UFFER little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of heaven.

T

O think the cold grave now must close
O'er what was once the chief

Of all the treasured joys of earth,-
This is a parent's grief.

Yet when the first wild throb is past
Of anguish and despair,

I lift the eye of faith to heaven,
And think my child is there!

HE parent mourns his child upon the bier;
The Christian yields an angel to his God.

HERE is no flock, however watched and tended,
But one dead lamb is there!

There is no fireside, howso'er defended,
But has one vacant chair.

The air is full of farewells to the dying,
And mournings for the dead;

The heart of Rachel, for her children crying,

Will not be comforted.

LONGFELLOW.

WERE sin to doubt these children's bliss,

Christ says of such the kingdom is.

THE MOTHER'S LOVE, THE FATHER'S PRIDE.

HE Lord gave, and the Lord taketh away; blessed be his name.

HE lamb is in the fold,

TE

In perfect safety penned;

The lion once had hold,

And thought to make an end.
But one came by with wounded side,
And for the sheep the Shepherd died.

HY memory, my little boy,

Shall ever check thy father's joy;
This little cell shall ne'er be free

From mournful thoughts to dwell with thee.
Until the Almighty call me thither,
Where we in joy shall meet together,

Here sleeps my babe in silence-heaven his rest!
For God takes soonest whom he loveth best.

HIS flower, that drooped in our cold clime,
Transplanted from the soil of time

To immortality,

In full perfection there shall bloom,
And those who now lament his doom

Must bow to God's decree.

LONE unto our Father's will,
LONI

One thought hath reconciled;
That he, whose love exceedeth ours,
Hath taken home his child.

APPROPRIATE TO YOUTH.

H! what a shadow o'er the heart is flung, When peals the requiem of the lov'd and young.

E sleeps! and oh! how fair a bloom
Death has prepared for the tomb,
In mouldering dust to lie.

The spirit smiles in that sweet face,
lineament I trace

In every

Its immortality.

HE "silver cord" is loosed,
Though held by fondest ties;
"The golden bowl is broken;"
In dust our loved one lies,
With sad sweet memories.

H

ERE lies embalm'd in careful parents' tears
A virgin branch, cropt in its tender years.

RUTH in his heart had all the warmth of love;
His chief delight its force and worth to prove;
A bright example in himself he shone,
So learn'd, so upright, and so good a son.

66 DIED IN JULY."

TRANGE it seemed to our aching hearts
To die on a day like this,-

That sorrow should come with its murky wing,
Over a scene of bliss;

That corn should flourish, and trees should wave,
And a million flowers should bloom;

And she who was fairer than all of them

Lies in the silent tomb.

HE maid is not dead but sleepeth."

'N beauty's bloom, adorned with every grace, Here a meek virgin consecrates the place, Ye fair approach, nor check the rising sigh, She once with all your rarest charms could vie. We feel our loss, yet own the chastening rod, And yield, in grief, our daughter to her God.

DAUGHTER duteous, and a sister kind,
In sickness patient, and in death resigned.

HEN the last wild thrill is past
Of anguish and despair,
To lift the eye of faith to heaven,
And think our son is there,
This best can dry the gushing tear,
This yields the heart relief,
Until the Christian's pious hope
O'ercomes the parent's grief.

IS cheerful watch some guardian angel keeps, Around the tomb where youth and virtue lie; Mourn then no more, her spirit only sleeps, Such worth, such genuine worth, can never die.

HE was but as a smile
Which glistens in a tear;
Seen but a little while,

But oh! how loved, how dear!

IERCING the grief when parents lose a son; More piercing still, to lose an only one;

What words can paint, what eloquence declare, The heartfelt pangs those parents long must bear!

C