OW could they tell me she was dead,

With such a calm cold tone,
She whom I loved beyond my life,

My precious one, my own?
And yet they did not know that she,
The lost one, was so dear to me.

I heard it with a pale, calm cheek,

No tear was in my eye;
I could not bear that men should look

Upon my agony;
And so I coldly turned away,
Almost as carelessly as they.

I wonder if they've planted flowers

Above her early bed-
I wonder if the mourning tree

Sighs sadly o'er her head;
Or if kind friends are there to weep,
Above her calm and dreamless sleep.

And who were near to lay their hands

Upon her burning brow, And speak those words of hope and cheer

That would be mock'ry now? Or point her feeble faith to Thee, Thou who wast slain on Calvary?

I know not if they've planted flowers

Above her earthly bed;
I know not if the mourning tree

Sighs sadly o'er her head;
Or if kind friends are there to weep
Above her calm and dreamless sleep.

But in

my

heart there was a fount Of bitter, gushing woe; I sought to be alone, that tears

From my sad eyes should flow; But tears—the tide of lesser grief, Refused to lend their calm relief.

She was so dear to me—so good,

So beautiful and fair-
With her kind eyes and pleasant smile,

And her soft waving hair!
And she to die, nor I be there
To listen to her latest prayer!

I only know that I am sad,

So desolate and lone:
The world has such a weary look,

And such an altered tone!
And yet I feel how worse than vain,
The wish to call her back again.

a

I know that mine's a selfish grief,

For she is happy now; The stamp of immortality

Is on her angel brow. Yet still my heart keeps sighing on, And asking for the loved and gone.

Love Divine.

E, the Blessed and All-glorious Deity, whose presence is joy, and bliss, and Heaven, shall be the Life, the Light, the Praise of the New Jerusalem, and all its divine inhabit

ants ! Love shall reign triumphant in every heart; every pure and celestial desire shall be gratified to the full; every holy and devout affection shall find its adequate supply; and, one uninterrupted scene of happiness, serenity, and comfort, shall smile eternally, and eternally be found; where the harps of ten thousand times ten thousand shall ceaselessly hymn the Father of Mercies, and the Lamb who sitteth on the throne forever and

The Star of Love.

Y SAVIOUR, can I follow thee,

When all is dark before;
While midnight rests upon the sea,

How can I reach the shore ?

a

Oh, let thy Star of Love but shine,

Though with a feeble ray; 'Twill gild the edge of every wave,

And light my gloomy way.

Then gladly will I follow Thee,

Though hurricanes appear; Singing sweet carols o'er the sea,

A cheerful mariner.