Yea! men may wonder while they scanA living, thinking, feeling man

In such a rest his heart to keep!

But angels say and through the word, I ween, their blessed smile is heard"He giveth His beloved sleep."

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.

THE FOE BEHIND, THE DEEP BEFORE.

HE foe behind, the deep before,
Our hosts have dared and past the

sea;

And Pharaoh's warriors strew the
shore,

And Israel's ransomed tribes are free.
Lift up, lift up your voices now!
The whole wide world rejoices now!
The Lord hath triumphed gloriously!
The Lord shall reign victoriously!
Happy morrow

Turning sorrow

Into peace and mirth!
Bondage ending,

Love descending,

O'er the earth!

Souls assuring,
Guards securing,

Watch His earthly prison:

Seals are shattered,

Guards are scattered,

Christ hath risen!

No longer must the mourners weep,
Nor call departed Christians dead;
For death is hallowed into sleep,
And every grave becomes a bed.
Now once more,

Eden's door

Open stands to mortal eyes;

For Christ hath risen, and men shall rise: Now at last,

Old things past,

Hope and joy and peace begin; For Christ hath won, and man shall win.

It is not exile, rest on high:

It is not sadness, peace from strife:
To fall asleep is not to die;

To dwell with Christ is better life.
Where our banner leads us,
We may safely go:
Where our Chief precedes us,
We may face the foe.

His right arm is o'er us,

He will guide us through ;

Christ hath

gone before us;

Christians! follow you!

JOHN MASON Neale, (1851.)

EASTER DAY.

PATHWAY opens from the tomb,
The grave's a grave no more!
Stoop down; look into that sweet

room;

Pass through the unseal'd door :

Linger a moment by the bed,

Where lay but yesterday the Church's Head.

What is there there to make thee fear?

A folded chamber-vest,

Akin to that which thou shalt wear,

When for thy slumber drest;

Two gentle angels sitting by—

How sweet a room, methinks, wherein to lie!

No gloomy vault, no charnel cell,

No emblem of decay,

No solemn sound of passing bell,

To

say, "He's gone away ;' But angel-whispers soft and clear,

And He, the risen Jesus, standing near.

"Why weepest thou? Whom seekest thou?" 'Tis not the gardener's voice,

But His to whom all knees shall bow,
In whom all hearts rejoice;
The voice of Him who yesterday,

Within that rock was Death's resistless prey.

"Why weepest thou? whom seekest thou? The living with the dead?"

Take young spring flowers and deck thy brow, For life with joy is wed:

The grave is now the

grave no more;

Why fear to pass that bridal-chamber door?

Take flowers and strew them all around

The room where Jesus lay:

But softly tread; 'tis hallowed ground,

And this is Easter-day.

"The Lord is risen," as He said,

And thou shalt rise with Him, thy risen Head.