class="dramaline">Despised, degraded, though we be,

In wretchedness and poverty,

May find Redemption in his Name,

That rich Inheritance to claim,

With yonder blood-washed company,

All robed in spotless purity,

And Joy, to all eternity.”

    “Oh! listen to the Great Redeemer’s voice,

Receive His Word, make Him your choice,

Trust in His Name, and in His Love rejoice,

Forsake all sin, repent, and be forgiven,

Then I shall meet you all again in Heaven.”

VIII.

    He ceased—his word, no longer heard,

Through every chord, our souls had stirred.

The glistening eye, gave back reply,

Then rose on high, the heart-felt cry:

Lord, grant that I, when called to die,

May thus be blessed, from pain released,

As Heavenly Guest, with Thee to feast:

Oh! be Thou near, my soul to cheer,

That doubt and fear, may disappear,

That joy and rest, may fill my breast,

That visions bright, of heavenly light,

Like his to-night, may cheer my sight.

Should quiet sleep my senses keep,

And Fancy leap the pathless steep,

Where whirl the streams of airy dreams,

With glittering gleams, of heavenly beams,—

Oh! may I in fit frame be found,

To dream of “Angels hovering round,”

And “leave the world without a tear,

Save for the friends I hold so dear.”

Or should fierce pains forbid to sleep,

May I amid the anguish deep,

When shuddering death-chills o’er me creep,

And friends around me mourn and weep,

Be buoyed above the waves’ wild sweep,

Where bursting billows roar and leap;

And hear the ‘whispering angels’ say,

“Sister Spirit, come away;”

And borne on Faith and Fancy’s wing,

Still hear them as they shout, and sing,

“My ears with sounds seraphic ring,”

My soul through all its mystic springs,

Thrill like a Harp’s harmonious strings,

Defiance at the foe to fling;

That I may shout, exult, and cry:

“Lend, lend, your wings! I mount, I fly!”

“Oh! Death, where is thy victory!

Oh! Death, where is thy sting!”

My faith has triumphed over thee,

A conquered captive, not a king:

“Jesus can make a dying bed

Feel soft as downy pillows are;

Here on His breast I lean my head,

And breathe my life out sweetly there.”

IX.

    We watch the dying man meanwhile,

His face all radiant with a smile;

His lips