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Undo its sweetest link-and so at last

The fountain-that, once struck, must flow for ever,

Will hide and waste in silence, when the smile
Steals to her pallid lips again, and spring
Wakens the buds above thee, we will come,
And standing by thy music-haunted grave,
Look on each other cheerfully, and say,—
A child that we have loved is gone to Heaven;
And by this gate of flowers she passed away.

Willis.

'TWERE VAIN TO TELL US NOT TO WEEP.

"Twere vain to tell us not to weep

When mem'ry opes the tomb,

When buried joys in darkness sleep

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Then weep we may, and often must,

Yet not for those no more,

But rather for the living dust

That would the dead restore.-Montgomery.

ON THE DEATH OF MY LITTLE SON.

Can I, who have for others oft compiled
The songs of death, forget my sweetest child,
Which like a flower, crush'd with a blast, is dead,
And ere full time hangs down his smiling head
Expecting with clear hope to live anew
Among the angels, fed with heavenly dew?
We have this sign of joy, that many days,
While on this earth his struggling spirit stays,
The name of Jesus in his mouth contains
His only food, his sleep, his ease from pains;
Oh, may that sound be rooted in my mind,
Of which in him such strong effect I find.
Dear Lord, receive my son, whose winning love
To me was like a friendship, far above
The course of nature, or his tender age:
Whose looks could all my bitter griefs assuage.
Let his pure soul, ordain'd seven years to be
In that frail body, which was part of me,
Remain my pledge in heaven, as sent to show
How to this port at every step I

go.

Sir John Beaumont.

D

CONSOLATION.

The light of smiles shall fill again

The lids that overflow with tears,

And weary hours of woe and pain
Are promises of happier years.

There is a day of sunny rest

For every dark and troubled night,
And grief may bide an evening's guest,
But joy shall come with early light.

DEATH OF THE ONLY GIRL.

I lov'd to watch her fairy form, as she climb'd her father's knee;

I lov'd to watch her deep blue eyes, beaming with joy and glee.

I lov'd to watch her golden curls, waving with such

a grace,

And adding to the brightness of her lovely little face.

I lov'd to watch her gentle ways, her sweet and winning smile;

And I thought I never knew a child so free from sin or guile.

But now upon that angel form, I never more shall

gaze,

Nor watch with such delight again, those sweet and winning ways:

For death hath come quite suddenly, and crept into our bowers,

And snatch'd away this little bud, the fairest of our flowers ;

"Twas only to transplant her to a more congenial

soil,

Where she would be for ever free from earthly care or toil :

So gently was her spirit borne to realms of bliss above,

Where she is now enjoying her Saviour's care and

love.

WHEN A MOTHER MEETS ON HIGH.

Oh! when a mother meets on high
The babe she lost in infancy,

Hath she not then for pains and fears,
The day of woe, the watchful night,
For all her sorrows, all her tears,

An over payment of delight?-Southey.

WHERE IS THE SPIRIT GONE?

Answer me, burning stars of night,
Where is the spirit gone

That past the reach of human sight
As a swift breeze hath flown?

And the stars answered me, "We roll
In light and power on high:
But of the never-dying soul,

Ask that which cannot die."

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