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There lies a little city in the hills. White are i:s roofs, dim In eacb dwellIng's door, And peace withperfectrest lts bosom filis: There the pure mist, the pily of the sea, Comes as a white soft hand and reacnea o 'er. And touches its still face most tniulerly. . ' Unstirred and calm, amid our shifting years, Lo! where it lies, far from the clasli and roar, With (niet dlst&nce blnrred, as if througli tears. O heart, that prayest so for God to send Somc loving niessenger to go bef ore, And leail the way to where thy longings end; Be BUre, be very sure, that soon will come 1 1 is kindest angel, and through that still door Intotliü [nfinlte Love willlead thee home.