arts of men,
A moment's time and the space is passed,
And heaven's best gifts at our feet are cast.

Not a cloud stairway, nor ladder long,
Connects this earth with the land of song;
The Saviour bends from the opening skies--
He smiles in love, and our souls arise.

As flakes of steel to the magnet fly,
And mists ascend to the sun on high,
So we are drawn by the cords of love
From the earth below to thrones above.

O lift me up from my bed of clay,
To dwell with Thee in the realms of day.
If 'tis Thy will I should tarry still,
Prepare me, Lord, for Thy Holy Hill.

THE MOSSES

Exquisite mosses, so lovely and green,
Covering the rocks with emerald sheen;
Hiding the scars which convulsions have made;
Blessing the mound where our angel was laid;
Forming a carpet on which we may tread;
Clothing with beauty the rotten and dead;
Sheathing from storm-blasts the young forest tree--
Beautiful mosses, examples for me.

Trod under foot by all kinds of men;
Gracing the mountain or hid in the fen;
Never adorning the brow of the fair;
Seldom deemed worthy some corner to share
In the bouquets that are cast in the way
Princely feet tread on reception's proud day;
The glory of roses do not attain;
Beautiful mosses, ye grow not in vain.

Answer the end by your Maker designed.
Humble your bloom, but your mission is kind.
Those will most prize you who knew you the best.
Cover me o'er when I lie down to rest;
Cover, likewise, in the marble my name,
Hiding forever that index of shame;
But tell to the world, "as life he passed through,
He covered some scars and aimed to be true."

THE GRANDEST THEME

The grandest theme for tongue, or pen,
Is not the heavens supernal;
Nor mighty deeds of God-like men,
Though they may be eternal;

Nor Alpine heights, nor lovely vale,
With brooks and grazing cattle;
Nor awful roar of rushing gale,
Beyond the noise of battle;

Nor clashing arms, nor trembling earth;
Nor heaving waves of ocean;
Nor record of a nation's birth;
Nor heaven's cloud-cars in motion.

The grandest theme, for tongue, or pen,
Above all else in glory;
Which suits alike, all sinful men,
Is the sweet Gospel story,

Which tells me of my Saviour's love
And infinite compassion,
Which brought Him from His throne above
To Calvary's cross and passion.

And now the holy angels sing,
With blood-washed souls in glory,
A song which makes heaven's arches ring
About this Gosp