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Tlye Vision of the Dying.

LATE young gentleman, of Pittsburg, remarked, when he was dying, “Mother, I can see a great distance !” Doubtless thts is the experience, beautifully ex

pressed, of every one who comes with a chastened faith to a calm death-bed. In his progress through ordinary life, the vapors that float in the mental atmosphere render the vision imperfect, and he cannot see afar off; but as he draws near eternity, the air grows purer, the light brighter, the vision clearer, and the serenity pervades the whole being; the vista of futurity opens upon the eyes of the soul; he beholds the gates of heaven, the river of life, its glad waters kissing the footsteps of the throne of God; the glories of the new world grow brighter and brighter upon him. With Stephen, he beholds Jesus at the right hand of His Father; and as he dwells with rapture on those enlivening sights, the earth and all its scenery grow dim about him, and, like Elisha's servant at the gate of Damascus, he is instantly environed with troops of angels, come to take him up over the everlasting hills in the chariot of the Lord.

VT. CHRON.

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The Better Land.

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Y GOD, I love to meditate on Thee-
To think upon Thy works, Thy words,

Thy ways;
And in another world my work shall be
To bless Thy name, to dwell upon Thy

praise.
I love to think upon that world of light

Where Jesus reigns--that better world above, Where faith and hope are perfected in sight; Where Thou art known in truth and served in

love,

The surges beat not on that happy shore;

No wave of sorrow there shall ever rise; For sin in all its forms is known no more,

And death, with all its power, forever dies. Mortality's sad tears have ceased to flow;

Tumultuous passions and corroding care, With all that agitates this scene below,

Can to no bosom find admission there.

There all is righteousness, and peace, and joy;

Those who have labored enter into restA rest no adversary shall destroy,

No enemy shall enter to molest. Rich, incorruptible, and undefiled,

Is that inheritance so freely given To every one, who, as a little child, Has humbly sought and walk'd the way to

heaven:

One Blessed Spirit binds the happy band,

Whose feet, while here, in faith and patience trod The narrow way to that delightsome land

It is the Spirit of the Lord their God. Perfect in knowledge, they behold Thy face,

Thou God of Truth, in glory, and adore; | Perfect in love with Thee, the God of grace,

And with each other, one forevermore.

Pure is their light, refulgent, yet serene;

The cheering atmosphere they breathe on high; No shade of gloom shall ever intervene,

To darken over their unclouded sky. í h, blessed hope of everlasting life!

My soul's anticipation day by day; ill from this changing world and all its strife, To that far better world she soars away.

The Forest Funeral.

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HE was a fair child, with masses of long black hair lying over her pillow. Her eye was dark and piercing, and as it met mine she startled slightly, but smiled and looked upward.

I spoke a few words to her father, and turning to her, asked her if she knew her condition.

“ “I know that my Redeemer liveth,” said she, in a voice whose melody was like the sweetest strain of the Æolian harp. You may imagine that the answer startled me, and with a very few words of the like import, I turned from her. A half hour passed, and she spoke in the same deep, rich, melodious voice

“ Father, I am cold-lie down beside me;" and the old man lay down by his dying child, and she twined her arms around his neck, and murmured in a dreamy voice, “Dear father, dear father!"

“My child,” said the man, “ doth the flood seem deep to thee?"

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