I live, O lost one, for the living

Who drew their earliest life from thee,
And wait until, with glad thanksgiving,
I shall be free.

For life to me is as a station

Wherein apart a traveler standsOne absent lors, from home and nation, In other lands

And I, as he who stands and listens,
Amide twilight's chill and gloom,
To hear, approaching in the distance,
The train for home.

For death shall bring another mating;
Beyond the shadow of the tomb,
On yonder shore; a bride is waiting
Until I come.

In yonder fields are children playing,
And there-O vision of delight!-
I see a child and mother straying
In robes of white.

Thou, then, the longing heart that breakest,
Stealing its treasures one by one,
I'val toge blessed when thou makest

The parted-one.

O. M. CONOVER.

The Dignity of Death.

Here lies a common man. His horny hands,
Crossed meekly as a maid's upon his breast,
Show marks of toil, and by his general dress
You judge him to have been an artisan.
Doubtless, could all his life be written out,
The story would not thrill nor start a tear;
He worked, laughed, loved and suffered in his time,
And now rests peacefully with upturned face,
Whose look belies all struggles in the past.
A homely tale; yet, trust me, I have seen
The greatest of the earth go stately by,
While shouting multitudes beset the way,
With less of awe. The gap between a king.

And me, a nameless gazer in the crowd,

Seemed not so wide as that which stretches now
Betwixt us two-this dead one and myself.
Untitled, dumb and deedless, yet he is
Transfigured by a touch from out the skies
Until he wears, with all-unconscious grace,
The strange and sudden dignity of death.

RICHARD E. BURTON.

The Christian View of Death.

That

My friends, I hope you do not call that death. is an autumnal sunset. That is a crystalline river pourThat is the solo of human life.

ing into a crystal sea.

overpowered by the Hallelujah chorus. That is a queen's coronation. That is Heaven. That is the way my father

stood at eighty-two, seeing my mother depart at seventynine. Perhaps, so your father and mother went. I wonder if we will die as well.-—-TALMAGE.

Two.

I dreamed I saw two angels, hand in hand;
And very like they were, and very fair.
One wore about his head a golden band;

A thorn-wreath crowned the other's matted hair.

The one was fair and tall, and white of brow;

A radiant spirit smile of wondrous grace
Shed, like an inner altar-lamp, a glow
Upon his beautiful uplifted face.

The other's face, like marble-carved Grief,
Had placid brows laid whitely o'er with pain,
With lips that never knew a smile's relief,

And eyes like violets long drenched in rain.

Then spake the fair, sweet one and gently said:

"Between us-Life and Death-choose thou thy lot.

By him thou lovest best thou shalt be led;

Choose thou between us, soul, and fear thou not."

( pondered long. "O Life!". at last I cried, "Perchance 't were wiser Death to choose; and yet

My soul with thee were better satisfied."

The angel's radiant face smiled swift regret.

Within his brother's hand he placed my hand.

Thou didst mistake," he said, in underbreath,