PARTING OF A MOTHER WITH HER CHILD.

He knew her not, that fair, young boy,

Though cradled on her breast,

He learn'd his earliest infant joy,

And took his nightly rest,

For stern disease had blanch'd the brow

Once to his gaze so dear,

And to a whisper chang'd the voice

That best he loved to hear.

So, stranger-like, he wondering gazed,
While wild emotions swell,

As with a deathlike, cold embrace,

She breathed her last farewell,

And to the Almighty's hand gave

The idol of her trust,

back

And with a glorious hope went down

To slumber in the dust.

Go, blooming babe, and early seek

The path she trod below,

And, still with Christian meekness, strive

To pluck the sting from woe

PARTING OF A MOTHER WITH HER CHILD.

That so, to that all-glorious clime,

Unmarked by pain or care,

Thou, in thy Saviour's strength mayest come

And know thy mother there.

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ALPINE FLOWERS.

MEEK dwellers 'mid yon terror-stricken cliffs,
With brows so pure, and incense-breathing lips,
Whence are ye?

Did some white-wing'd messenger

On mercy's mission, trust your timid germ
To the cold cradle of eternal snows,
And, breathing on the callous icicles,
Bid them with tear-drops nurse ye?

Tree nor shrub

Dare the drear atmosphere, no polar-pine
Uplifts a veteran front, yet there ye stand,
Leaning your cheeks against the thick-ribb'd ice,
And looking up with stedfast eye to Him,
Who bids ye bloom unblanch'd amid the realm
Of desolation.

Man who, panting, toils

O'er slippery steeps, or treads the dizzy verge
Of yawning gulfs, down which the headlong plunge

Is to eternity, looks shuddering up

And marks ye in your placid loveliness,

Fearless, yet frail; and clasping his chill hands. Blesses your pencil'd beauty. 'Mid the pomp Of mountain-summits rushing toward the sky, And chaining the wrapt soul in breathless awe, He bows to bind ye, drooping, to his breast, Inhales your spirit from the frost-wing'd gale, And freer dreams of heaven.

FAREWELL OF THE SOUL TO THE BODY.

COMPANION dear! the hour draws nigh,

The sentence speeds—to die, to die.
So long in mystic union held,

So close with strong embrace compell'd,
How canst thou bear the dread decree,

That strikes thy clasping nerves from me?
-To Him who on this mortal shore,
The same encircling vestment wore,

To Him I look, to Him I bend,

To Him thy shuddering frame commend.
-If I have ever caus'd thee pain,
The throbbing breast, the burning brain,
With cares and vigils turn'd thee pale,
And scorn'd thee when thy strength did fail—
Forgive! Forgive!—thy task doth cease,
Friend! Lover!-let us part in peace.
If thou didst sometimes check my force,
Or, trifling, stay mine upward course,