Suffering is my gain; I bow
To my heavenly Father's will,
And receive it hushed and still;
Suffering is my worship now.

Let my soul beneath her load

Faint not, through the o'erwearied flesh;

Let her hourly drink afresh

Love and peace from Thee, my God.
Let the body's pain and smart

Hinder not her flight to Thee,
Nor the calm Thou givest me;
Keep Thou up the sinking heart.

Grant me never to complain,
Make me to Thy will resigned,
With a quiet, humble mind,
Cheerful on my bed of pain.
Wholly Thine- my faith is sure,
Whether life or death be mine,
I am safe if I am Thine;

For 'tis Love that makes me pure.

RICHTER, 1713.

THE BORDER-LANDS.

FATHER, into Thy loving hands

My feeble spirit I commit,

While wandering in these Border-Lands,
Until Thy voice shall summon it.

Father, I would not dare to choose
A longer life, an earlier death;

I know not what my soul might lose
By shortened or protracted breath.

These Border-Lands are calm and still,
And solemn are their silent shades;
And my heart welcomes them, until
The light of life's long evening fades.

I hear them spoken of with dread,
As fearful and unquiet places ;
Shades, where the living and the dead
Look sadly in each other's faces.

But since Thy hand hath led me here,
And I have seen the Border-Land;

Seen the dark river flowing near,
Stood on its brink, as now I stand;

There has been nothing to alarm
My trembling soul; how could I fear
While thus encircled with Thine arm?
I never felt Thee half so near.

What should appal me in a place
That brings me hourly nearer Thee?
When I may almost see Thy face-
Surely 'tis here my soul would be.

EUPHEMIA SAXBY.

STARLIGHT.

DARKLING, methinks, the path of life is grown,

And Solitude and Sorrow close around;

My fellow-travellers one by one are gone,

Their home is reached, but mine must still be found The sun that set as the last bowed his head To cross the threshold of his resting-place, Has left the world devoid of all that made Its business, pleasure, happiness, and grace. But I have still the desert path to trace;

Not with the day has my day's work an end; And winds and shadows through the cold air chase, And earth looks dark where walked we, friend with friend.

And yet thus wildered, not without a guide,
I wander on amid the shades of night;

My home-fires gleam, methinks, and round them glide
My friends at peace, far off, but still in sight;
For through the closing gloom mine eyesight goes
Further in heaven than when the day was bright;
And there, as Earth still dark and darker grows,
Shines out, for every shade, a world of light.

MRS. ARTHUR CLIVE.

DEATH AND IMMORTALITY.

PRAYER AND THE DEAD.

HEY passed away from sight and hand,

THEY

A slow, successive train:

To memory's heart, a gathered band,
Our lost ones come again.

Not back to earth, a second time
The mortal path to tread :
They walk in their appointed clime,

The dead, but not the dead.

Their spirits up to God we gave,
With eyes as wet as dim ;
Confiding in His power to save,
For all do live to Him.

Beyond all we can know or think,

Beyond the earth and sky,

Beyond Time's lone and dreaded brink,
Their deathless dwellings lie.

Dear thoughts that once our union made,
Death does not disallow:

We prayed for them while here they stayed,
A shall hinder now?

Our Father! give them perfect day,

And portions with the blest;
Oh, pity, if they went astray,
And pardon for the best!

As they may need, still deign to bring
The helping of thy grace,

The shadow of thy guardian wing,
Or shining of thy face.

For all their sorrows here below,
Be boundless joy and peace;
For all their love, a heavenly glow
That nevermore shall cease.

O Lord of Souls! when ours shall part,
To try the farther birth,

Let Faith go journeying with the heart

To those we loved on earth.

N. L. FROTHINGHAM.

FROM "IN MEMORIAM."

XCII.

HOW pure at heart and sound in head,

With what divine affections bold,

Should be the man whose thought would hold An hour's communion with the dead.