These are the everlasting hills, With summits bathed in day: The slopes down which the living rills, Soft-lapsing, take their way. Fair vision! how thy distant gleam Brightens time's saddest hue; Far fairer than the fairest dream, And yet so strangely true! Fair vision! how thou liftest up The drooping brow and eye; With the calm joy of thy sure hope Fixing our souls on high. Thy light makes even the darkest page In memory's scroll grow fair; Blanching the lines which tears and age Had only deepened there. With thee in view, the rugged slope Becomes a level way, Smoothed by the magic of thy hope, And gladdened by thy ray. With thee in view, how poor appear The world's most winning smiles; Vain is the tempter's subtlest snare, And vain hell's varied wiles. Time's glory fades; its beauty now Has ceased to lure or blind; Each gay enchantment here below Has lost its power to bind. Then welcome toil, and care, and pain! And welcome sorrow too! All toil is rest, all grief is gain, With such a prize in view. Come crown and throne, come robe and palm! Burst forth glad stream of peace! Come, holy city of the Lamb! Rise, Sun of Righteousness! When shall the clouds that veil thy rays For ever be withdrawn? Why dost thou tarry, day of days? When shall thy gladness dawn? --_Horatius Bonar._ THE SURE REFUGE. Jesus, my Saviour, look on me! For I am weary and oppressed; I come to cast myself on Thee; Thou art my Rest. Look down on me, for I am weak; I feel the toilsome journey's length; Thine aid omnipotent I seek; Thou art my Strength. I am bewildered on my way; Dark and tempestuous is the night; Oh! shed thou forth some cheering ray; Thou art my Light. I hear the storms around me rise, But when I dread the impending shock, My spirit to her refuge flies; Thou art my Rock. When the accuser flings his darts, I look to Thee--my terrors cease,-- Thy cross a hiding-place imparts; Thou art my Peace. Standing alone on Jordan's brink, In that tremendous, latest strife, Thou wilt not suffer me to sink; Thou art my Life. Thou wilt my every want supply, Even to the end, whate'er befall Through life in death eternally; Thou art my All. --_Unidentified._ UNFRUITFULNESS. My soul! what hast thou done for God? Look o'er thy misspent years and see; Sum up what thou hast done for God, And then what God has done for thee. He made thee, when He might have made A soul that would have loved Him more; He rescued thee from nothingness, And set thee on life's happy shore. He placed an angel at thy side, And strewed joys round thee on thy way; He gave thee rights thou couldst not claim, And life, free life, before thee lay.