REUNION IN HEAVEN.

IF yon bright stars, which gem the night,
Be each a blissful dwelling sphere,
Where kindred spirits reunite,

Whom death has torn asunder here,
How sweet it were at once to die,
And leave this blighted orb afar,
Mixed soul and soul to cleave the sky,
And soar away from star to star!

But O, how dark, how drear and lone,
Would seem this world of bliss,
If, wandering through each radiant one,
We failed to find the loved of this!
If there no more the ties shall twine,
That death's cold hand alone could sever,

Ah, then these stars in mockery shine,
More hateful as they shine forever.

It cannot be

each hope, each fear,

That lights the eye or clouds the brow, Proclaims there is a happier sphere

Than this black world that holds us now.

There is a voice which sorrow hears

When heaviest weighs life's galling chain; 'Tis heaven that whispers, Dry thy tears; The pure in heart shall meet again.

I WISH I WERE AT REST IN HEAVEN.

It is said that, many years ago, a young bride was kneeling at the altar, and remaining long on her knees, they raised her, and found that her spirit had departed. Her last words were, "I wish I were at rest in heaven!"

"I WISH I were at rest in heaven,
Among the faithful blest :

The soul is freed from anguish there,
The weary are at rest.

"I wish I were at rest in heaven,"

A fair girl gently sighed,

As she knelt beside the altar,

A young and lovely bride.

Rich pearls gleamed forth from her dark hair,

And diamonds without peer;

Yet grief was shadowed on her brow,

And in her eye a tear.

"I wish I were at rest in heaven :

Gently life's waters glide

In those bright realms of peace and love,
Where sorrows ne'er betide.

"I wish I were at rest in heaven:

O, sweet would be my song;
And heavenly bright my azure robe,
'Mid the angelic throng.

"I wish I were at rest in heaven,

Where reigns no care or woe;
I long in the celestial fount
To bathe my weary brow.

"I wish I were at rest in heaven;
There dwells my early guide;
I pant to clasp her to my heart,
And rest me by her side.

"Long years have passed since in my arms Was breathed her parting sigh;

6

Softly she murmured, Fare thee well!

Helena, I must die.'

"Hark! floating on the twilight air,
Sweet music wakes the gloom :
'Tis she- I hear her angel voice;
Mother! I come, I come."

The priest stood long with solemn air,
Yet moved she not her head;
Surprise, amazement, seized his frame,
And o'er his features spread.

She had become the bride of Heaven;

The weary soul had fled.

THE BIBLE.

THIS book of books I'd rather own
Than all the gold or gems

That e'er in monarchs' coffers shone-
Than all their diadems.

Nay, were the seas one chrysolite,

The earth a golden ball,

And diamonds all the stars of night,
This book were worth them all.

Here, He who died on Calvary's tree
Hath made that promise blest:
"Ye heavy-laden, come to me,
And I will give you rest;
A bruised reed I will not break,
A contrite heart despise ;
My burden's light, and all who take
My yoke shall win the skies."

Yes, yes, this book is truly worth
All else to mortals given;
For what are all the joys of earth
Compared to joys in heaven?
This is the guide our Father gave
To lead to realms of day-
A star whose lustre gilds the grave-
"The light, the life, the way."

SWEET MEMORIES.

WHEN soft stars are peeping
Through the pure azure sky,
And southern gales sweeping
Their warm breathings by,
Like sweet music pealing
Far o'er the blue sea,
There come o'er me stealing
Sweet memories of thee.

The bright rose, when faded,
Flings forth o'er its tomb

Its velvet leaves laded

With silent perfume;

Thus round me will hover

In grief, or in glee,
Till life's dream be over,
Sweet memories of thee.

As a sweet lute that lingers
In silence alone,
Unswept by light fingers

Scarce murmurs a tone,
My young heart resembled
That lute light and free,
Till o'er its chords trembled

Those memories of thee.