may live as children of a Father who is in another country, and as wanderers, whose home is far away. Well for us to remember that in a little while these eyes will fail, this strong hand will sink down, this tongue will sob its last, and all the bravery and beauty of life, and all its glory and fashion, and all its circumstance and pomp, will be nothing to us, and this mortal shadow will pass away like the thin mists of a morning dream;-that our very name will be painted out from the highways, and our grave be forgotten under the long, rank grass. Ah me! is it such a sad question to ask-where shall we be when all the shadows of life have passed away? Thanks be to God, through Jesus Christ our Lord, we may know. In that high world where the Lord God walks amid the things that He has made immortal,-in that sweet home" where an enemy never entered, and whence a friend did never go away,"in those dear streets that never echoed but to the tread of pure and blessed feet,-in those bright fields "where every flower that creeps through death's dark portal becomes immortal," there we may walk with the sin-stain taken from our hearts, and the tears wiped from our faces, and the fret and fever kissed from our souls:-there we may meet before High God, in the true bodies that now are hidden beneath the weak and shadowy ones; and we shall

know, at length, that this is indeed the land of shadows, and that the world of spirits is the only real world, for that "the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are unseen are eternal.”

HY should we weep for those who die—
For those who die in faith and love?

Do we believe the ancient word

The promise of our faithful Lord,

That broke the silence from above?

Full well we know the promise fair,

But ah! how tremblingly believe

That they who die in Christ are blest,-
That they have entered into rest,

In that dear home where none can grieve!

Sweetly we sing the hallowed strain,

And tell our glad faith all around;
And yet, if Death but touch the hand,
If but one shadow shroud the land,

Our hearts are stricken to the ground.

Our hearts are stricken to the ground,

And drink the cup of life with fear,
While gentle Hope, by Mercy given,
And all the shining ranks of Heaven,
Are hidden by the mortal bier.

Poor faithless hearts-so strong, so weak-
So strong in word, so weak in deed!
When shall we look with undimm'd eyes
On the fair writing of the skies,

And all God's message rightly read?

Come, gentle Hope, and trustful Love!

And dwell with Patience near our pain:
Then Grief shall change her plaintive cry;
The dead shall live, and Death shall die,
And Heaven shall be our own again.

HOLINESS.

OLINESS is a condition of the soul; not a kind of action, or method of life. A man might spend his life in doing what may be called worthy

deeds, and yet, if beneath all, there were self-seeking, pride, and conceit, every such deed would be hollow, rotten, and unholy. "Except your righteousness shall exceed the righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees, ye shall in no wise enter the kingdom of Heaven," said Jesus Christ. For the righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees consisted in external (not necessarily hypocritical) deeds and observances, while the heart was the nursery of every unhallowed passion, and the throne of most hateful conceit and pride; and therefore, all their outward virtues and pompous goodness went for nothing, and worse than nothing; and that, not because these external acts of theirs were pretences, but just because they were merely outward.

Again, a man may avoid sin because he is afraid of the consequences; or he may do right because he does not dare to do wrong, or because he covets the reward of well-doing; but he is far from holiness, if he has only got thus far. It is when the soul shrinks from sin because it is sinful-clinging to goodness because it is good, and following after holiness because it is like God, that the soul may be said to be holy.

We might tie a beautiful apple to some branch of a barren tree, but it would not make the tree any the less worthless, or any the more fruitful; and so a man may tie many a good sort of action to his life, but as

it does not grow out of the living root of him, but is only outward, the action will make no difference to his true character. We might even cover the barren tree with finest apples, carefully tied on to the branches, and skilfully arranged to deceive the keenest eye, but the poor tree would remain just what it was. So with the life of man-no number of good deeds tied on to a life can make it holy. The holy deeds will grow out of holiness, though holiness has nothing to do with outward seemings.

It will readily be seen then, that a holy life is not a life filled with a certain kind of conduct, but a life that is the outgrowth of a certain condition of the soul. Hence the truth, that every action-the most trivial and common-place, may be holy, because springing from rightness of heart. Thus common work may be made fairest devotion; and every stroke upon the anvil, and every chip of the chisel, may be as truly religious as the singing of a psalm. Did not the ancient prophet think of this when he spake of the latter-day glory, and said that "on the bells of the horses," should be written "Holiness unto the Lord"? For even the horses' bells may be very made holy by true holy use. Fatal and miserable

then is the mistake men make whenever they suppose that certain kinds of action are holy in themselves, to the exclusion of others.