Ask of God To arm thy heart, even as the stripling youth ON THE LOSS OF A WIFE. I HAVE been just informed of the loss of your dear wife. She was mortal; but she has now be come immortal. Should this cause you to grieve immoderately? O that I was where she is now! "Safe landed on that peaceful shore, Where pilgrims meet to part no more." She was once a mourning sinner in the wilderness; but is now a glorified saint in Zion. The Lord has become her "everlasting light, and the days of her mourning are ended." Does this overwhelm you? She was once afflicted with bodily pains and weakness, encompassed with family cares, and harassed with a crowd of anxious needless fears; but she is now arrived at her father's house; and Jesus has wiped away all tears from her eyes; and freed her in a moment from pain, and care, and fear, and want; and shall this make you sorrow, as those who have no hope? You have not left your wife; she has only left you for a little moment; left her husband on earth, to visit her Father in heaven; and expects your arrival there soon, to join her hallelujahs for redeeming love. And are you still weeping? weeping because your wife can weep no more,-weeping because she is happy, -eternally, gloriously happy, -weeping, because she is joined to the blessed as sembly where all are kings and priests, weeping, because she is, where you would be, and long to be eternally. The Lord Jesus has called her home to his kingdom, to draw your soul more ardently thither, he has broken up a cistern, to bring you nearer, and keep you closer to the overflowing fountain of all felicity BERRIDGE. REMINISCENCES. "YES, I behold again the place, "The night-bird's song that sweetly floats "Lo! yonder shines that window's light, When those dear eyes can shine no more. "Then hurry from this place away! It gives not now the bliss it gave; For Death has made its charm his prey, And joy is buried in her grave." CRABBE THE FATHER TO HIS MOTHERLESS CHILDREN. 95 THE FATHER TO HIS MOTHERLESS CHILDREN. COME, gather closer to my side, You're weary, precious ones, your eyes 'Tis time to sing your evening hymn, Begin, sweet birds, the accustom'd strain, Good-night-go say the prayer she taught, Beside your little bed, The lips that used to bless you there, A father's hand your course may guide His care protect those shrinking plants Who touch the strings that rule the soul? MRS. SIGOURNEY. A WIDOWER'S ADDRESS TO THE SPIRIT OF HIS PLEDGE of a Love, as pure and deep Recall thee from the couch of rest, Thy advent to this earth again, Watch'd thy first brightening hours of bliss, Fled to a world beyond the sky, I deem'd not Fate could have in store But soon by dire experience taught, The passions of that hour are past, And brokenly my heart lives on; Yet looking on thy sun-bright tress, Unlocks the source of dried-up tears; And thoughts intense and maddening press On my hot brain :-though hopes or fears, Since thou and thy sweet mother perish'd, Have ne'er by me been felt or cherish'd! Blossom of love! yes, on my mind Sweet Baby mine, farewell! farewell! |