forenoon in the prairie, and had lain down to rest
beneath a solitary tree. The Doctor lay for a long time, silently
looking upwards through the openings of the boughs into the still
heavens, when he repeated the following lines, in a low tone, as if
communing with himself in view of the wonders he described:--

"O the joys that are there mortal eye bath not seen!
O the songs they sing there, with hosannas between!
O the thrice-blessed song of the Lamb and of Moses!
O brightness on brightness! the pearl gate uncloses!
O white wings of angels! O fields white with roses!
O white tents of peace, where the rapt soul reposes
O the waters so still, and the pastures so green!"

The brief hints afforded us by the sacred writings concerning the better
land are inspiring and beautiful. Eye hath not seen, nor the ear heard,
neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive of the good in
store for the righteous. Heaven is described as a quiet habitation,--a
rest remaining for the people of God. Tears shall be wiped away from all
eyes; there shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying, neither
shall there be any more pain. To how many death-beds have these words
spoken peace! How many failing hearts have gathered strength from them
to pass through the dark valley of shadows!

Yet we should not forget that "the kingdom of heaven is within;" that it
is the state and affections of the soul, the answer of a good conscience,
the sense of harmony with God, a condition of time as well as of
eternity. What is really momentous and all-important with us is the
present, by which the future is shaped and colored. A mere change of
locality cannot alter the actual and intrinsic qualities of the soul.
Guilt and remorse would make the golden streets of Paradise intolerable
as the burning marl of the infernal abodes; while purity and innocence
would transform hell itself into heaven.

DORA GREEN WELL.

First published as an introduction to an American edition of that
author's _The Patience of Hope_.

THERE are men who, irrespective of the names by which they are called in
the Babel confusion of sects, are endeared to the common heart of
Christendom. Our doors open of their own accord to receive them. For in
them we feel that in some faint degree, and with many limitations, the
Divine is again manifested: something of the Infinite Love shines out of
them; their very garments h