A BEREAVED FATHER'S ASSURANCE.

The

LIKE you, my friend, I have been called to witness the unexpected departure of my children. Two of them I committed to the same grave, where they sleep the sleep of death. They were growing up together like two young flowers, which had intertwined their tendrils, and mingled their sweet fragrance, but which were suddenly withered by the same rude blast. Like them, these children were lovely in their lives, and in death they were not divided. same storm overwhelmed them both. They lie, as it were, arm in arm, and side by side, in the same deep and narrow bed of earth, until they awake in the morning of the resurrection. Nor do they lie alone; their narrow bed has been uncovered to receive another sleeper, the victim of a similar malady, whose sun of brightest promise went down while my heart was still rejoicing in the beauty of its day-spring.

It was when tossed upon that sea of trouble in which these sudden visitations involved me, I was led to the full investigation of the question of the salvation of infants. That examination more than confirmed my hopes. It strengthened them into A COMFORTABLE ASSURANCE

THAT IN THE DEATH OF INFANTS, IT IS WELL WITH THEM, AND WELL WITH THEIR PARENTS

- that God's purposes are merciful to both and that while he glorifies himself in the exaltation of the children to heaven, he would also secure by such afflictions the sanctification and the salvation of their parents. - Rev. Dr. Smyth's Solace for Bereaved Parents.

BEREAVEMENT.

NAY, weep not, dearest, though the child be dead, He lives again in heaven's unclouded life, With other angels that have early fled

From these dark scenes of sorrow, sin, and

strife;

Nay, weep not, dearest, though thy yearning love Would fondly keep for earth its fairest flowers, And e'en deny to brighter realms above

The few that deck this dreary world of ours: Though much it seems a wonder and a wo

That one so loved should be so early lost, And hallowed tears may unforbidden flow To mourn the blossom that we cherished most: Yet all is well; God's good design I see, That where our treasure is, our hearts may be! J. G. SAXE.

BABY'S SHOES.

O, THOSE little, those little blue shoes!
Those shoes that no little feet use!
O, the price were high

That those shoes would buy,
Those little blue unused shoes!

For they hold the small shape of feet
That no more their mother's eyes meet,
That, by God's good will,
Years since grew still,

And ceased from their totter so sweet!

And O, since that baby slept,

So hushed, how the mother has kept,
With a tearful pleasure,

That dear little treasure,

And over them thought and wept!

For they mind her for evermore

Of a patter along the floor;

And blue eyes she sees

Look up from her knees

With the look that in life they wore,

As they lie before her there,

There babbles from chair to chair,

A little sweet face

That's a gleam in the place, With its little gold curls of hair.

Then, O, wonder not that her heart
From all else would rather part
Than those tiny blue shoes

That no little feet use,

And whose sight makes such fond tears start.

W. C. BENNETT.

WE ARE SEVEN.

A SIMPLE child,

That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death?

I met a little cottage girl;

She was eight years old, she said; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head.

She had a rustic, woodland air,
And she was wildly clad;
Her eyes were fair, and very fair,
Her beauty made me glad.

"Sisters and brothers, little maid, How many may you be?”

"How many? Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me.

"And who are they? I pray you, tell."
She answered, "Seven are we;
And two of us at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea.

"Two of us in the churchyard lie,
My sister and my brother;
And in the churchyard cottage, I
Dwell near them with my mother."

"You say that two at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea,

Yet ye are seven !- I pray you tell, Sweet maid, how this may be."

Then did the little maid reply,
"Seven boys and girls are we;
Two of us in the churchyard lie,
Beneath the churchyard tree."

"You run about, my little maid,
Your limbs they are alive;

If two are in the churchyard laid,
Then ye are only five.".