SONGS IN DEATH.

"How are the dead raised up, and with what body do they come?

HE waves, they are wildly heaving

THE

And bearing me out from the shore,
And I know of the things I am leaving,

But not of the things before.

O Lord of Love, whom the shape of a dove
Came down and hovered o'er,
Descend to-night with heavenly light,
And show me the farther shore.

There is midnight darkness o'er me,
And 'tis light, more light, I crave;
The billows behind and before me
Are gaping each with a grave;
Descend to-night, O Lord of might,
Who died our souls to save;
Descend to-night, my Lord, my Light,
And walk with me on the wave!

My heart is heavy to breaking
Because of the mourners' sighs,
For they cannot see the awak'ning

Nor the body with which we arise.
Thou, who for sake of men didst break
The awful seal of the tomb-

Show them the way into life, I pray,
And the body with which we come!

Comfort their pain and pining

For the nearly wasted sands, With the many mansions shining

In the house not made with hands:

And help them by faith to see through death
To that brighter and better shore,

Where they never shall weep who are fallen asleep,
And never be sick any more.

ALICE CARY.

"Break, O Morning of the Everlasting Day!"

EE how the far east brightens !

SEF

Hear ye the angels singing,

Through morning's fresh'ning breath?
No darkness longer frightens :
Now, rich with mercy, bringing
Your help, comes gracious Death.

Then give him friendly greeting,
He will be friendly too,

And bring, each joy completing,
His olden bliss to you.

To him-whose near end stealing Through heart and limb presages night,— Who kneeling,

Who kneeling, sure appealing,

Turns soul and hands

Where Mercy stands,

The Lord will make it light.

Tr. from FouQUÉ, by ANDREWS.

I

AM going away, dear friend,
Away to a brighter land;

And even now, as the shadows fall,
I wait the voice of the Angel's call

And the touch of the Angel's hand.

The way hath been long, dear friend,
Weary and long and lone;

And oh the pain of the wounded heart,
The silent pang and the secret smart!
May they never to thee be known.

Yet bright was the prospect, friend,

When the path before me lay;

When love's sweet blossoms were round my feet,
And the far-off future lay clear and sweet
In the flush of rising day.

Oh! beautiful dreams of youth!

Oh! visions that fade so soon!

And oh the desolate, dreary way,

When back we look through the darkened day
To the sun that set ere noon.

But the journey at last is o'er

And the struggle and toil are past;

And the holy angels who led me on

Till the fight was fought and the victory won,
They have brought me home at last.

Home, to an endless rest;

Home to my Father-God;

And I bless his name, that through wrong and loss, I have borne the weight of the iron cross,

And the thorny path have trod.

Oh! sweet is the thought and strange,
That so near unto Him I stand;

That ere the shadows of night shall close
I shall drink of the River of Life that flows
In the beautiful Spirit Land!

That my mother's hand I shall clasp
And my father's smile shall see ;
And oh the thrill of the glad surprise
When I meet the gaze of the dearest eyes
That ever gleamed on me!

I know they are near me now;

I know that they stand and wait;
And I feel the flush of a love divine,
And a light as of heaven about me shine
As I kneel at the golden gate.

And lo! the gates ajar,

And the light of immortal day!

I see the angels; I hear their call;
And earth falls back like a gloomy pall,

As they bear my soul away!

SUSAN ARCHER WEISS.

T evening time let there be light :

AT

Life's little day draws near its close;
Around me fall the shades of night,
The night of death, the grave's repose:
To crown my joys, to end my woes,
At evening time let there be light.