MAN’S FRAILTY.

  See a flower of lovely hue,
    Dipp’d in beauty bright, at Spring,
  Blasted by a wind that blew,
    Ere it passed its blossoming.

  Such is man, in best estate;
    Like a flower he buddeth forth,
  Till some unexpected fate
    Brings him to his mother earth,

  Such a shadow of a shade,
    Human life, a moment, is: 
  Now we live, but soon conveyed
    Past all life’s uncertainties.

  Blooming youth and wither’d age,
    Infant charms and ripened years,
  Death assaults with equal rage,
    Unappeas’d by prayers or tears: 

  Then, the closely wedded pair,
    Soul and body sadly part;
  Yet to meet again—­but where? 
    Seek the answer in thy heart.

“‘Looking unto Jesus!’ This is the posture of my soul.  Yea, I long after God.  I have been peculiarly drawn out In prayer for several members of my family, with great sweetness In my own soul.  Glory be to God!”

XXIII.

SLEEP IN JESUS.

  “WEEP NOT; SHE IS NOT DEAD BUT SLEEPETH.”—­Luke viii. 62.

When the shadows of evening begin to fall, it is not difficult to prognosticate that the night is at hand; and, admonished by the increasing gloom, man, wearied by the tolls of the day, gladly looks forward to the hour of repose.  Universal nature shares in the feeling of presentiment.  The cattle seek the shed; the birds fly back to their nests; and the gentle flower folds its delicate petals, as if for sleep.  Is It wonderful that as life closes in, especially when protracted to a good old age, the human spirit should feel an instinctive consciousness of approaching dissolution? or that the aged Christian, after long and patient endurance in his Master’s service, should joyfully anticipate the hour of rest? Yes, REST, not death; “For whosoever liveth, and believeth in me,” saith the Saviour, “shall never die.”  Christ has tasted death for him, and the bitterness, which is the reality of death, is passed away.  His stedfast faith prevents the dawn of a brighter day, and what matters it, whether his sleep continue but a few hours, or be protracted through a period of centuries?  The body can be sensible of no difference, and the spirit, transported far beyond the regions of dream-land, enjoys a happy and conscious existence in the presence of Him, who died, “That whether we wake or sleep, we might live together with Him.”  Mrs. Lyth looked, nay longed for the time of her departure; and as the hour drew on, seems to have had some pleasant premonitions of its approach.  About a month before it occurred, she writes, “My first thought this morning was,

  ’We soon shall be landed, for death is in view,
  Almighty protection shall comfort us through;
  Released from our prisons, to heaven we fly,
  Exchanging all sorrows for mansions on high.’”