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sing, with steadfast voice, amid the billowy surges of Jordan. Many, like one of Bunyan's Pilgrims, pass through that dreaded flood, singing a triumphal chant, though none on this side may understand its import. Oh, Thou, who “before the mountains were brought forth, or ever Thou hadst formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting” hath swayed the sceptre of Royal Dominion, rule over our hearts now and forevermore! Thou, who holdest the key of the house of David, who openeth and no man shutteth; and shutteth and no man openeth: "In all time of our tribulation; in all time of our prosperity; in the hour of Death, and in the Day of Judgment

Good Lord, deliver us!"

A. B. G.

Ty e Beatifi < Vis i o n.

“The nations of them that are saved sball walk in the light of it.”—Rev. xxi.-24.

“Not the glitter and glory; not the diamond and topaz; no, it is God; He is all and in all."--RICHARD WATSON.

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ALK in that light !”—Oh! who are they
Whose feet shall tread that shining way?
Whose sight, undazzled, shall behold
That pavement of transparent gold?

By angels welcomed, who, oh! who
Shall
pass

those pearly portals through,
And brighten in the glorious blaze,
Of that gemm’d city's sparkling rays ?

There walk the saved: but not in light,
Of suns in sevenfold lustre bright;
Nor peerless moonbeams' silent sheen,
Reposing, soft, on velvet green:
No! nor where the hallowed radiance spreads,
From golden lamps, o'er sainted heads,
Within the temple ceaseless found,
While walk the hours their silent round.

There walk the saved: yes! they who bore,
While traversing life's stormy shore,
Through tears of blood, the hallow'd cross;
Who, purged from earth's terrestrial dross,
Received the Saviour's form impress'd,
Whose signet, on each hallowed breast
Enstamp'd the mystic name, unknown
To all but those around the throne.

Who calm, 'midst earth's tumultuous strife,
Drew from Himself that inward life
Which spirits breathe, from sense apart;
While deep in each devoted heart,
The formless glory dwelt serene,
Of old, in cherub splendor seen-
Prelude of bliss reserved above,
In perfect light, for perfect love.

Now, all is heaven! no temple there
Unfolds its gates; no voice of prayer
From that bright multitude ascends;
But holy rapture, reverent, bends
Before the Mediatorial throne;
Before the Lamb! whose beams alone
Irradiate that eternal sky;
The bursting blaze of Deity!

.

Soft is the voice of golden lutes;
Soft bloom heaven's ambrosial fruits;
Bright beams the dazzling lustre shed,
From radiant gems in order spread,
From golden streets, from emerald floors,
From crystal floods, and pearly doors,
From rainbow tints, from angel's wings,
And all unuttered glorious things.

Yet, not that city's dazzling glow,
Nor limpid water's crystal flow,
Nor dulcet harmony that springs
From golden lyres, nor angel's wings,
Though glistening with intensest dyes,
Reflected from immortal skies,
Completes the palmy bliss of those
On whom heaven's pearly portals close.

No! 'tis with unfilm'd eyes, to see
The one incarnate Deity,
Who still, in lamb-like meekness, bears
Imprinted deep, those glorious scars,
Whence issued wide that crimson flow
In which their robes were washed below,
Which bought that crown, whose splendor

bright
Now spheres them in a world of light !

No! 'tis not all that heaven can show
Of great, or fair, unglimpsed below;
Nor converse deep with spirits high
Who saw those volleyed lightnings fly
Which scathed their bright compeers in bliss,
And hurld them down to hell's abyss;
Who marked creation rise sublime,
And hymned the early birth of time:

No! not with minds like these to blend,
And feel each angel form a friend;
But God, their fount, to know and see;
From all-pervading DEITY
To catch the nearer burst of light;
To gain the beatific sight;
Entranced in glory's peerless blaze,
Conform'd to Him, on Him to gaze.

MRS. BULMER.

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