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native city. For several years he acted as a missionary at Leith, after which he was ordained to the ministry at Kelso in November, 1837. He remained here for upwards of thirty years, when he returned to his native city, and became minister of the Chalmers Memorial Free Church. Dr. Bonar was for some time editor of the Presbyterian Review, afterwards of the Quarterly Journal of Prophecy, and is the author of above twenty volumes of a religious character, including "The Land of Promise," "The Desert of Sinai," "Prophetical Landmarks," Earth's Morning, or Thoughts on Genesis," "God's Way of Peace," and "God's Way of Holiness;" the last two having attained an extraordinary circulation. To these must be added his deservedly popular poetical works, consisting of "Lyra Consolationis," and several series of his beautiful "Hymns of Faith and Hope," which have been republished and very extensively circulated in the United States. Some of the pieces in his latest volume belong to the highest order of religious poetry.

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A recent visitor to Dr. Bonar's church in Edinburgh furnishes us with the following portraiture of the gifted poet-preacher:-"The striking feature of his face is the large, soft,

dark eye, the power of which one feels across the church. There are no bold, rugged lines in his face; but benevolence, peace, and sweetness pervade it. The first thought was, 'He is just like his hymns-not great, but tender, sweet, and tranquil.' And everything he did and said carried out this impression. His prayer was as simple as a child's. His voice was low, quiet, and impressive. His address, for it could scarcely be called a sermon, was founded on the words, The Spirit and the Bride say, Come,' the last invitation in the Bible.' It was marked by the absence of all attempt at originality, which is to an American so striking a feature of most foreign preaching. It was simply an invitation-warm, loving, urgent. His power over the audience was complete. Even the children looked steadily in his face; once he paused in his discourse and addressed himself especially to the Sundayschool children, who sat by themselves on one side of the pulpit. I was sure the little ones never heard the Good Shepherd's call more tenderly given. With one of the most winning faces I ever saw he closed: Whosoever'-that includes you; Whosoever will' does that include you?'"

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Beyond the frost-chain and the fever
I shall be soon;

Beyond the rock-waste and the river,
Beyond the ever and the never,
I shall be soon.

Love, rest, and home!
Sweet hope!

Lord, tarry not, but come.

NEWLY FALLEN ASLEEP.

Past all pain for ever,

Done with sickness now;

Let me close thine eyes, mother,
Let me smooth thy brow.
Rest and health and gladness,—
These thy portions now;
Let me press thy hand, mother,

Let me kiss thy brow.

Eyes that shall never weep,
Life's tears all shed,
Its farewells said,-

These shall be thine!
All well with thee;

O, would that they were mine!

A brow without a shade,
Each wrinkle smoothed,
Each throbbing soothed,-
That shall be thine.
All well with thee!

O, would that it were mine!

A tongue that stammers not
In tuneful praise,
Through endless days,-

That shall be thine.
All well with thee!

O, would that it were mine!

A voice that trembles not;
All quivering past,
Death's sigh the last,-

That shall be thine.
All well with thee!

O, would that it were mine!

Limbs that shall never tire,
Nor ask to rest,
In service blest,--

These shall be thine.
All well with thee!

O, would that they were mine!

A frame that cannot ache,
Earth's labours done,

Life's battle's won,

That shall be thine.
All well with thee!

O, would that it were mine!

A heart that flutters not,
No timid throb,

No quick-breathed sob,-
That shall be thine.
All well with thee!

O, would that it were mine!

A will that swerveth not
At frown or smile,
At threat or wile,-

That shall be thine.
All well with thee!

O, would that it were mine!

A soul still upward bent
On higher flight,
With wing of light,-

That shall be thine.
All well with thee!

O, would that it were mine!
Hours without fret or care,
The race well run,
The prize well won,—-

These shall be thine.
All well with thee!

O, would that they were mine!

Days without toil or grief,
Time's burdens borne,
With strength well worn,
These shall be thine.
All well with thee!

O, would that they were mine!

Rest without broken dreams,
Or wakeful fears,
Or hidden tears,—

That shall be thine.
All well with thee!
O, would that it were mine!
Life that shall fear no death,
God's life above,
Of light and love,—

That shall be thine.
All well with thee!

O, would that it were mine!

Morn that shall light the tomb,
And call from dust
The slumbering just,-

That shall be thine.
All well with thee!

O, would that it were mine!

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