"My Lord has need of these flowerets gay,'

The Reaper said, and smiled;

"Dear tokens of the earth are they,

Where he was once a child.

"They shall all bloom in fields of light,
Transplanted by my care,

And saints, upon their garments white,
These sacred blossoms wear."

And the mother gave, in tears and pain,
The flowers she most did love;

She knew she should find them all again
In the fields of light above.

O, not in cruelty, not in wrath,
The Reaper came that day;

'T was an angel visited the green earth,
And took the flowers away.

EARLY LOST, EARLY SAVED.

WITHIN her downy cradle there lay a little child, And a group of hovering angels unseen upon her smiled.

A strife arose among them, a loving, holy strife, Which should shed the richest blessing over the new-born life.

One breathed upon her features, and the babe in beauty grew,

With a cheek like morning's blushes, and an eye of azure hue;

Till every one who saw her was thankful for the

Of

sight

a face so sweet and radiant with ever fresh

delight.

Another gave her accents, and a voice as musical

As a spring-bird's joyous carol, or a rippling streamlet's fall;

Till all who heard her laughing, or her words of childish grace,

Loved as much to listen to her, as to look upon her face.

Another brought from heaven a clear and gentle

mind,

And within the lovely casket the precious gem

enshrined;

Till all who knew her wondered that God should

be so good

As to bless with such a spirit our desert world and rude.

Thus did she grow in beauty, in melody, and

truth,

The budding of her childhood just opening into

youth,

And to our hearts yet dearer every moment than

before

She became, though we thought fondly heart could not love her more.

Then outspake another angel, nobler, brighter than the rest,

As with strong arm, but tender, he caught her to his breast

“Ye have made her all too lovely for a child of mortal race,

But no shade of human sorrow shall darken o'er her face:

"Ye have tuned to gladness only the accents of her tongue,

And no wail of human anguish shall from her lips be wrung;

Nor shall the soul that shineth so purely from within

Her form of earth-born frailty e'er know the taint of sin :

"Lulled in my faithful bosom, I will bear her far away,

Where there is nor sin, nor anguish, nor sorrow, nor decay :

And mine a boon more glorious than all the gifts shall be,

Lo! I crown her happy spirit with immortality.”

Then on his heart our darling yielded up her gentle breath,

For the stronger, brighter angel, who loved her best, was Death.