There is no halt; and more and more
    There seems an open sea
    Reaching us with its ceaseless roar—­
    It is eternity.

    There is one Pilot that we need,
    One who can safely steer,
    One who at heaven’s court can plead,
    And all our journey cheer.

    ’Tis Jesus Christ; and all who see
    In him the truth, the way,
    Are in possession of the key
    To heaven’s eternal day.

WEALTH

He heapeth up riches and knoweth not who shall gather them.—­Psalm 39:6.

    O soul, it is not thine,
    But lent to thee in trust
    That thou may’st make God’s glory shine,
    Secured from moth and rust.

    Thou can’st not take one mite
    Except as thou dost give
    And waft it in the golden light
    Where heaven’s glories live.

    Go look for those in need—­
    The hungry and the cold. 
    Kind words and actions are the seed
    Which yield their fruits of gold.

    Give to the heathen world
    Knowledge of Christ our Lord;
    Pray that his banner be unfurled;
    Send forth, his priceless word.

    He lived for us and died,
    And intercedes above. 
    His blood, a sacrificial tide,
    Redeems us by his love.

    “Barbarian, bond and free,
    The wise and the unwise”—­
    ’Tis ours to give and theirs to see
    Salvation’s blood-bought prize.

    We know not ’neath the sky
    Who’ll gather of our store,
    But if we lay it up on high,
    ’Tis ours forevermore.

THE CAPTIVES

Psalm 137.

    Captives by Babel’s limpid streams,
    We hung our harps on willows there;
    Wept over Zion; and our dreams,
    Waking or sleeping, she did share.

    Our victors, with their battle arms,
    Derided, jeered, and scorned our tears;
    Required mirth, diversion’s charms,
    To thus allay their guilty fears.

    “Sing us a song” is their demand,
    “Yea, sing us one of Zion’s songs!”
    How can our voices thus expand
    To what to us and God belongs?

    How can we on this heathen shore,
    Surrounded by idolatry,
    Sing songs that unto us are more
    Than all their glittering pageantry?

    Jerusalem, should we forget,
    We pray our hearts and tongues be still! 
    Jerusalem!  Oh, may we yet
    Worship upon thy holy hill.

    Babylon, thou art to be destroyed! 
    Thy doom’s foretold in prophecy;
    And happy be the means employed
    To hurl thee to thy destiny.

THE LIVING WATER

I that speak unto thee am he.—­John 4:26.