enter that defileth, or maketh a lie. A pure River of the Water of Life is there, clear as crystal, and proceeding out of the throne of God. Greater than all, Christ is there!

Such a conception of heaven ravishes the soul. The Christian yearns to be within the sacred walls. He is almost impatient to hold a harp and wear a crown. While he looks upward, the vision is so enchanting that when he casts his eyes again upon the earth, it seems dismal and dreary. The sun, in its meridian, shines with the fulness of splendour over his head; but the brightness is not bright enough, and he wishes that the sky might open before his gaze, and disclose the Golden City beyond. He would have but a single other wish,— to be there, and then afterward and for ever he would be unspeakably satisfied. But awhile he waits here, and renews his courage daily from the promise" Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life.”

THE SCOTTISH BOY'S SONG.

M far from my hame, an' I'm weary aften whiles

For the langed-for hame-bringing, an' my Father's welcome smiles;

I'll ne'er be fu' content until my een do see

The gowden gates o' heaven, an' my ain countree.

The earth is flecked wi' flowers, mony-tinted, fresh and gay,
The birdies warble blithely, for my Father made them sae;

But these sights an' these soun's will as naething be to me

When I hear the angels singing in my ain countree.

I've his gude word o' promise, that some gladsome day the King

To his ain royal palace his banished hame will bring;

Wi' een an' wi' hearts running owre we shall see

The King in his beauty, an' our ain countree.

My sins hae been mony, an' my sorrows hae been sair,
But there they'll never vex me, nor be remembered mair;
His bluid hath made me white, his hand shall dry mine ee,
When he brings me hame at last to my ain countree.

Like a bairn to its mither, a wee birdie to its nest,
I wad fain be ganging noo unto my Saviour's breast;
For he gathers in his bosom witless worthless lambs like me,
An' carries them himsel' to his ain countree.

He's faithfu' that hath promised; he'll surely come again;
He'll keep his tryst wi' me, at what hour I dinna ken;
But he bids me still to watch, an' ready aye to be,
To gang at any moment to my ain countree.

So I'm watching aye, an' singing o' my hame, as I wait
For the soun'ing o' his footfa' this side the gowden gate:
God gie' his grace to ilk ane wha listens noo to me,
That we a' may gang in gladness to our ain countree.

SUDDEN DEATH AND GLORY.

THE Rev. Mr. Hall, of Arnsby (father of the celebrated Robert Hall), Mr. Evans, of Foxton, and Mr. Christian, of Sheepshed, three eminently pious ministers of the Gospel, attended a ministers' meeting at

Mr. Woodman's, Sutton-in-the-Elms, Leicestershire. The day was solemn, and the discourses delivered were very interesting and appropriate. In the evening these ministers spent their time together in the most agreeable conversation.

Among other subjects one of them proposed for discussion that passage in Job ix. 23-" If the scourge slay suddenly, he will laugh at the trial of the innocent." Deep seriousness pervaded the conversation, while each minister gave his thoughts on the text. When it came to Mr. Christian's turn to speak, he dwelt on the subject with an unusual degree of feeling. He considered it as referring to the sudden death of the righteous, and was expatiating on the desirableness of such an event, and the happy surprise with which it would be attended, when he took his flight into the world of spirits while the words were yet faltering on his tongue.

Edmeston, the poet, wrote the following beautiful lines on this solemn event:

Which is the happiest death to die?

"Oh," said one, "if I might choose,

Long at the gates of bliss would I lie,
And feast my spirit, ere it fly,

With bright celestial views.

Mine were a lingering death without pain,
A death which all might love to see;

And mark how bright and sweet would be
The victory I should gain !

"Fain would I catch a hymn of love
From the angel harps that ring above,
And sing it, as my parting breath
Quiver'd and expired in death:

So that those on earth might hear
The harp-notes of another sphere,
And mark, when nature faints and dies,
What springs of heavenly life arise;
And gather, from the death they view,
A ray of hope to light them through,
When they shall be departing too."

"No," said another, "so not I;

Sudden as thought is the death I would die;
I would suddenly lay my shackles by;
Nor bear a single glance at parting,
Nor see the tear of sorrow starting,

Nor hear the quivering lips that bless me,
Nor feel the hands of love that press me,

Nor the frame with mortal terror shaking,
Nor the heart where love's soft bands are breaking.

"So would I die !

All bliss, without a pang to cloud it;
All joy, without a pain to shroud it;
Not slain, but caught up as it were,

To meet my Saviour in the air:
So would I die!

Oh, how bright were the realms of light
Bursting at once upon my sight!

Even so I long to go:

These parting hours, how sad and slow!"

His voice grew faint, and fixed was his eye,
As if gazing on visions of ecstasy;

The hue of his cheeks and lips decayed,
Around his mouth a sweet smile played.
They look'd-he was dead!

His spirit had fled,

Painless and swift as his own desire;
His soul undrest

From her mortal vest,

Had stepp'd into her car of heavenly fire,
And prov'd how bright

Were the realms of light,

Bursting at once upon the sight!

A PROSPECT OF THE NEW JERUSALEM.

SCEND, my soul, on Pisgah stand,

From Nebo, view the promis'd land;

Direct thine eye far far above,
Beyond where rolling planets move
Their circling orbs; yea, further far
Than the remotest fixed star;
Glistering with radiant light divine,
Like jasper-stone, or chrystalline.
And spangled o'er with many a gem,
Stands glorious New Jerusalem.
Imperial palace of my God,

Twelve thousand furlongs long and broad,
Foursquare the plan, surprising sight!

Of equal length, and breadth, and height.
Pellucid gems, of brightest ray,
The city's twelve foundations lay,
Row above row, in order rise,