Hark! heard ye not a sound,

Sweeter than wild-bird's note or minstrel's lay?
I know that music well, for night and day
I hear it echoing round.

It is the tuneful chime

Of spirit voices!-'tis my infant band,
Calling the mourner from this darken'd land
To joy's unclouded clime.

My beautiful, my blest!

I see them there, by the Great Spirit's throne;
With winning words, and fond beseeching tone,
They woo me to my rest.

They chide my long delay,

And wonder that I linger from their home;
They stretch their loving arms to bid me come-
Now would ye have me stay?

IV.

E. S. S.

KNOWLEDGE OF EACH OTHER IN HEAVEN.

I count the hope no day-dream of the mind,

No vision fair, of transitory hue

The souls of those whom once on earth we knew, And lov'd, and walk'd with in communion kind,

Departed hence, again in heaven to find.

Such hope to nature's sympathies is true;
And such, we deem, the holy word to view
Unfolds; an antidote for grief design'd,

One drop from comfort's well. 'Tis true we read
The Book of life; but if we read amiss,
By God prepared, fresh treasures shall succeed
To kinsmen, fellows, friends, a vast abyss
Of joy; nor aught the longing spirit need

To fill its measure of enormous bliss.

BISHOP MANT.

V.

In the beautiful poem of Montgomery, this doctrine is sweetly imbedded. It is not so much the logic as the life which gives this piece such strength to win our heart. We call it beautiful, and feel its influence without asking closely in what its strength lies. Like a real friend, it bears acquaintance, and yields more richly in proportion as it is studied. Thousands have loved it, who could not tell why-a real evidence of its excellence because it lays hold of our life deeper than that part of us which renders

a reason.

NOT LOST, BUT GONE BEFORE.

Friend after friend departs:

Who hath not lost a friend?
There is no union here of hearts,

That finds not here an end.
Were this frail world our final rest,
Living or dying none were blest.

Beyond the flight of time,

Beyond the reign of death,

There surely is some blessed clime,
Where life is not a breath;

Nor life's affections transient fire,
Whose sparks fly upward and expire.

There is a world above,

Where parting is unknown;

A long eternity of love,

Formed for the good alone;
And faith beholds the dying here,
Translated to that glorious sphere.

Thus star by star declines,

'Till all are pass'd away,

As morning high and higher shines,

To pure and perfect day;

Nor sink those stars in empty night,

But hide themselves in heaven's own light.

SECTION II.

INCIDENTAL ALLUSIONS.

By these incidental allusions to this doctrine among the poets, we learn not only how generally it was believed by them, but also how firmly and comfortably it sits upon the heart, especially in its silent and meditative hours. We see how naturally the heart, flowing into the griefs of others, in the sweet stream of song, glides calmly on to this delightful conclusion. Most of these sentiments were expressed under a fresh sense of bereavement, and are therefore real living words. Either the poet is comforting his own aching heart or the heart of a friend. If it is his own, it is significant that he makes no apology, and offers no argument in favour of the sentiment he utters; but firmly, and in faith, alludes to it as a settled truth. When it is another's sorrow he seeks to assuage, the allusion shows how naturally he takes it for granted that the friend whom he thus incidentally reminds of this doctrine has no doubts as to its truth.

And how easily do our hearts and our convictions follow him in these allusions. He speaks in us, and we hear him gladly. He utters our griefs, he directs our longings,

N

better than we could ourselves; and we are content that he should lead us on in the bright path of our hopes, to find the loved and lost again.

I.

Here is a stanza, the full tenderness of which none but

a bereaved mother can feel.

Oh! when a mother meets on high,
The child she lost in infancy,

Hath she not then, for pains and fears,
The day of wo, the watchful night,
For all her sorrows, all her tears,

An over-payment of delight?

II.

In the Sacred Lyrics of R. Huie is a beautiful poem on the death of his little son, which winds up with an allusion to this doctrine. Here is the last verse. Where is there any scripture to forbid us the hope expressed in the last line?

My little one, my fair one, thou canst not come to me,

But nearer draws the number'd hour when I shall go to thee;
And thou, perchance, with seraph smile, and golden harp in hand,
May'st come, the first to welcome me to our Emanuel's land.

III.

Oh, blissful scene! where severed hearts

Renew the ties most cherish'd;

Where nought the mourn'd and mourner parts;

Where grief with life is perish'd.

Oh! nought do I desire so well,

As here to die, and there to dwell!

IV.

All is not over with earth's broken tie

Where, where should sisters love, if not on high?

MRS. HEMANS.

V.

I look to recognize again, through the beautiful mask of their perfection, The dear familiar faces I have somewhile loved on earth;

I long to talk with grateful tongue of storms and perils past,

And praise the mighty Pilot that hath steer'd us through the rapids.

M. F. TUPPER.

VI.

The saints on earth, when sweetly they converse,
And the dear favours of kind heaven rehearse,
Each feels the other's joys, both doubly share
The blessings which devoutly they compare.
If saints such mutual joy feel here below,

When they each other's heavenly foretastes know,
What joys transport them at each other's sight,
When they shall meet in empyreal height!
Friends, e'en in heaven, one happiness would miss,
Should they not know each other when in bliss.

BISHOP KEN.

VII.

There is only a certain class of mourners who can feel the tenderness of the following touching allusion of Southey. For them it is here inserted. As in piety so in mourn