But now, thy mission-labors o'er,
Rest, weary clay, to wake no more,
Till the Great Rising-Day."

Thus spake the traveller, as he staid
His step within that sacred shade,
A man of God was he,

Who his Redeemer's glory sought,
And paused to woo the holy thought
Beneath that Hopia tree.

The Salwen's tide went rushing by,
And Burmah's cloudless moon was high,
With many a solemn star;

And while he mus'd methought there stole
An angel's whisper o'er his soul,

From that pure clime afar,

Where swells no more the heathen sigh,

Nor 'neath the idol's stony eye

Dark sacrifice is done,

And where no more, by prayers and tears,

And toils of agonising years,

The martyr's crown is won.

one side, her head reclining on her arm. Sometimes she said, 'The teacher is long in coming, and the new missionaries are long in coming. I must die alone.'"-Knowles's Memoir.

Then visions of the faith that blest

The dying saint's rejoicing breast,
And set the pagan free,

Came thronging on, serenely bright,

And cheer'd the traveller's heart that night, Beneath the Hopia tree.

A DOOR OPENED IN HEAVEN.

"I looked, and, behold, a door was opened in heaven." REVELATIONS, IV., 31.

It seemed not as a dream, and yet I stood
Beside Heaven's gate. Its mighty valves were loosed,
And upward, from earth's tribulation, came
A soul, whose passport, signed in Calvary's blood,
Prevailed. Around the golden threshold's verge
I saw the dazzling of celestial wings,
Thronging to welcome it. The towering form
Of an archangel bore it company

Up to God's throne. Soft on my ear their tones,
Serenely wafted by ambrosial gales,

Fell like rich music.

"Wherefore didst thou pass

Weeping along thy pilgrimage?" inquired

'The sinless seraph.

66
"Thorns beset my path.

I sought and found not. I obtained and mourned.

I loved and lost. Ingratitude and Hate

Did whet their serpent tooth upon my fame.

My wealth took wing. I planted seeds of bliss,
And sorrow blossomed."

But the risen from earth

Faltered to mark that high archangel's glance

Bent downward with surprise, as though it asked— "Had thy felicity no deeper root,

Thou sky-born soul, for whom the Son of God

Bowed to be crucified?”

So when I saw,

Or dreamed I saw, that even in Heaven might dwell

Reproof and penitence, I prayed to look

Ever upon that flood of light which gilds.

Each morning with its mercy, and whose beams

Are brightened every moment, and to bear
God's discipline with gladness; that no tear
For trials lost, be shed beyond the grave.

PASSING AWAY.

"The fashion of this world passeth away."-1 CORINTHIANS, VII., 31.

A ROSE upon her mossy stem,

Fair Queen of Flora's gay domain,
All graceful wore her diadem,

The brightest 'mid the brilliant train;
But evening came, with frosty breath,
And, ere the quick return of day,
Her beauties, in the blight of death,

Had pass'd away.

I saw, when morning gemmed the sky,
A fair young creature gladly rove,

Her moving lip was melody,

Her varying smile the charm of love;
-but on her bed

At eve I came

She drooped, with forehead pale as clay

"What dost thou here ?"—she faintly said,

"Passing away."