And we fondly trust in our glittering dust,
As a refuge from grief and pain,
Till our limbs are laid on that last dark bed,
Where the wealth of the world is vain.

And is it thus, from man's birth to his grave--
In the path which all are treading?
Is there naught in that long career to save
From remorse and self-upbraiding?
O yes, there's a dream so pure, so bright,
That the being to whom it is given,
Hath bathed in a sea of living light--
And the theme of that dream is Heaven.

* * * * *



THE LECTURER

* * * * *


AN EXCERP FROM ABERNETHY'S LECTURES.


When I was speaking of the cure of the digestive organs, I spoke of
stomachic irritation, and said it was occasioned by some morbid
peculiarity. It is difficult to find out the exigents; it must be done by
experiment. We give a medicine, it answers. The digestive organs have such