calls for His own? Was not your heart sincere in the resignation of them? Show then, madam, the sincerity of your heart in leaving them in the hand of God. Do you say, the are lost? Not out of God's sight, and God's world, though they are gone out of your sight and our world. "All live to God." You may hope the spreading covenant of grace has sheltered them from the second death. They live, though not with you. Are you ready to complain, you have brought forth for the grave? It may be so, but not in vain. Is. 64: 25. -"They shall not labor in vain, nor bring forth for trouble (i. e. for sorrow without hope); for they are the seed of the blessed of the Lord, and their offspring with them." This has been a sweet text to many a mother, when their children are called away betimes. DR. WATTS. REMEMBRANCE OF THE DEAD. WE are forbidden to murmur, but we are not forbidden to regret; and whom we loved tenderly while living, we may still pursue with an affectionate remembrance, without having any occasion to charge ourselves with rebellion against the sovereignty that appointed a separation. THE DEAD CHILD. FEW things appear so beautiful as a young Ichild in its shroud. The little innocent face looks so sublimely simple and confiding among the cold terrors of death. Crimeless and fearless that little mortal has passed alone under the shadow. There is death in its sublimest and purest image; no hatred, no hypocrisy, no suspicion, no care for the morrow, ever darkened that little face; death has come lovingly upon it; there is nothing cruel or harsh in its victory. The yearnings of love indeed cannot be stifled; for the prattle and smile-all the little world of thoughts, that were so delightful—are gone forever. Awe, too, will overcast us in its presence, for the lonely voyager; for the child has gone, simple and trusting, into the presence of an allwise Father; and of such, we know, is the kingdom of heaven. NOT IN VAIN. Oн, not in vain thy life! Thou hast not sown, Yet the rich harvest reapest as thy own; Hast never borne the cross, yet gained the skies. THE LOST LAMB. LOST lamb! there is a starry fold Far from this sphere of doubt and gloom Have angels crowned thee. Sweet, perished bud of promise rare! Safe from the troubles that molest Earth's pilgrim toward the sunset hieing, If earnest prayer could bring him back, Hope's star is burning — Where Sorrow, with a trembling hand, W. H. C. HOSMER. THE FIRST-BORN. WE laid thee down in sinless rest, and from thine infant brow Culled one soft lock of radiant hair- our only Then placed around thy beauteous corse, flowers, not more fair and sweet; Twin rosebuds in thy little hands, and jasmine at thy feet. Though other offspring still be ours, as fair chance as thou, per With all the beauty of thy cheek—the sunshine of thy brow, They never can replace the bud our early fond ness nurst, They may be lovely and beloved, but not like thee- the first! The first! How many a memory bright that one sweet word can bring Of hopes that blossomed, drooped, and died, in life's delightful spring; Of fervid feelings passed away-those early seeds of bliss, That germinate in hearts unseared by such a world as this! My sweet one, my sweet one, my fairest, and my first! When I think of what thou might'st have been, my heart is like to burst; But gleams of gladness through the gloom their soothing radiance dart, And my sighs are hushed, my tears are dried, when I turn to what thou art! Pure as the snow-flake ere it falls and takes the stain of earth, With not a taint of mortal life, except the mortal birth, God bade thee early taste the spring for which so many thirst; And bliss-eternal bliss-is thine, my fairest, and my first! ALARIC A. WATTS. |
