ended.
There's a home for the sad, and their hearts will be glad
When they've crossed over Jordan so dreary;
For bright is the dome of that radiant home
Where so softly repose all the weary."

The "home for the poor on that beautiful shore" seemed to be almost in
sight of the singer, for the pale, dying girl spread heaven around her;
and Fanny sang as she had never sung before. She could hardly keep down
the tears which struggled for birth in her dim eyes, and her sweet
voice was attuned to the sentiment of the words she sang, which were
wedded to a melody so touching as to suggest the heaven it spoke of.

There was a seraphic smile on the wan face of Jenny as the singer
finished the first verse, and she clasped her thin white hands above
her breast in the ecstasy of her bliss. Fanny sang the four verses of
the hymn, and every moment of the time seemed to be a moment of rapture
to the dying girl.

"How beautiful!" cried Jenny, after a period of silence at the
conclusion of the hymn. "I have never been so happy, Fanny. Let me take
your hand in mine again."

"Can I do anything more for you?" asked Fanny, as she gave her hand to
the invalid.

"No, nothing. It will make you tired to sing any more now."

"O, no! I could sing all day."

"But the sweet strains you have just sung still linger in my soul. Let
me hold your hand a moment, and then I will go to sleep if I can. I
like to hold your hand--you are so good."

Fanny despised herself. She wanted to tell Jenny what a monster of
wickedness she felt herself to be, and she would have done so if it had
not been for giving pain to the gentle sufferer.

"I would like to go to heaven now, holding your hand, and mother's, and
Eddy's; for it seems to me I could carry you up to the Saviour with me
then, and give you all to him; and he would love you for my sake, and
because you are so good. But I shall never forget you; I shall bear
your name to heaven with me, Fanny."

The wicked girl shuddered. "Depart from me," seemed to be the only
message the Saviour had for her.

"Let me do something more for you," said Fanny, who could not endure to
be called good by one who was so near heaven that there could be no
hypocrisy or shadow of deceit in her heart.

"You may sing me one more hymn, if you are not too tired," replied
Jenny.

"O, no! I am never tired of singing;" and she sang the song containing
the refrain, "There is sweet rest in heaven," with e