POETRY.
HEAVEN AND HELL. 'Tires night, and busy to and fro On earth God's angels ran ; Life entered this low door,—and there Death cut life's little span.
'Twas night : I dreamed with opened eyes, I saw what spirits can.
I saw two souls set free shoot up
Into the awful blue,—
Nowhere in that strange flight they paused,.
No lingering glance they threw; But as some arrow to its goal, To the Far Gates they drew. Not then they paused, but entered. in, And I, too, entered there, And straightway heard upon the wind, Whose very breath was prayer, A voice that called those new-born souls Across the quiet air.
" Go thou. and serve !" the sentence came, " The name of Jean tell, Preserve from death some dying soul !"
—Athwart one face there fell A lengthening shadow, and I heard A muttered groan, of " Hell ! "
" Go thou and serve!" the soft voice said, " Make noon of life's dark even ; Guide frail ones through Earth's storms, and bring Again the souls God-given !"
I saw a rapturous, upturned face, Too blessed to answer,—" Heaven ! "
C. C. FRASER-TYTLER.
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