A MOTHER'S LAMENT OVER HER DEAD IN. FANT. How can I weep? the tear of pain But one hath whisper'd, Love! to thee, My baby, now for ever thine. ANONYMOUS. ON SEEING A DECEASED INFANT. AND this is death! how cold and still, But when I see the fair wide brow, Half shaded by the silken hair, That never look'd so fair as now, When life and health were laughing there, I wonder not that parents' eyes That weeps when earthly pleasure flies, And yet why mourn? that deep repose Once more I gaze-and swift and far Then let the burthen'd heart be free, Farewell! I shall not soon forget! We yet may meet where seraphs dwell, Nor breathes that withering word-farewell. W. B. PEABODY. REMEMBERED MUSIC. THE father sat and watch'd his boy, With all a father's woe; Fled was the rosy light of joy, And faded his young brow; Dark shades were gathering o'er its grace, And yet he linger'd still—at fits, A brief reviving beam, In melancholy beauty, flits Across his cheek, that gleam What soothes the little sufferer now? And his small feeble hand, with care, It play'd that simple careless tune, His pale cheek flush'd with joy; The organ past—and all forgot But the young sufferer knew the spot, And ever, as it took its round, His heart was soothed with that sweet sound. But ah! glad strains, and tender cares, Soon torn from all sweet sounds, he shares, The silence of the grave; And, with a cold, and breaking heart, The father sees his child depart. He takes him to his tomb-and then, But not one tear will flow: What stirs him from his deep despair, What wakens all his heart? It plays again that simple air And tears like rain-drops start; In every note-in every tone, And thoughts of tenderness and love And draw his spirit far above A world so sad and brief; The airs of heaven are in his ear- MISS ROSCOE. THE CHRISTIAN'S JOY AMIDST SUFFERINGS. THE children of God are not called to so sad a life as the world imagines; besides what is laid up for them in heaven, they have, even here, their rejoicings and songs in their distresses, as those prisoners had their psalms even at midnight, after their stripes, and in their chains, before they knew of a sudden deliverance. (Acts xvi. 25.) True, there may be a darkness within, clouding all the matter of their joy, but even that darkness is the seed-time of after-joy light is sown in that darkness, and shall spring up; and not only shall they have a rich crop at full harvest, but even some first fruits of it here, in pledge of the harvest. And this they ought to expect, and to seek after with minds humble and submissive as to the measure and time of it, that they may be partakers of spiritual joy, and may by it be enabled to go patiently, yea, cheerfully, through the tribulations and temptations that lie in their way homeward. And for this end they ought to endeavour after a more clear discerning of their interest in Christ, that they may know they partake of Him and 0, |