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

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The Border-Lands.

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 appall me in a place
That brings me hourly nearer thee?
When I may almost see thy face!

Surely 't is here my soul would be.

-

They say the waves are dark and deep, That faith has perished in the river; They speak of death with fear, and weep. Shall my soul perish? Never, never!

I know that thou wilt never leave

The soul that trembles while it clings To thee: I know thou wilt achieve Its passage on thine outspread wings.

And since I first was brought so near
The stream that flows to the Dead Sea,
I think that it has grown more clear
And shallow than it used to be.

The Border-Lands.

I cannot see the golden gate

Unfolding yet to welcome me; I cannot yet anticipate

The joy of heaven's jubilee.

But I will calmly watch and pray,
Until I hear my Saviour's voice,
Calling my happy soul away

To see his glory, and rejoice.

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THE TRUE LIGHT.

To thee, to all, my sinking voice,
Beloved! would fain once more proclaim,
In Christ alone may those rejoice
Deceived by every other name.

In all but Him our sins have been,
And wanderings dark of doubtful mind;
In Him alone on earth is seen

God's perfect will for all mankind.

The shadows round me close and press,
But still that radiant orb I see,

And more I seem its light to bless

Than aught near worlds could give to me.

As light and warmth to noontide hours,
To sweetest voices tuneful songs,
And as to summer fields the flowers,

So heaven to heavenly souls belongs.

DUST TO DUST.

OH blessing, wearing semblance of a curse,
We fear thee, thou stern sentence; yet to be
Linked to immortal bodies, were far worse
Than thus to be set free.

For mingling with the life-blood, through each vein

The venom of the Serpent's bite has run, And only thus might be expelled again,Thus only health be won.

Shall we not then a gracious sentence own, Now since the leprosy has fretted through The entire house, that Thou wilt take it down, And build it all anew?

Build it this time, since Thou wilt build again, An holy house where righteousness may dwell; And we, though in the unbuilding there be pain, Will still affirm, — ’T is well.