"Onward to the glory, Upward to the prize, Homeward to the mansions Far beyond the skies!" Our eyes are dim with tears, as in vain we try to track their course, lost in a haze of glory; but this we own, with thankful hearts—they owe their exaltation to the King of saints alone: angels are "ascending," as well as "descending, upon the Son of man." In the dark, bitter gloom of bereavement, we rest our aching heads on the tombstone which covers the relics of one most dear, peacefully sleeping in Jesus. Like Jacob, we feel benighted and alone. But if, in the midnight of sorrow, God reveal Himself to us as He revealed Himself to the patriarch, even that stone will become to us as a Bethel. Does it bear the dear name of our dead—no, rather a name that is written, we trust, in God's Book of Life! Above the stone rises the ladder of light; its foot may rest in the grave, but its summit is hidden in the radiance of Heaven. [Illustration] VII. The Coat of Many Colours. A MOURNFUL relic this, all torn and stained, defiled with dust, and blood, and tears! We seem to hear the wail of the miserable father, as with anguish he gazed upon the once goodly garment. "It is my son's coat; an evil beast hath devoured him! Joseph is without doubt rent in pieces!" In the excess of his grief, "Jacob rent his clothes, and put sackcloth upon his loins, and mourned for his son many days." In vain they who had inflicted the deep wound in a parent's heart, hypocritically attempted to heal it. His traitor sons "rose up to comfort him;" but Israel refused to be comforted. "And he said, For I will go down into the grave unto my son mourning. Thus his father wept for him." How bitterly the marred garment of many colours recalled to the mind of Jacob the joy and pride with which he had placed it on his favourite son—the son of his old age, whom he loved more than all his children! Joseph, beauteous in person, gifted in mind, virtuous in character, was well fitted to be the pride and delight of his parent. We marvel not that the son of the beloved Rachel—he who inherited his mother's outward attractions, with the piety of his father—should have been to the heart of Jacob peculiarly dear.