One short and happy year

Thou smiled'st on us below; We hoped to keep thee here

Till we were called to go;

But God takes back the blessings lent, Though we our weaker claims present.

To thee it was not given

To speak with mortal tongue; The dialect of heaven

Already hast thou sung.

Too hard our speech-too slow our ways; Angels must teach thee words of praise.

What we cannot discern,

Thine eyes can plainly see ; How much have we to learn,

If we would equal thee!

Thine infant spirit near the throne,

Excels all mind that Earth hath known.

Our selfish hearts had bound thee

To hold thee back from bliss;
Now glory beams around thee
In brighter worlds than this.
Farewell, till guardian angels come
To bear us to thy happy home.

REV. DUDLEY PHELPS.

THE SPHERE OF CHILDREN IN HEAVEN.

DOES it not cast a nameless charm around an early death, to consider how entirely hidden from a child are all the black spots in this world of sin? Escaping not only the pollution of the world, but the knowledge that it exists-being old enough to trust the Saviour, though too young to know the dire effects of sin-they experience just enough of the evil of the fall to bring them in as subjects of the redemption. The little ones of Christ's flock are taken to the heavenly fold without coming into open contact with the destroyer of souls, and ere he has had time to spread his gilded baits before their eyes. The "depths of Satan"- those mysteries of evil by which he enslaves millions of victims -are all unknown to them. They have never been bound down by the iron chain of habit. Nor have they encountered temptations demanding a constant warfare, as those who have come to mature years, and who may have received the largest measures of the Spirit, know to their cost. Are they not then qualified for a different mission in the economy of the kingdom of heaven, and for holding a different place in the glorified company-even as those who have endured a

great fight of afflictions and been pre-eminent exhibitions of God's grace are thereby fitted for a higher sphere? May we not suppose that their Father in heaven, who early transplants so many of these little ones thither, has some special design to serve some work for them in His house above "for of such is the king

dom of heaven?"

THE WAY HOME.

THE CHILD-ANGEL.

WITH what unknown delight the mother smiled, When this frail treasure in her arms she

But how the gift transcends the poor request! A child was all she asked, with many a vow; Mother, behold the child an angel now!

Now in her Father's house she finds a place;
Or, if to earth she take a transient flight,

"T is to fulfil the purpose of His grace,

To guide thy footsteps to the world of light ;

A ministering spirit sent to thee,

That where she is, there thou may'st also be.

JANE TAYLOR.

BABIE BELL.

HAVE you not heard the poet tell
How came the dainty Babie Bell
Into this world of ours?

The gates of heaven were left ajar:
With folded hands and dreamy eyes

She wandered out of Paradise!

She saw this planet, like a star,
Hung in the depths of purple even
Its bridges, running to and fro,
O'er which the white-winged seraphs go,
Bearing the holy dead to heaven!

She touched a bridge of flowers—those feet,
So light they did not bend the bells
Of the celestial asphodels!

They fell like dew upon the flowers!
And all the air grew strangely sweet!
And thus came dainty Babie Bell
Into this world of ours!

She came, and brought delicious May!

The swallows built beneath the eaves;

Like sunbeams in and out the leaves, The robbins went, the live-long day: The lily swung its noiseless bell,

And o'er the porch the trembling vine
Seemed bursting with its veins of wine!·

O, earth was full of pleasant smell,
When came the dainty Babie Bell
Into this world of ours!

O Babie, dainty Babie Bell!
How fair she grew from day to day!
What woman-nature filled her eyes,
What poetry within them lay!
Those deep and tender twilight eyes,

So full of meaning, pure and bright,
As if she yet stood in the light

Of those oped gates of Paradise!

And we loved Babie more and more:
O never in our hearts before

Such holy love was born:

We felt we had a link between
This real world and that unseen

The land of deathless morn!

And for the love of those dear eyes,

For love of her whom God led forth

The mother's being ceased on earth

When Babie came from Paradise!
For love of Him who smote our lives,

And woke the chords of joy and pain,

We said, "Sweet Christ!"-our hearts bent down Like violets after rain!