HEAVEN.

Is the spirit-land in the bending sky,
In its depths of unfathomed blue,
In regions unknown to the clouded eye
Of our dim and earthly view?

Will its bliss be found in those shining ways,
That are pouring their glories down
From countless millions of starry rays;
Is there the eternal crown?

'Tis not in the paths of the clouded sky,
It is not in the stars of light,

Nor in azure depths unknown to the eye,
That are hidden from human sight.

It is found in the robe of holiness,

In the life unstained by sin,

In the narrow way of the pure in heart, "The kingdom of God is within.”

"T is found at the holy shrine of prayer, In the peace the world has not given; "Tis found in the spirit that waits for us there, THE PRESENCE OF GOD IS HEAVEN.

CHILDREN IN HEAVEN.

"My Lord hath need of these flowerets gay,"
The Reaper said, and smiled;
"Dear tokens of the earth are they,
Where he was once a child."

In the broad fields of heaven,
Amid undying flowers,
Dwelling by Life's clear river,
In the immortal bowers;

Myriads of beauteous spirits,
Fair children of the earth,

Linked in bright bands celestial,
Sing of their human birth.

They sing of earth and heaven; Divinest voices rise

In thanks and praises unto Him,

Who called them to the skies.

CHILDREN IN HEAVEN.

The golden-haired, the blue-eyed,
That lighted up our life,

And folded were within our hearts

From all the world's rude strife.

The blessings of our bosoms,
The stars upon our sky,

The flowers springing in our path,
Too beautiful to die;

They all are there, in heaven,

Safe, safe, and sweetly blessed;

No cloud of sin can shadow

Their bright and holy rest.

145

A JOURNAL IN RHYME.

WRITTEN IN THE TROPICS.

AUNTIE dear, your little Grace
Cannot see you face to face,
Because the great and mighty sea
Is rolling between you and me,
So I think I'll write a journal
In this land of all things vernal.
I'll write a little every day
And tell you all I do and say.
Just now I am só very sad,

I fear I never can be glad,

For Nona, who came with me here,
And is to me so very dear,

Who loved me, kissed me, curled my hair,

And rocked me in her rocking chair,

Nona has gone from me away,

And this is my life's darkest day.