I fain would think that they shall be

With their sweet looks of love,
Among the many pleasant things
That we shall meet above.
If they are even perfect here,
Where storms and tempests rise,
What would they be if blossoming
Beneath celestial skies?

There they would never droop their leaves
Or cease their scented breath;
Their tender veins would not be chill'd

Beneath the frosts of death;

An immortality of bloom

Would thus to them be given;

The faintest rose-tint could not fade-
There is no death in heaven.

The Rest of Heaven.

WHO are the happy? Dwell they here,
Where earthly sorrows grow ?
No! in yon bright, celestial sphere,
They 'scape from change and woe.

The unfading garden of the soul
'Tis their delight to dress,
While from eternal fountains roll
Full tides of happiness.

On them no baleful sun shall cast
A fervid, fatal ray,-

Nor tempest rise with whelming blast
To sweep their hopes away;

No rose with piercing thorn shall wound,
No bitter streamlet flow,-

No serpent coiled 'mid flowers be found
To dart the sting of woe.

How came they to that glorious place ?—
Rise! when the dawn is dim,

And kneel before your Maker's face,
And humbly ask of Him.

Go, seek the grace of Him who died

On Calvary's purple breast,

Your weak and wayward steps to guide

To Heaven's unbroken rest.

CHRISTIAN UNION.

The Erring.

THINK gently of the erring,
Ye know not of the power
With which the dark temptation came,
In some unguarded hour.
Ye may not know how earnestly

They struggled, or how well,
Until the hour of weakness came,
And sadly thus they fell.

Think gently of the erring,
Oh, do not thou forget,
However darkly stained by sin,
He is thy brother yet.

Heir of the self-same heritage;
Child of the self-same God;
He hath but stumbled in the path
Thou hast in weakness trod.

Speak gently to the erring,

For is it not enough

That innocence and peace have gone,

Without your censure rough?

It sure must be a weary lot

That sin-crushed heart to bear, And they who share a happier fate, Their chidings well may spare.

Speak kindly to the erring,

Thou yet mayest lead them back,
With holy words, and tones of love,
From misery's thorny track.
Forget not thou hast often sinned,
And sinful yet must be,--
Deal gently with the erring one,
As God hath dealt with thee.

The Lost Art.

"OH trust not, youth, the visions fair,

That charm thy ravished heart;

But in the Galleries dim and old,

More wondrous visions shalt thou behold.

There study thine ancient art.

"There worship the great old Masters,

There copy their Works sublime,

These shall an Inspiration give,

That shall make thy humble work outlive

The annals of thy time."

And mildly answered the artist,

"A gallery have I

That girdles this beautiful earth around,
That reaches the mystic dim profound,
Its roof the vaulted sky.

And deep within the studio

Of my awed and ravished soul,Painting forever in silence there, His canvas wonderfully fair

The MASTER doth unroll.

Where studied these ancient artists?
Who gave them their wondrous skill?

In Nature's Gallery divine

They worshiped at Thought's interior shrine,

With God their Master still."

JAMES RICHARDSON, JR.