I am bereaved and stricken; but, for him

What must he suffer, who has shared thy life! Thou calm, pure sunbeam, who didst strive to win

His thoughts from earth-his loved and loving wife. Strength for the mourner lone! and may he bear The presence of his guardian angel, everywhere.

Said he not 'twas thy prayers for him that stirred
The fountains of his soul-giving new light?—
Touched, as with coals of fire, the inspired word,

And making what was dark, serenely bright?
Thy mission was fulfilled; why linger here,
Where Faith's bright pinions often droop with fear?

Thy last words, dearest, can I e'er forget

Not 'till this heart is cold-these eyes are dim. Thy parting words !-and now, with eyelids wet, I sit alone, while thou art safe with Him. "Now, you will come?" thou saidst, with earnest tone: "I will, I will"—but thy sweet spirit's flown.

Flown, 'ere that interview was granted me,
Which I so pined for, in thy earthly home;
But, in the "spirit of a bended knee,"

I do accept it now; then, should I roam,
The invitation of my angel friend
Shall stay my erring feet-new vigor lend.

I looked on thy pale brow and wavy hair,
And read, with chastened heart, bright prophecies;
I turn from the cold grave-thou art not there,
. But crowned with fadeless flowers, in Paradise!
Sweet sister, fare thee well! "Tis hard to part;
But God has claimed his own-" the pure in heart."

66

TO MRS. W. S.

The stricken heart is Heaven's peculiar care."

I feel for thee; but well I know

That sorrow, such as thine,
Cannot be soothed by hollow words,
Nor senseless, jingling rhyme.
I feel for thee; and therefore has
My pen been silent long ;

But not my heart, for that has throbbed
With feeling deep and strong.

But I would pause, 'ere line of mine
Should pass before thine eye,

Assured it sprung from that pure source-
Unchanging sympathy.

Yes; it is true that grief and pain

Called forth each simple lay

That I have sung; and still, dear friend, I sing for thee to-day.

Death has been busy in thy home;

The early loved are fled:

The early loved and fondly prized

Are numbered with the dead.
A deeper shade is on thy brow—
A withering sense of blight
To all earth's pure and lovely flowers,
That ope to morning light.

And I in spirit turn to thee,
And clasp thy trembling hand.
Thou'st quaffed the cup of bitterness,
And joined the mourner's band.

Thou plighted thy young heart to him, While girlhood's mantling bloom Played warmly on thy fresh young cheek, And life was void of gloom.

And thou hast journeyed, hand in hand,
The thorny paths of life;

But now, the widowed one must brave
The battle's stormy strife.

Yet not alone, pale mourner: no ;—
Thou and thine orphan girl

Are shielded by that power, unseen,
'Midst life's unceasing whirl.

"The ear of Heaven bends low" to those
Whose hearts with grief are riven;
For they are His peculiar care,
Who long with pain have striven;
I feel for thee-for all who mourn;
And gladly, on this day,

I would pour the balm of healing,
And light the darkened way.

But there is One, who rules the world.
"A sparrow cannot fall"
Unheeded by his pitying eye,

That watches over all.

May He, pale mourner, speak to thee,

And teach thee, all is vain,

Save love, the beautiful the true

That leads us home again.

то

When I am gone, and thou art not, and the
Cold world looks on me, and I am lonelier
Than before, feeling regret for thee and thine;
Let memory sometimes dwell, for one short
Moment, on the weeping cloud that passed thee
By so fleetingly.
ANONYMOUS.

I am leaving thee, dear one, 'mong strangers to roam : I am leaving the friend who has brightened my home; But when far away, 'mid new faces the while,

I ne'er can forget thy heart-welcome and smile.

Oh! we know not how oft, when the heart is o'erpressed;
When the sun of bright hope has sunk low in the breast;
We know not a smile or a word has the power
To dispel the dark clouds, in that threatening hour.

But to me, thy loved presence has often beguiled
My mind from sad thoughts that were driving me wild;
And I've felt that though suffering should aye be my lot,
The path thou didst point out could ne'er be forgot.

And now, when the calm, holy hour arrives,
Thou 'lt see the bright star of pure love in the skies
Then think of me, dearest, and send up a prayer
That the Angel of Peace may dwell with me there.

;

And, oh! let us cherish the good which doth dwell
In the hearts of us both, there weaving a spell
That ne'er shall be broken; and when we depart,
We'll know that though absent, we're still one in heart.

TO ONE WHO HAD BEEN BEREAVED OF HER YOUNGEST

AND ONLY REMAINING SISTER.

"Speak to the mourner words of sweet comfort,
For anguish hath riven her heart to its core;

The strong waves of sorrow like tempests have driven;
Her heart's dearest idol-she'll see here no more."

Yes; I would speak, to soothe thy saddened heart,
And I would tell thee how mine own hath bled;
But I should fail: still, let not hope depart;

"She is not here: she 's risen," the Saviour said.

I knew her not; though her image was shrined
In the deepest recess of thy heart.
There, from childhood and youth it lovingly twined,
And no power could bid it depart,

I knew her not, though her presence was dear
To the sorrowing tried ones of earth;

Though her balm-like voice soothed the weary heart's fear,
And the Church proved her genuine worth!

I knew her not; but my tears, they shall flow
For the anguish that dwells in thy breast.
'Tis a wail of despair from the "last one," I know,
Who looks upward, and yearneth for rest.

Thou mournest, to think thou wert far from her side,
When her spirit was taking its flight

To that far-off' home, where the weary abide,
And their darkness is turned into light.