Close i,j a eyes; his work Is done! Fold him In his country's stars, 1 What to him is friend or foeman, 1101l the drum and lire the volley! I I Ip" Blue of moon, or set of sun. What to him are all our wars, ' 1 fl. Hand of man, or kiss of woman? What but death bemooklng folly? 11. 1, 1 L Lay him low. lay hlra low. Lay him low, lay him low, Jar 'J \W 4| I In the clover of the snowl In the clover or the snow! ' , /\\l I « What cares he? He can not know; What cares he? He oun not know; l/A jji 1 y h ' m low! ay ' OWI 112 > tl) A* man may, he fought his flpht. Leave him to God's watching eye; ijO Proved his truth by his endeavor; Trust him to the hand that made him. '#vi\ Let blm sleep in solemn night, Mortal love weeps idly by; [/pa Sleep forever and forever. God alone has power to nld him. W *7. Lay him low, lay him low, Lay him low, lay him low, Mff l| In the clover or the snowl In the clover or the snowl \ What cares he? He nan, not know; What cares be? Hf can not know! V Lay hiui lowj Lay Ulm low! GRAMOcMitaineM jjt| A STO * Y .5 0R nr '^ opl/AL qay —H! here's the flag, ||Mr||l Polly; ain't it a "Lovely! Grand- MBiWL | pa'U be dec'rate^ I splendid! Myrose -\i v 8 hush has two roses MK9mSILI and three buds." Pe.ee n "You ain't goin' to pick the buds?" "Didn't Grand pa die for our country? Didn't we live, till mother died, on his pen sion? I think a whole bushel of buds wouldn't be too much!" Jack was glad Polly did not know about the ten-cent flag he could have got; he had thought five cents enough to spare out of their scanty earnings, when making the purchase; but after (hat speech he felt small. What if he were but a bootblack, earning a most precarious living, and Polly making only an odd dime now and then by scrubbing a floor or tending children for the neighbors? Jack wished he had done more for his soldier-grand father! But a thought struck him. "Oh, Polly! I'll tell you what I'll •io." "For to-morrow?" "Yes! You know it'll be years be fore we get a monnymeut for Grandpa, for we must get an eddication first; andtho'the flag'ull show it's a sol dier's grave, I think folks ought to know more. Well, I've learned to print real clear, and I'll print a real nice headstone, and we'll fix it down on the grave, and folks'll see it for that day, any way." "That's splendid, you do it and I'll get supper." Jack rushed out for stiff brown paper and ink, and the kind shopkeeper, who knew the children, learning what lie intended to do, gave him two large sheets of manila paper and showed tiim how to use a "grease crayon," / thereby saving the boy from innum- ' arable spatters of ink. Jack pur zhased the ten-cent flag on the spot and returned with his prize. Planning to write a headstone was one thing—quite another to do it. "We can't say "rected.'for it's goin' to be staked down; how would you aegin, Polly?" "My teacher says" (Polly's teacher was her unfailing standard) "if you're writing, to just tell what you've got to »ay as ahort as you can." "Let's see," and Jack printed rather crookedly, but clearly: / John DoYle. wccudeci oT BuLLfU DieD 6.T ... • sTncdT. "Do you remember when he died?" Jack asked, glad to rest a while, but delighted with his progress. "Why I wasn't bore. Jack! But can't we say his loving grandchildren have—have—fixed this to his mem ary?" "Why, Polly!" said Jack, admir ingly. "That's real tomb-stony! That's good enough for the monnymeut. Let's see;" and Jack sat with pencil poised, then, slowly and laboriously printed—Polly's bright eyes watching eagerly: fh»s is Writ M, t/ PoLLy WRR [m mems,R,y off ' "Oh, Jack! it's just lovely! And— oh—oh—l've got something!" and Polly, her bright face growing sweetly solemn, stepped to the old bureau and opened her most preoious possession —an old box which held her peculiar treasures. "Here's four of Mother's hairpins," she said, solemnly. "I've saved 'em, bat they'll be just the thing to fasten down the headstone —better than bits of wood." The children could hardly sleep from excitement. Bright and early they were about, stopping a moment to gaze rapturously on"the head atone," and to water the preoious wlii/ili snv flnriit wflnM have admired, so perfect were the bads and roses. Then Jack started out to black boots and attend to one or two furnaces, while Polly washed dishes and tidied rooms for three dif ferent families, receiving five cents from each. At noon they were ready to start, the roses carefully wrapped within the headstone, lest the sun wilt them, tho'flags carried by Polly. It was a long, long walk to Ever greens; but tbe children's rent was due in two days, and they dared not spend money on carfare. On they trudged, 'the thought of tbe honor to be done to Grandpa keeping Polly's tired feet going. But before they had accomplished a quarter of the distance Jack caught sight of a great express cart coming up the hill. "Hold on, there's a fellow I know. He'll take us in—he's first-class! Mr. B ," he called, "can you give us a lift?" "Certainly," and the good-natured expressman drew up for the children. THE OLD VETERAN AND THE NEW. sim^^Tm^ras BBAVE, WHO SINK TO BEST, BY ALL THEIB COUNTBg'S WISHES BLEST." "Going to Evergreens? Why, I'm taking a basket of plants there—l'll take you right along." And so, mucil earlier than they ex pected, Jack and Polly had "dee'rated" the old soldier's grave. The brown paper was carefully pinned down with the long wire hairpins, Polly kissing each one before she used it. The flags were placed at the foot, the roses at the head, and the children stood, well satisfied with the results. "Now, let's go and see some of the other dee'rations," said Jack, "and then we'll come back again." So they wandered from place to place. It was the poorest part of B 's poorest cemetery, yet there were some handsome gravestones, and many carefully kept plots. The children much enjoyed seeing the flowers, but agreed that "our grave" was the best of all. "The soldiers have covered every bit of the grave," said a tall girl, in a disappointed tone. "I like them to remember Grandpa, but—there is MAY BEMEUBEBED THE PRIVATES. nothing for us to do, and we hfcve so many flowers." "I have an idea," said Aunt Mary, who always had delightful ideas, if any one needed oheering. "Let's drive over to Evergreens; there may ha some graves there that we can decorate; it is what dear Grandpa would wish. You remember he often said: 'We officers get the glory, but the privates did the work.' " "That's a splendid plan; we'll start at once." It was a long drive, through miser able streets; but May and her aunt were used to suoh neighborhoods in their visits of charity. As soon as they entered Evergreens each watched for some soldier's grave. "Oh, Auuty, there's one. I see a flag! Two of them! John, John! Stop! What a queer thing! What is it?" and Mary knelt by the children's "headstone." "Aunty, Aunty!" the flowers—quickly!" said the impulsive girl, her eyes overflowing. "Oh, if I could only find Polly and John Kerr!" Aunt Mary came with lilies and heliotrope, hyacinths and geraniums —Mary would not have one other rose beside the lovely ones the childreu had laid there. Smilax was carefully wreathed about "the headstone," and then May rose, only half satisfied. " 'Forty-two Charles Street'—l think we might call there, Aunty." "Not to-day, dear, we are too late already. We must hurry home." "I'm afraid we've lost the way." "No, there's the big cross—Grand pa is just near there. I always know our grave by that. But I don't re member any other grave that was dee'rated. Polly!" Jack conld say no more, and Polly, catching sight of the wreath of flowers and smilax frame at the same moment, the children knelt, speechless with amazement. "Do you think it was angels?" asked Polly, in an awe-struck voice. "No," said Jack, sturdily; "it was this headstone that did it, PollJ*! somebody read that?" That was the proudest moment of Jack's life. Polly nodded her head, acquiescently, still too awe-struck for words. "And by next year we must have a real one!" "But the eddication!" "We'll do it all," said the boy, with a new confidence in his powers. "Now let's take a few of these home to re member the day by." They took a bit of heliotrope, a hyacinth and spray of smilax, and walked, with no sense of weariness, so exalted were they by what they had found, baok to the rooms which had been Grandpa's and Mother's, one of which they had managed to keep by toil almost incredible in such mere children. The next day seemed dull and prosy to Polly, as days do to all of us afterj unwonted excitement. The little gir had just settled down to study her lessons for the night school Jack and she attended, when there came a knock at the door. Polly opened it and was confronted by two ladies, one tall and slim, the other "fat and com fortable," as Polly told Jack. "There are our flowers," exclaimed May, who had given hor aunt no rest till she took her to 42 Charles street, "so you must be Polly Kerr." "Yes, ma'am," said, Polly, much surprised. This.was the first of many visits May made to the neat little room. The General's granddaughter be friended the old soldier's grandchil dren, and, with her help and counsel, Jack and Polly have "a real head stone." and—an education I. The Flag In tlie CUurd^^^^^ In these decorations in the Cranston Street Baptist Church, Providenoe, B. 1., a suggestion is given for Me morial Day decorations by the use of stacked arms and teuts, suggesting an army encampment. Hiram Snyclnr. The author of "Little Journeys to the Homes of American Statesmen" tella a story of the Civil War, when the days dragged gloomily, in antici pation of news from the front, and when grief was likely to overtake any who had boys in the ranks. He says: One night the postmaster was read ing aloud the names of the killed at Gettysburg, and he ran right onto the name of a youth we knew. The boy's father sat there on a nail-keg, chewing a straw. The postmaster, for his sake, tried to shuffle over tho name, and hurry onto the next. "Hi!" said the father. "Wha— what's that you said?" There was nothing to do but to face the issue, and the postmaster repeated with a forced calmness: "Killed—Snyder, Hiram." The boy's father stood up with a jerk. Then he sat down. Theu he stood up again, (staggered to the door, aud fumbled for the latch like a blind man. "God help him!" said the postmas ter, wiping his eyes with his red hand kerchief; "he's gone to tell the old woman." The minister preached a funeral sermon for the boy, and on the little pyramid that marked the family lot, in the burying-ground, they carveel the inscription: "Killed in honorable battle, Hiram Snyder, aged nineteen." Not long afterward, strange yellow, bearded men, in faded blue, began to arrive. Great welcomes were given them, and mauy a big gathering was held in their honor. At one such gathering, a ghost appeared, a lank, saffron ghost, ragged as a scarecrow, wearing the cape of a cavalryman's overcoat, with no coat beneath. The apparition was a youth of about twenty, with a downy beard all over his face, and a countenance well-mel lowed with coal soot, as if he had rid den several days on the top of a freight .car near the engine. The ghost was Hiran Snyder. We forgave him the shock of sur prise he had caused us, all except the minister, who had preached his funeral sermon. Years afterward I heard that minister remark, in a sol emn and aggrieved tone: "Hiram Snyder is a man who can not be relied upon!" A Historic Spot. Among the many places of interest which surround Americus, Ga., there is none so historic in its character or of which so much has been spoken aud written as Andersonville, the site of the old Confederate prison and the national cemetery, in which lie the re mains of over 13,000 Union soldiers. It lies eleven miles northeast of Ameri cus and can be reached by rail or car riage. The drive is a pleasant and picturesque one, the road winding among the hills and valleys and pass ing through forests of pine. Of the old prison pen, which was, in fact, nothing but a stockade inclosing thirty acres of land, through which runs Sweetwater Creek, little remains. gli Father of Memorial Day. When the few gray-haired veterans of the great war for the Union meet together in annual observance of Memorial Day few bear in mind that the day itself as a part of the national life is the result of the inspiration of the greatest of all the volunteer soldiers who fought for the flag, General John Alexander Logan, of Illinois. Few, indeed, of thoße not associated with the organization of old Boldiers re member this. But such is the fact. Decoration Day, 1000. For thera no more the cannons roar, The riot of charge or sally; No more they reel from the shook of steel Nor thrill when the drum beats "Rally!' Low they lie In the warm earth's breast, Breathe not of war above tbeml They conquered peace and a laureled rest And the whole broad land to love them DK. TALMAGE'S SERMON. SUNDAY'S DISCOURSE BY THE NOTED DIVINE. Subject: Tim Splendor* or Ilearpn— rinTT ever Exulted Our Idea* Miiy Be of the Howe on Ulgli, They Are Fur Short of the Keallty What Awaits Us. [Copyright IMHI.I Washington, D. C.—ln this discourse Dr. Talmage lifts the curtaiu from eternal felicities aud la an unusual way treats of tho heavenly world; text, I Corinthians, 11., 9, "Eye hath not seen nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God huth prepared for them that love Him." The city of Corinth lias been called "the Paris of antiquity." Indeed for Bplendor the world holds no such wonder to-day. It stood on an isthmus washed by two sens, the one sea bringing the commerce of Eu rope, the other sea bringing the commerce of Asia. From her wharfs. In tho con struction of which whole kingdoms had been absorbed, wur galleys with three banks of oars pushed out and confounded the nuvy yards of all the world. Huge banded machinery such as modern inven tion caunot equal lifted Bhlps from the sea on oneslde and transported them on trucks across the isthmus and set them down In the sea on the other side. The revenue officers of the elty went down through the olive groves that lined the beaoh to collect a tariff from all na tious. The mirth of ull people sported In her isthmian games, aud the beauty of alt lands sat in her theatres, walked in her porticos aud threw Itself on the altar of her stupendous dissipations. Column and statue itud temple bewildered the behold er. There were white marble fountains into which, from apertures at the side, there rushed waters everywhere known for health giving qualities. Around these basins, twisted Into wreaths of stone, there were all the beauties of sculpture and architecture, while, stand ing, as If to guard the costly display, was a statue of Hercules of burnished Corinth lan brass. Vases of terra cotta adorned the cemeteries of tho dead—vases 30 cost ly that Julius Ceesar was not sutisiled until he had captured them for Home. Armed officials, the Corliitbnrii, paced up aud down to see that 110 statue was defaced, no pedestal overthrown, no bas-relief touched. From the edge of the city a hill arose, witli Its magnificent burden of col umns, towers aud temples (1000 slaves waiting atone shrine), and a citadel so thoroughly Impregnable that Gibraltar Is a heap of sand compared with It. Amid all that strength and magnlllcence Corinth stood and detled tho world. Oh, it wus not to rustics who had never seen anything grand that Paul uttered this text. They had heard the best music that had some irom the best instruments in all the world; they had heard songs floating from morning porticoes and melting In eveulug groves; they had passed their whole lives among pictures and sculpture und architecture and Corinthian brass which had been molded and shaped uutil there was no chariot wheel in which it had not sped, and no tower in which It had not glittered, and no gateway that It had not adorned. Ah, it was a bold thing for Paul to stand there amll all that and say: "All this is nothing. These sounds that come from the temple of Neptune are not music compared with the harmonies of which I speak; the?e waters rushing in the bnsin of Pyrene ure not pure; these statues of Bac chus and Mercury are not exquisite; your citadel of Acrocorlnthus is not strong com pared with that which I offer to the poorest slave taut puts down 1113 burden at that bruzen gute. Your Corinthians think this is a splendid city; you think you have heard all sweet souuds and seen all beauti ful sights, but I tell you eye hath not seen nor ear heard, neither have entered Into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for thorn that love Him." l'ou see my text sets forth the Idea that, however exalted our Ideas of heaven, they •ome far short of the reality. Somewise men have been calculating how many fur longs long and wide is the new Jerusalem, und they have calculated how many Inhab itants there are on the eurth, how long tho earth will probably stand, und then they come to this estimate—that after all the nutlous have been gathered to heaven there will be room for each soul, a room sixteen feet long anifr fifteen feet wide. It would not bo enough for you; It would not be large enough for me. lam glad to know that no human estimnte is sufficient to take the dimensions. "Eye hath not seen nor ear heard" or arithmeti cians calculated. I first remark that we can get no idea of the health of heaven. When you were a child aud you wont out in the morning, how you bounded along the road or street. You had never felt sorrow or sickness. Perhaps later you felt aglow In youreheek aud a spring in your step and an exuber ance of spirits uutl a clearness of eye that made you thank God you were permitted to live. The nerves were harp strings, and the suulight was a doxology, and the rus tling of the robes of a great crowd rising up to pralso the Lord. You thought that you knew what It was to be well, but there is no perfect health on earth. The dis eases of past generations came down to us. The airs that now float upou the earth are not like those which floated above Para dise. They are charged with Impurities and distempers. The most elastic und ro bust health of earth, compared with that which those experience before whom the gates have been opened, Is nothlug but sickness and emaciation. Look at that soul standing before the throue. On earth she was a llfolong invalid. Bee her step now and hear her voice now. Catch, if you can, one breath of that celestial air. Health, in all the pulses, health of vision, healtn of spirits—lmmor tal health. No racking cough, no sharp pleurisies, no cousumlug fevers, no ex hausting pains, no hospitals of wounded men. Health swinging in the Hlr; health flowing In ull the streams; health bloom ing on the banks. No head uches, no side aches, no back aches. That child that died in the agonies of croup, hoar her voice now ringing In the autheui; that old man that went bowed down with the In firmities of age, see him walk now with the step of an immortal athlete, forever young agaiu. That night when the needlewoman fainted away In the garret a wave of the heavenly air resuscitated her forever. For everlasting years to have neither acho nor pain nor weakness, nor fatigue! "Eye hath not seen It; ear hath not heard it." I remark further that we can in this world get no Just idea of the splendors of Leaven. John tries to describe them. He says "twelve gates are twelve peurls" and thut "the foundations of the wall are garn ished with all manner of precious stones." As we stand looking through the telescope of St. John we see a blaze of amethyst and pearly aud emerald and surdonyx and chrysoprasus anJ sapphire, a mountain of light, a cataract of color, a sea of glass and a city like the suu. John bids us look again, and we see thrones —thrones of tho proph i ets, thrones of the patriarchs, thrones of the angels, thrones of the apostles, thrones of the martyrs, throne of Jesus, throne of God. And we turn round to see the glory, and it l« thrones, thrones, thronesl John bids us 1001l again and see the great procession of the redeemed passing. Jesus, on a white horse, leads the march, and all the armies of heaven follow ou white horses. lufluite cavalcade passing, passlug; empires pressing Into Hue; ages following ages; dispensation trainplug after dispensation; glory In the track of glory; Europe, Asia, Africa, North und South Aznerlca pressing Into lines; islands of the sea shoulder to shoulder; genera tions before the flood following genera tions after the flood, and as Jesus rises at the head of that great host nnd waves His sword in signal of victory all crowus are lifted und all ensigns swung out and all chimes rung and ull halleluiahs chanted and gome cry. 'Glory to Go<l roost hlghl" nml some. "Hosunna to the son of David!" ntii some, "Worthy Is tlie Lamb ttuit was slain!" till all exclamations of endearment aud homage In the vocabulary ot heaven urn exhausted aud there comes up surge after surge of "Amen! Amen! and Amen!" "Eve hath not seen It; ear hath not henril it." Bklm from the summer water* tlm brightest sparkles, anil yoa will get no idea of the sheen of the everlasting sen. Tile up tho splendors of earthly cities, ami they would not make a stepping stone by which you might mount to the city «>r God. Every bouse Is a palace; overy house Is a triumph; every covering of tlie head a coronation; every meal Is a banquet; every stroke fro» the tower Is a wedding l<eii; every duy is a jubilee, overy hour a rap ture and every moment an ecstasy. "Eye bath not seen It; ear hatn not heard It." I remark further we can get uo Idea of tho reunions of heaven. If you have over been across the seas and met a friend, or even an acquaintance, In some striiugn land, you remember how your IdooJ thrilled and how glad you were to see him. What will be our joy, after we have passed the seas of death, to meet In the bright city of the Lord those from whom we havo long been separated. After we have I eeu away from our friends ten or fifteen yoirs and we come upon them we see how dif ferently they look. Their hair has turned, aud wrinkles have come In their faees. and we say, "How you have changed!" Hut, oh, when we stand before the throne, all cares gone from the face, all marks or sorrow dlsappeare 1, aud. feeling the joy of that blessed land, metlilnks wo will say to each other, with an exultation wu uaii not now imagine, '-How you havo changed!" A little ehlld's mother bad died, and they comforted her. They said: "i'lln mother has gone to heaven. Don't erv.'' Aud the next day they went to tho grave yard, and they laid the body ot the mother down into the ground, and the little girl came up to the verge of tho grave and, looking down, said: "Is this heaven?" We have no Idea what heaven is. It is the grave here, it Is darkness here, but there is merrymaking yonder. Methlnks when a soul arrives some angel takes it around to show It the wonders of that blessed place. The usher angel says to the newly arrived: "These nro the martyrs that perished at Piedmont; these were torn to pieces at tho Inquisition; this Is the throne of the great Jehovah; this is Jesus." "I am going to see Jesus," said a dying boy; "I am going to see Jesus." The missionary said: "You are sure you will see Him?" "Oh, yes; that's what I want togo to heavon for." "But," said the missionary, "suppose Jesus should go away from heaven—what then?" "I should follow him," said the dying boy. "But if Jesus went down to hell—what then?" Tbedylug boy thought for a mo ment and then said, "Where Jesus Is there can be no belli" OU, to stand in his pres ence! That will be heaven! Oh, to put our hand into that hand which was wounded for us on the cross, togo around ami I tho gronps of the redeemed and shako hands with the prophets and apostles and mar tyrs anil with our owu dear beloved ones! That will bo the great reunion. Wo cannot imagine it now. Our loved ones seem so fur away. When we are In trouble and lone some, they don't seom to como to us. We go onto the banks of the Jordan and call across to them, but they do not seem to hear. We say, "Is it well with the child. Is It well with the loved ones?" anil we listen to bear If any voice comes back over the waters! None, none! Unbeliel says. "They are dead, and they are annihilated," bur, blessed bo God, we have a Bible that tells us different. We open it, and we And they are neither dead uor annihilated, that tliey were never so much alive as now, that tliey are onlv waiting for our coming and that we shall join them on the other side of tlio river. Oh, glorious reunion, we cannot grasp it now! "Eye hath not seen,uor e.ir heard, neither have entered into tho heart of inan, the things which God hath pre pared forthom that love Him." What n place of explanation It will be! I see every day profound mysteries of provi dence. There Is uo question we ask often er than why? There are huudreds of graves In Greenwood and Laurel Hill that need to be explained. Hospitals for th» blind and latne, asylums for the Idiotic aud insane, almshouses for the destitute and a world of pain aud misfortune that demand more than human solution. God wiil clear It all up. In the light that poms from the throne uo dark mystery can live. Tilings now utterly Inscrutable will bt> illumined as plainly as though the an swer were written on tho jasper wall or souuded In the temple anthem. Bar tlmeus will thank God that lie was blind nnd Joseph that be was cast Into tho pit and Daniel that bo denned with tho ilons and Paul that he was bump-'mcked and David that lie was driven from Jeru salem and that Invalid that for twenty year 9 he could not lift bis bend from tho pillow, and that widow that she bad such hard work to earn bread for her ohlldren. The song will be all tbegrauder for earth's weeping eyes and aching heads aud ex hausted hands and scourged backs and martyred agonies. But we cun get no Idea of that anthem bere. We appreciate the power of secular music, but do we ap preciate the power of sacred song? Thero is nothing more inspiring to me than a whole congregation lifted on tho wave of holy melody. When we sing some of those dear old psalms and tunes, they rouse all the memories of the past. Why, some of them were cradle songs in our father's house. Tliey are all sparkling with tho morning dew of a thousand ChristianSab buths. They were suug by brothers and sisters gone now, by voices that were aged and broken In the music, voices none tho less sweet because they did tremble ami break. When I hear these old songs snug. It seems ns If all the old country meeting bouses joined In the chorus and city ehuroli anil sailor's bethel aud western cabins un til the whole contluent lifU the Doxology and the scepters of eternity beat time In tho music. Away then with vonr starvel ing tunes that chill the devotlous of the sanctuary and mako the people sit silent when Jesus Is marching onto vlotory. Wbou generals como back from victorious wars, do we not oheer them and shout, "Huzza, huzza?" and when Jesus passes along In the conquest of the earth shall we not huve for Him one loud, rlugiu£ cheer? All hall the power of Jesus's name' I.et angels prostrate fall. Bring forth the royal diadem And crown Him Lord of all. But, my friends, If music on earth i>« so sweet what will It be In heaven? They all know the tune there. All the best singers of all the ages will join It, choirs of whlto robed children, choirs of patriarchs, choirs of apostles. Morning stars clapping their cymbals. Harpers with their harps. Great anthems of God roll on, roll on, other em pires joining the harmony till the thrones are all full and the nations all saved. Anthem shall touob anthem, chorus join chorus, and All the sweet sounds of earth und heaven be poured into the ear ot Christ. David of the barp will be there. Gabriel ot the trumpet will be there. Germany, re deemed, will pour Its deep, bass voice luto the soug, and Africa will add to the music with her matchless voices. I wish wo could anticipate that song. I wish in our closing hymn to-day we might catch an echo that slips from the gates. Who knows but that when the heavenly door opens to day to let some soul through there inuy come forth the strain ot the jubilant voices until we catch it? Ob, thut as the song drops down from heaven It might meet half way a song coining up from earth! They rise for the doxology, all the multi tude ot the blessed. Let us rise with tliom, and so at this hour the joys of the churcU on earth and the Joys of the cburcii li» heaven will mingle their chalices, and tho dark apparel ot our mourning will seem to whiten Into the spotless raiment of thu skies. God grart that through the mercy of our Lord Josus we may all get there!
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers