Year: 1866

'Home, thy joys are passing lovely


Joys no strangers heart can tell" ..H


What charm rests upon the endearing name
my home -consecrated by domestic love,
that golden key of human happiness. Without
this, home would be like a temple stripped of
it's garlands; there father welcomes with fond
affection; brothers kind sympathies comfort
in the hour of Distress and assist at every trial
there pious mother first taught the infant lips
to lisp the name Of Jesus, and there loved
sister dwells the companion of early days.


Truly, if there is alght that is lovely here be-
low, it is home-sweet home! 1t is like the
oasis Of the desert. The passing of our days
may be painful our path may be checkered by
sorrow and care; unkindness and frowns may
wither the ioyousness of the heart, efface the
happy smiles from the brow, and bedew life's
way with tears, yet, when memory hovers over
the past, there is no place in which it so delights
to Gnger as the loved scene of childhood's
home 1t is the polar star Of existence What
cheers the mariner, far away from his native
land in foreign port or tossed upon the bound
ing pillows, as he PAGES the deck at midnight
alone-what thoug ghts fill his breast? He is
thinking of the loved ones far away at his own
happy cottage In his mind S eye he sees the
smiling group seated around the cheerful fire
side. In imagination he hears them uniting
their voices In singing the sweet songs which he





shall return to his native land to greet those
absent ones dear to his heart.


Why rests the deep shade of sadness upon
the stranger brow, as he seats himself amid
the family circle? He is surrounded by all the
Injuries that wealth can afford happy faces
gather around him and strive in vain to win a
smile? All he is thinking of his own sweet
home: of the loved ones assembled in his own
cheerful cot.


Why those tears that steal down the cheeks
of that young and lovely girl, as she mingles in
the family circle? All she is an orphan; she,
too, had a happy home; it's loved ones are now
tie mother who watched over her infancy, and
hushed her to sleep with a lullaby which a
mother only can sing-who in girlhood's days
taught her of the Saviour, and tuned her youth
full voice to sing praises to His name, has gone
to the mansions of Joy above, and is mingling
her songs and tuning her golden harp with
bright angels in heaven. Poor one! she is now
left to thread the weary path Of life lonely,
homeless wanderer.


Thus it is in this changing world The OBJ
jects most dear are snatched away. We are de-
prived of the friends whom we most love, and
our cherished home is rendered desolate. pass
ing away" is engraved on all things earthly
But there is home that knows no change,
where separation never takes place,-where the
sorrowing ones of this world may obtain relief
for all their griefs, and where the sighs and
tears of earth are exchanged for unending songs
of Joy This home is found in heaven.
In the shadowy past there is one sweet rem
iniscence which the storm of life can never with
er; it is the recollection of home In the visi-
oned future there is one bright star whose lus-
tire never fades; it is the hope Of home-of a
heavenly home