glad and tearless eye
Beams like the bright sun gloriously :
Tell me of that victorious palm

Each hand in glory beareth ;
Tell me of that celestial calm

Each face in glory weareth.

Oh, happy, happy country! where

There entereth not a sin ; And death, who keeps its protals fair,

May never once come in.
No grief can change their day to night;
The darkness of that land is light.
Sorrow and sighing God hath sent
Far thence to endless banishment.
And never more may one dark tear

Bedim their burning eyes,
For every one they shed while here,

In fearful agonies,
Glitters a bright and dazzling gem
In their immortal diadem.

Oh, lovely, blooming country! there
Flourishes all that we deem fair.
* * * * * * *
There is the home, the land of birth
Of all we highest prize on earth.
The storms that rack this world beneath

Must there for ever cease ;
The only air the blessed breathe

Is purity and peace.

Oh, happy, happy land ! in thee
Shines the unveiled Divinity,
Shedding through each adoring breast
A holy calm, a halcyon rest.
And those blest souls whom death did sever,
Have met to mingle joys for ever.
Oh! soon may heaven unclose to me!
Oh! may I soon that glory see !
And my faint, weary spirit stand
Within that happy, happy land! -

BOWLES.

In heav'n, that holy, happy place,

I soon shall know as I am known,-
And see my Saviour face to face,

And meet, rejoicing round His throne,
The faithful souls made perfect there
From earthly stains and mortal care !

Mrs. SOUTHEY.

TO MY MOTHER IN HEAVEN.
Blessed spirit ! now at rest,
Peaceful on thy Saviour's breast !
Never more shall sorrow rend thee,
Never more shall pain distress thee !
Forgotten now the mournful past,
“ Thou hast found the Dove at last !"

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