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THE MOURNER'S COMFORT.

BY ARCHDEACON SPENCER.

"BLESSED ARE THEY THAT MOURN, FOR THEY SHALL BE COMFORTED." Matt. iv. 5.

SWEET, falls the shower on Sharon's leaves,

Sweet, sighs the gale o'er India's billow,
Sweet, float the forms which fancy weaves
Around her poet's dreaming pillow,
Sweet, is the virgin-treasured kiss,

When lips with lips unchanging meet,
Sweet, the first throb of bridal bliss,
The untold hope of passion sweet;

Sweet, to the exile's widow'd ear

The notes of home remember'd long; And sweet to speak, and sweet to hear, The music of his native tongue— Sweet, from the gheber's perfumed urn, Their sunward way his offerings find, Sweeter the prodigal's return,

Sweetest the Christian's will resigned.

Bright is the wild wave's sparkling foam,
Bright blooms the fruit in Seville's grove,
Bright glows the cheerful hearth of home,
Brighter the eye of answered love;
Bright the Peruvian's golden chain,

Bright in Brazilian mines the gem,
Brighter Herodias' gorgeous train,
Brightest the Baptist's diadem.