what is broken--heal.
And cleanse my spirit from above,
In the deep Jordan of Thy love!
I know not if the Christian's heaven
Shall be the same as mine,
I only ask to be forgiven,
And taken home to THINE.
I weary on a far, dim strand,
Whose mansions are as tombs,
And long to find the Father-land,
Where there are many homes.
Oh! grant of all yon shining throngs
Some dim and distant star,
Where Judah's lost and scatter'd sons
May worship from afar!
When all earth's myriad harps shall meet
In choral praise and prayer,
Shall Zion's harp, of old so sweet,
Alone be wanting there?
Yet place me in the lowest seat,
Though I, as now, lie there,
The Christian's jest--the Christian's scorn,
Still let me see and hear,
From some bright mansion in the sky,
Thy loved ones and their melody."

The sun goes down with sudden gleam,
And beautiful as a lovely dream,
And silently as air,
The vision of a dark-eyed girl
With long and raven hair,
Glides in as guardian spirits glide,
And lo! is standing by his side,
As if her sudden presence there
Was sent in answer to his prayer.
Oh! say they not that angels tread
Around the good man's dying bed?
His child--his sweet and sinless child,
And as he gazed on her,
He knew his God was reconciled,
And this the messenger.
As sure as God had hung on high
His promise-bow before his eye,
Earth's purest hopes were o'er him flung,
To point his heaven-ward faith,
And life's most holy feelings strung
To sing him into death.
And on his daughter's stainless breast,
The dying Hebrew sought his rest.[4]

"Have I fulfilled my task?" asked Mr. Arlington, as he touched the
picture on which Annie's eyes were still fixed.

"By no means," she answered; "the poem is beautiful; but is the drawing
from your own pencil?"

"Oh, no! It is a copy of a copy. The original is by Biederrmanns, and
may be seen, I believe, in the Dresden Gallery. This sketch was made
from a copy in the possession of my friend, Mr. Michael Grahame. He had
it done while he was in Russia. By-the-by--if I had Aunt Nancy's powers
as a _raconteur_, I think I could interest you in the history of Mr. and
Mrs. Grahame."

"Let us have it," exclaimed Col. Donaldson; "we will be lenient in our
criticisms; and should we