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“ We all will meet again!" 'neath the green
mould That wraps our kindred-may our ashes blend In peaceful sleep; till the world, waxen old
And ripe for harvest, totters to its end: Not such the meeting pictured by my longing
heart, Not such; my thoughts rush on till life from death
“ We all will meet again !" when the loud trump
To judgment summons all the slumbering host; When the Judge, shrined in heaven's tremendous
pomp, Cites to His bar the rescued and the lost! Shall we His smile receive, the benison of the blest, And hear the welcome words “enter into
“ We all will meet again!" as sinners saved, And clad in robes of Christ—his Righteous
ness, All clean and white, in His free fountain laved?
Be ours, such radiant resurrection dress! Were not my trust to greet thee on that halcyon
shore, Dear heart, this soul were stricken, grief could do “We all will meet again !”? by the blue stream That murmurs music through the perfumed
street ? Strong in such hallowed hope, my every dream
In pain, in trial, life, or death were sweet. Shall we thus meet, beloved, no parting more to
prove, Where every sound is euphony and look is love?
To meet within those walls of gorgeous blaze, That forum paved with gold and crystal
clear, Those gates of purest pearl, whose softer rays Ne'er daze the eyes undimmed by time or
tear; Where bloom the golden fruits—where sparkles
purple wine; For such immortal fare who would not earth re
To meet again! where fond affection's ties
lips chill; Nor blushing cheeks know blight; nor from dear
eyes The love-light fade away ; nor pulse grow still; Oh, plains of matchless bliss ! oh, summits
crowned with peace ! Shall we all muster there, where sorrows ever
Memory and Hope, twin gifts of buried Love, 'Twixt which the heart vibrates! withouten
these Life were a voiceless void ;—nor from above
One star would shine; no retrospection please ; Memory chaunts requiem for the pleasance passed
away, And holy Hope points smiling to eternal day.
Master, Ah Christ !' who, through the darksome
grave And gate of Death, Thy throne didst reas
Pleading Thy Passion, cry we, save, oh, save
Us, and all ours, in the dread Day of Doom! Leaning on Thee, our Staff—so will we meet again, Singing the saints' sweet song; Ainen, good Lord, Amen!
AUGUSTA BROWNE GARRETT.
Rabbi, thou art the Son of God, thou art the King of Israel.”
HE SARDIUS, or cornelian, is the precious
stone of the sixth foundation of the hea640
venly Eden, where it is sealed with the name of Bartholomew. This familiar red
stone, styled by mineralogists, from its reseinblance to bleeding flesh, the carneolus, was considered to be singularly efficacious in healing various diseases; and was also held in great repute for seals and ornaments, on account of its susceptibility of receiving a beautiful polish, and its excellent solidity, which rendered it a good subject for the burin of the artist. Many of the finest specimens of antique seals and medallions are made of this gem. It is considered by an author, whom there is no
reason to dispute, the emblem of HUMILITY; and his opinion is founded principally on the history of Reuben, to whom it appertained on the Breast-Plate, and partly on the eminent and rare qualities tradition ascribes to the stone. The cornelian is placed in pleasing contrast to its neighbors ; on the one side, the pale and elegant sardonyx, and on the other, the brilliant diamond, flashing its exuberant glories on all around. Humility supported by Love and Truth. Red is the color of salvation, and to the affecting humility and sacrifice of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Saviour of the world, we owe our redemption from eternal ruin, and our only hope of heaven.
The Confession of Faith uttered by St. Bartholomew—otherwise called Nathaniel, the man in whom was no guile—when the Saviour was made known to him, was spontaneous and emphatic: “Rabbi, thou art the Son of God, thou art the King of Israel !”
How suggestive of our humanity is the.cornelian in its resemblance to ensanguirred flesh! and what an eloquent type of our often-recurring trials, and ofttimes pierced hearts! Very consoling in the hour of the spirit's desolateness is the conviction that we have a Divine sympathizer, one who is “ touched with a feeling of our infirmities;" for, verily, a voluntary partaker therein, “He hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows;" truly,