THE WORSHIP OF HEAVEN.

"And I saw no temple therein."

WHAT turrets blend with yonder sky?
What strains symphonious float afar?
Now sweeps the Heavenly Vision nigh,
Leaving, eclipsing, every star.

Jerusalem its hallowed name

To this unfolding City lends:

Its images of mighty fame

Swell forth, as slowly it descends.

That name transports to olden time,
Deep, solemn, feeling it recalls :
But fades at once the type sublime
Before these jasper-flaming walls!

And yet no Temple rears its pile

Among those structures grand and fair:

The palaces of Salem smile,

Her Shrine is strangely wanting there.

Fitly forgotten is that Frame,

And fitly, too, its site unknown : The Lord Almighty and the Lamb Build here Their Sanctuary-Throne.

Their Light, the Holiest contains!
Their Glories, the Shechinah blaze!
A God in Christ, when worshipped, deigns
To form the Temple for that praise!

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In His own uncreated mind,

In His own infinite regard,

Alone shall His redeemed find

Their praise, indwelling, and reward!

"OF SUCH IS THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN.”

O WHERE is the Land of the Blest?

Yon clouds, and those stars, far above:

No footstep toward it ever pressed,

Nor wing of the quick-flying dove!
Still gaze but on sanctified youth,—

When grace has expelled "the old leaven,”-
"T is meekness, simplicity, truth:

"T is here is the Kingdom of Heaven!

O what is the Land of the Blest?
How dazzling, how wealthy, how pure!
Of pleasures eternal possessed,

And splendours which endless endure !
Rather think of the little one's smile,

When in infancy's slumber at even,
There flees all its passion and guile,—
Like that is the Kingdom of Heaven !

O who in that Land of the Blest

Shall share so distinguished a place?
And shall lie on the Saviour's breast ?-
The millions, new-born, of our race.

The Child of the Manger has bled!
The bond of their sin is thus riven !
The dew of our youth is but shed

To spangle the Kingdom of Heaven!

LINES SUGGESTED BY THE THOUGHT

OF THE

ALMOST INCREDULOUS SURPRISE THE CHRISTIAN WILL FEEL ON FINDING HIMSELF IN HEAVEN.

YES, 't is Heaven! Doubt no more!
These palace-mansions speak it true!
Weary footsteps find this shore,

And here immortal strength renew.
Pilgrim rest! Thy wanderings close
In these climes of sweet repose.

Yes, 't is Heaven! Hark the songs
Of hard-fought victories fill the sky!
Countless hands from conquering throngs
The palm-branch wave and toss on high.
Warrior rest! Thy weapons sheath,—
Twine around thee glory's wreath.

Marks the oppressor's gloomy reign!

See the foe, that held us, fall!

List to the breaking of his chain !
Bondman rest! Henceforth thou 'rt free,
This thy dawn of jubilee.

Yes, 't is Heaven! He is here

In whom the fatherless confide! Hushed is every panting fear

While in our Father's breast we hide. Orphan rest! No longer roam,— Enter thine eternal home.

Yes, 't is Heaven! Gaze around,
No mourners go about the streets!
Breezes bear no funeral sound,

No dust upon the coffin beats.
Mourner rest! No tears are shed
For the dying or the dead.

Yes! 't is Heaven! Soft th' expanse
That smooths the living river's flow!
Golden sunbeams o'er it glance,—

Nor billows rise nor tempests blow.
Voyager rest! No rock to shun,—
Leave the helm, thy port is won.

Yes, 't is Heaven! Pilgrim, blest,
And Warrior, Exile, Bondman, hail!
Orphan, Mourner, Voyager, rest !—

This long-sought refuge ne'er can fail.
Christian rest! For oh, in Thee
These diversities agree!

THE CROSS OF CHRIST.

CROSS of my Lord! In thee I view
Of saving truth each form and hue:
Thou art the everlasting Sign
In which all saving acts combine!

Thine to Atone! Resenting wrong
Done by our race,―vast as its throng,-
Wide as its bound,-which to the skies
Sent its foul, daring, injuries!

To Satisfy! It paid the debt
Of human guilt and legal threat :
For past and future can account,
Cancelling all the vast amount !

To Expiate! The very stains
Of sin, the soul no more retains :
Conscience is purged in the rich flood
Of this most holy, cleansing, Blood!

To Reconcile ! It makes us nigh,
Children and friends of God most High:
Saved from wrath, redeemed from curse,
His love we sing, His praise rehearse!

We see the wood, the knife, the Lamb! There darts from heaven the kindling flame!

The real, one, only, Sacrifice

From which sweet savour could arise !