Casting their young honours down
At his feet, the harp and crown-
Who in heaven the diadem
Wears-the Babe of Bethlehem!
Sweet the hymn, whose stately march
Ever is around that arch,
Pealing of redemption !-Song,
Sweeter, louder, doth belong
To the cherub infant throng,
Whose sweet voices warble clear
Music, God delights to hear.
Come, my daughter, leave him now:
We, in humble prayer, will bow
At our heavenly Father's feet,
Asking that we all may meet
Where the infant of an hour
Is an angel; where each power
Of a feeble babe may clasp
Themes that angels cannot grasp.
Parting is to-day, in sorrow-
Joyful meeting is to-morrow-
With him, dearest, then to be
Heirs of immortality!"
AN INCIDENT OF CHILDHOOD.
How vividly bright at times appears
The long-lost scenes of our early years!
As though childhood's thought were embodied
And sought a home in the soul again.
One happy scene of infancy
I now remember vividly,
When I stood, on a lovely autumn eve,
With a young and merry company,
Around our mother's knee;
A sabbath eve, and our thoughts were led
To Him who, victor from the dead,
Arose to-day; then taught to weave
Our artless words in lisping prayer;
A rich, deep flow of love was there,
Intensely tender, no austerity
Taught the young heart hypocrisy ;
No bigot zeal infused its poison there,
To make the God of love a source of fear;
But gentle as that hour, and as her love,
Tender and yet profound-
"Father of all, who dwell'st in heaven above!" Such was the God our infant minds were
And, proud since then as thoughts and hopes have been,
Gladly I would exchange the proudest now, For the pure, simple feelings of that scene! Would that we could erase these furrow'd lines, Passions and sorrow's signs,
Deep graven on the brow,
And be again that which we once have been! Fearless then we weaved
Each childish thought,
Led by her cheering glance
To give our simple fancies utterance,
A speedy answer sought;
And confidently looked from her, at once,
Ready solution; whom we then believed Possess'd all knowledge, and in whom our trust
Was as implicit, as succeeding years
Have proved, through all the hateful jealous fears
That time corrodes us with, its source was just!
Well I remember some thoughts of gloom,
As I marked a rose's fading bloom;
"Mother, did I not hear you say
That no flowers would in Eden fade away
But the rose-buds, dear mother, I love to see,
Which you said, I remember, resembled me;
Would the lovely rose-buds, do you suppose,
Each spread its leaves to a full-blown rose?
For I'm sure I would not love to see
A garden where no pretty buds would be!"
Kindly she press'd my infant brow,
What was her answer I know not now,
But love surpasses oblivion's spell,
And that look of love I remember well!
And where is that happy circle now?
Has sorrow dimm'd each bright young brow?
Alas! the tears of some have mingled
O'er the grave of others Death has singled;
One sod now wraps the dust of three
Of that gay and joyous company;
The long grass sadly waves above,
But their ransom'd spirits the lesson prove,
That the God of heaven is a God of love!
TEACHING FROM THE STARS.
STARS, that on your wondrous way
Travel through the evening sky,
Is there nothing you can say
To such a little child as I?
Tell me, for I long to know,
Who has made you sparkle so?
Yes, methinks I hear you say,
"Child of mortal race, attend:
While we run our wondrous way,
Listen; we would be your friend;
Teaching you
that Name Divine,
By whose mighty word we shine.
Child, as truly as we roll
Through the dark and distant sky, You have an immortal soul,
Born to live when we shall die.
Suns and planets pass away:
Spirits never can decay.
"When some thousand years, at most,
All their little time have spent,
One by one our sparkling host
Shall forsake the firmament.
We shall from our glory fall:
You must live beyond us all.
"Yes, and God who bade us roll,
God, who hung us in the sky,
Stoops to watch an infant's soul
With a condescending eye;
And esteems it dearer far,
More in value than a star.
"Oh then, while your breath is given,
Let it rise in fervent prayer;
And beseech the God of heaven
To receive your spirit there,
Like a living star to blaze,
Ever to your Saviour's praise."
HE comes he comes-the Frost Spirit comes!
You may trace his footsteps now,
On the naked woods and the blasted fields,
And the brown hill's wither'd brow.
He has smitten the leaves of the grey old trees,
Where their pleasant green came forth,
And the winds, which follow wherever he goes,
Have shaken them down to earth.
He comes-he comes-the Frost Spirit comes,
From the frozen Labrador:
From the icy bridge or the northern seas,
Which the white bear wanders o'er:
Where the fisherman's sail is stiff with ice,
And the luckless forms below,
In the sunless cold of the atmosphere,
Into marble statues grow!
He comes he comes-the Frost Spirit comes!
And the quiet lake shall feel
The torpid touch of his glazing breath,
And ring to the skater's heel;
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