To smile and listen while it talks,
And lend a finger while it walks-
This is a mother's love.

And can a mother's love grow cold?
Can she forget her boy?
His pleasing innocence behold,

Nor weep for grief-for joy?
A mother may forget her child,
While wolves devour it on the wild,—
Is this a mother's love?

Ten thousand voices answer, "No!"
Ye clasp your babes and kiss;
Your bosoms yearn, your eyes o'erflow,
Yet, ah! remember this-

The infant rear'd alone for earth,
May live, may die, to curse his birth—
Is this a mother's love?

A parent's heart may prove a snare;
The child she loves so well,

Her hand may lead with gentlest care
Down the smooth road to hell:
Nourish its frame-destroy its mind;
Thus do the blind mislead the blind,
E'en with a mother's love.

Blest infant!- whom his mother taught

Early to seek the Lord!

And pour'd upon his dawning thought

The day-spring of the word;

This was the lesson to her son-
Time is eternity begun :

Behold that mother's love!

Blest mother!-who, in wisdom's path,
By her own parent trod,

Thus taught her son to flee the wrath,
And know the fear of God-

Ah, youth, like him, enjoy your prime,
Begin eternity in time,

Taught by that mother's love.

That mother's love!

how sweet the name !

What was that mother's love?

The noblest, purest, tenderest flame
That kindles from above,

Within a heart of earthly mould,
As much of heaven as heart can hold,
Nor through eternity grow cold;

This was that mother's love.

A FATHER'S LOVE.

Sames Montgomery.

A FATHER's love!-oh, yes, there is
A magic in the name!

A child's-a brother's-sister's-this
Is love, but not the same:

Nor all their bosoms' warmest glow,
The feelings of the father show-
This is a father's love.

Oh, knows he not a thousand cares,
A something sweet begun,

Ere the dear pledge the mother bears
Smiles on the smiling sun?

And then he presses to his breast

The form the mother hath caress'd-
This is a father's love.

And as upon the mother's heart,
The pillowed head doth lie,
And mutual glances joy impart
In either parent's eye;

What pride his manly bosom moves
To see his form, or hers he loves!
This is a father's love.

And when the prattling infant speaks
The name the mother taught,
And "father" from its soft lips breaks
With thrilling magic fraught;

Some tender word is the reply,
Enforced by eloquence of eye-
This is a father's love.

How blest his thoughts when on his knee The little scholar learns!

He fancies what the man shall be,

And sparks of mind discerns:

Those sparks set all his soul on flame,

Their cause there scarce is need to name

This is a father's love.

Behold the boy through childhood speed,
And the more dangerous ways,
Where many a pierced heart doth bleed,
Where sin rash youth betrays:
But there is still a guardian eye,
A father's vigilance is nigh-

Such is a father's love.

He bears his name in all his prayers,

If ever he doth pray ;

Nor rids him of paternal cares

In life's declining day.

A thousand friends have flitted past,

Their smiles decay, but his shall last—
This is a father's love.

God, who is LOVE, his love displays
Beneath a father's name,

Το

prove 'tis not a transient blaze,

But ever glowing flame:

And here earth's loves all fade away,

Like twinkling stars in heaven's bright dayThis is a father's love.

That father, taught by heavenly truth,
Who leads his child to pray,

"God, be my father, guide my youth,

Nor leave my steps to stray; That father shall be blest indeed, In having an immortal seed

This is a father's love.

A father's love !-Oh, yes, there is
A magic in the name;

To watch his child—to press-to kiss-
Is love-but not the same

As that which doth divinely glow,
When hearts in God are mingled so,
And long eternity will show,
Like this, a father's love.

"THAT YE SORROW NOT AS OTHERS WHICH HAVE NO HOPE."

Beber.

THOU art gone to the grave! but we will not deplore thee,

Though sorrows and darkness encompass the tomb : The Saviour has pass'd through its portal before thee, And the lamp of his love is thy guide through the gloom.

Thou art gone to the grave! we no longer behold thee, Nor tread the rough path of the world by thy side; But the wide arms of Mercy are spread to enfold thee, And sinners may hope, since the Sinless has died. Thou art gone to the grave! and, its mansion forsaking,

Perhaps thy weak spirit in fear linger'd long : But the sunshine of Paradise beam'd on thy waking, And the sound which thou heard'st was the seraphim's song.