Not friendless, child: a Friend on high
For you his precious blood has given.
Cheer up, and bid each tear be dry:
"There are no tears in heaven."

I saw a man in life's gay noon

Stand weeping o'er his young bride's bier: "And must we part," he cried, "so soon?"

As down his cheek there rolled a tear.

"Heart-stricken one," said I, "weep not!'

Weep not!" in accents wild he cried;
"But yesterday my loved one died;
And shall she be so soon forgot?"
Forgotten! no; still let her love

Sustain thy heart, with anguish riven:
Strive thou to meet thy bride above,
And dry your tears in heaven.

I saw a gentle mother weep,

As to her throbbing heart she pressed
An infant, seemingly asleep

On its kind mother's sheltering breast.
"Fair one," said I, “pray weep no more."
Sobbed she, "The idol of my hope
I am now called to render up;

My babe has reached death's gloomy shore."

Young mother, yield no more to grief,

Nor be by passion's tempest driven; But find in these sweet words relief, "There are no tears in heaven."

Poor traveller o'er life's troubled wave,
Cast down by grief, o'erwhelmed by care,
There is an arm above can save ;
Then yield not thou to fell despair.
Look upward, mourners, look above;
What though the thunders echo loud?
The sunshine's bright behind the cloud;
Then trust in thy Redeemer's love.
Where'er thy lot in life be cast,

Whate'er of toil and woe be given,

Be firm remember, to the last,
"There are no tears in heaven."

PRESENCE OF CHRIST.

A Christian should make his Saviour a perpetual companion, — everywhere and on every day of the week. Christ offers to walk with him in every day's journey of life. What companionship so enlivening and purifying as his? who else can make our hearts so

burn within us by the way?

Christ's pres

ence with believers is one of the best preventives from sin, one, of the best stimulators to duty. Jesus is "made unto us sanctification," as well as redemption. That is, his is a spirit of holiness. And, when we live in hourly communion with Jesus, it has a tendency to make us holy. The sense of Christ's immediate presence is a perpetual check upon our lusts, a perpetual spur to our self-indolence. Are we provoked to cutting words or irritating retorts? One look from the gentle, all-forgiving Jesus should be enough to seal the lip, and to smooth the ruffled brow. Are we ever tempted to keen bargains and over-reaching in business? Selfishness says, “All is fair: others do it; it is the custom of our trade." But what will the pure and holy Jesus say? How will account-books look to him when he "audits them? And so on, all through the calendar of duties and the circle of daily temptations. With our Saviour beside me, how will I dare to play the coward, or the cheat, or the trifler, or the sensualist, or the trickster?

Nowhere will Christ's presence be more cheering and sustaining than in the weariness of a sick-room, or under the silent shadows of a great bereavement. "Christ comes to me in the watches of the night," said the bed-ridden saint, Halyburton. "He draws aside the curtains and says, 'It is I; be of good cheer; be not afraid." Here I lie, pained with pain; without strength, and yet strong."

And, when the last farewells have been spoken through the sobs of the dying hour, this never-failing Friend will sweetly whisper, "Fear not, I am with thee. Where I am, ye shall be also. Having loved my own, I will love them unto the end."

CUYLER.

GOING HOME.

Where are you going so fast, old man ?

Where are you going so fast?

There's a valley to cross, and a river to ford, There's a clasp of the hand, and a parting word, And a tremulous sigh for the past, old man, The beautiful vanished past.

The road has been rugged and rough, old man,

To your feet it's rugged and rough;

But you see a dear being with gentle eyes
Has shared in your labor and sacrifice ;

Ah! that has been sunshine enough, old

man,

For you and me, sunshine enough.

How long since you passed o'er the hill, old

man,

Of life, — o'er the top of the hill?

Were there beautiful valleys on t'other side? Were there flowers and trees with their branches

wide

To shut out the heat of the sun, old man, -
The heat of the fervid sun?

And how did you cross the waves, old man,

Of sorrow, - the fearful waves?

Did you lay your dear treasures by, one by one, With an aching heart, and “God's will be done,” Under the wayside dust, old man,

In the graves 'neath the wayside dust?

There is sorrow and labor for all, old man ; Alas! there is sorrow for all:

And you, peradventure, have had your share;