Tho' Jordan's waves roll cold and chill,
The Savior passed that way;
Ye billows bear me swiftly o'er

To the bright world of day.

Tho' dark and drear the valley looks,
Through it I long to go;

There free from sn, and free from pain,
Nor grief nor sorrow know.

When I have done with earthly things,
And crossed bold Jordan's flood,
Then I shall see my Savior dear,
Upon the throne of God.

DEATH.

Ye gloomy shades prepare me room,
And I will fill the lonely tomb;
My dust it there shall sweetly sleep,
Till the Archangel bids it wake.

There free from sin my dust shall lie,
My spirit then shall upward fly;
With angels there I'll join to sing,
The praises of my God and king.

Though dark and gloomy death appears,
Through it I look to brighter years;
Ten thonsand beauties do unfold,
And burst with rapture on my soul.

Though Jordan's waves like mountains roll,
They shall not fright my longing soul;
My little bark shall bear me o'er,
And I shall land on that blest shore.

Lo, Jesus stands with open arms,
In him I see ten thousand charms;
Then how can death my soul affright,
Since in my God I take delight.

Joined with the seraphims above,
My voice I'll raise in strains of love;
With joy I'll touch the golden lyre,
Each note shall raise his glories higher.

When I can view the landscape o'er,
And view the angels there adore,
Fearless I'll sing o'er Jordan's waves,
Where is thy victory boasted grave.

Death now has lost its poisonous sting,
The grave no victory gains;

And when my heart-strings here shall break,
The victory I'll obtain.

DEAR SISTER-The above poem you may consider tinged with shade of melancholy, but I never felt a more unshaken confidence in God than at present, though my temporal circumstances are of the most aggravating nature. I feel as if his billows had all passed over me; he still upholds me by the right hand of his power. When 1 am called to pass through the valley of the shadow of death, his rod and his staff shall sustain me. Death is now robbed of its sting. Dear Sister, I feel that when

death receives this darkened lantern of clay, it can shout no victory. I believe these light afflictions will work out for me a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory, if I am properly exercised by them. I pray that I may kiss the rod from the hand of him that sent it.

From your affectionate sister,

D. S, G.

CHRIST AMONG THE CANDLE

STICKS.

[And in the midst of the seven candlesticks one like nnto the Son of man, clothed with a garment down to the foot, and girt about the paps with a golden girdle. And his feet like unto fine brass, as if they burned in a furnace; and his voice as the sound of many waters.Rev. 1: 13, 15.]

Jesus in heaven his beauty shows,
The olive oil so sweetly flows
Into the golden bowl.

Among the candlesticks he walks,
And with the tall archangel talks,
fle's robed in beauty there.

Ilis robe flows brightly to his feet;
liis robe is white, Oh yes, complete.
His girdle bright as gold;

No earthly monarch here can know
Such splendor as our Lord did show
When he appeared in state.

His beauty, too, was all divine,
He did the morning sun outshine :
Thus John the Savior saw.

His feet were like the burnished brass
When in the furnace it is cast,
And seven times refined.

His eyes were as a flaming sword:
Who could endure the angry Lord,
Or bear his righteous frown?
I'll go and fall before his face,
And meekly there implore his grace,
His frowns will turn to smiles.

Although his face may wear a frown,
His heart with pity doth abound

When we make our complaint. He ne'er will turn his face away When unto him we humbly pray,

And plead his righteous blood.

Upon us ever has he smiled,
When he beheld his humble child
In meekness call on him.
With confidence to him I'll go,
And all my wants to him I'll show,
For he will them relieve.

THE EFFECTS OF SIN.

flow vain are all our ways,

How sinful every thought;

The way of truth we often leave,
And from our God depart.

What pleasure can we find,
In all the ways of sin;

Darkness and gloom will us surround,
And sorrow will attend.

In darkness here we grope.
Like blind men for the wall;
We tremble at the smallest thing,
And down to dust we fall.

The way of sin is dark,

It leads us down to death;
The way of the transgressor's hard,
When he gives up his breath.

If we would here obey,

The God that rules on high;
A light upon our path would shine,
To lead us to the sky.

[The following was published in the N. Y. Democrat, dedicated to Miss ELIZABETH H. DENNY, late matron of the Institution for the Blind, by her affectionate pupil D. S. GILES.]

With anguish now our bosom swell,
Our tears unbidden flow,

The blind girl's mother, sister, friend,
Is called from us to go.