And while our farewell tears we pour
To those we leave on this cold shore,
To feel that we fhall weep no more,

Nor dwell in heaven alone, my soul!

How sweet, while, waning faft away,
The ftars of this dim world decay,
To hail, prophetic of the day,

The golden dawn above, my soul!
To feel we only fleep to rise
In sunnier lands and fairer skies,
To bind again our broken ties

In ever-living love, my soul!

The hour, the hour, so pure and calm,
That bathes the wounded soul in balm,
And round the pale brow twines the palm
That fhuns this wintry clime, my soul!
The hour that draws o'er earth and all
Its briers and blooms the mortal pall, -
How soft, how sweet, that evening-fall

Of fears, and grief, and time, my soul!

TIME AND ETERNITY.

T is not time that flies;

IT is

'Tis we, 't is we are flying:

It is not Life that dies;

'Tis we, 't is we are dying. Time and eternity are one; Time is eternity begun :

Life changes, yet without decay; 'Tis we alone who pass away.

It is not Truth that flies;

'T is we, 't is we are flying: It is not Faith that dies;

'Tis we, 't is we are dying. O ever-during faith and truth,

Whose youth is age, whose age is youth!

Twin stars of immortality,

Ye cannot perish from our sky.

It is not Hope that flies;

'Tis we, 't is we are flying:

It is not Love that dies;

'Tis we, 't is we are dying.

Twin ftreams, that have in heaven your birth,

Ye flide in gentle joy through earth.

We fade, like flowers befide you sown;
Ye are still flowing, flowing on.

Yet we but die to live;

It is from death we 're flying:
Forever lives our life;

For us there is no dying.
We die but as the spring-bud dies,
In summer's golden glow to rise.
These be our days of April bloom;
Our July is beyond the tomb.

H. Bonar. 1856.

ON THE THRESHOLD.

'M returning, not departing;

I'M

My fteps are homeward bound.

I quit the land of strangers
For a home on native ground.

I am rifing, and not setting;.
This is not night, but day..
Not in darkness, but in sunshine,,
Like a star, I fade away.

All is well with me forever,
I do not fear to go.

My tide is but beginning
Its bright eternal flow.

I am leaving only fhadows,
For the true and fair and good.
I must not, cannot linger;

I would not, though I could.

This is not death's dark portal,
'Tis life's golden gate to me.
Link after link is broken,
And I at last am free.

I am going to the angels,
I am going to my God;
I know the hand that beckons,
I see the holy road.

Why grieve me with your weeping,
Your tears are all in vain ;

An hour's farewell, beloved,

And we shall meet again.

Jesus, thou wilt receive me,
And welcome me above;
This sunshine which now fills me

Is thine own smile of love.

H. Bonar. 1856.

THE DEAD.

THO

HOU God of Love! beneath thy fheltering wings
We leave our holy dead,

To reft in hope! From this world's sufferings
Their souls have fled!

O, when our souls are burdened with the weight
Of life, and all its woes,

Let us remember them, and calmly wait

For our life's close!

F

RIEND after friend departs;

Who hath not loft a friend?

There is no union here of hearts

That finds not here an end:
Were this frail world our only reft,
Living or dying, none were blest.

Beyond the flight of time,

Beyond this vale of death,
There surely is some bleffed clime,
Where life is not a breath,

Anon.