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POWER OF MATERNAL PIETY.
I plucked a fair white rose, and stole
To lay it by her side, And thought strange sleep enchained her soul,
For no fond voice replied.
That eve I knelt me down in woe,
And said a lonely prayer ;
As if that hand were there.
Years fled, and left me childhood's joy,
Gay sports and pastimes dear; I rose a wild and wayward boy,
Who scorned the curb of fear.
Youth came--the props of virtue reeled ;
But oft, at day's decline,
Blessed mother, was it thine ?
In foreign lands I travelled wide,
My pulse was bounding high,
And pleasure lured my eye;
Yet still that hand, so soft and cold,
Maintained its mystic sway,
With gentle force it lay.
THE NEW BORN.
And, with it, breathed a voice of care,
As from the lowly sod, “My son—my only one-beware!
Nor sin against thy God.”
That hallowed touch was ne'er forgot I
And now, though time hath set His frosty seal upon my lot,
These temples feel it yet.
And, if I e'er in heaven appear,
A mother's holy prayer,
Have led the wanderer there.
THE NEW BORN.
TO HER BROTHER'S CHILD.
A BLESSING on thy head, thou child of many hopes
and fears! A rainbow-welcome thine hath been, of mingled
smiles and tears. Thy father greets thee unto life, with a full and
chastened heart, For a solemn gift from God thou com’st, all
precious as thou art !
I see thec not asleep, fair boy, upon thy mother's
breast, Yet well I know how guarded there shall be thy
rosy rest : And how her soul with love, and prayer, and
gladness, will o'erflow, While bending o'er thy soft-sealed eyes, thou
dear one, well I know.
A blessing on thy gentle head! and bless'd thou
art in truth, For a home where God is felt, awaits thy child
hood and thy youth; Around thee pure and holy thoughts shall dwell
as light and air, And steal unto thine heart, and wake the germs
now folded there.
Smile on thy mother! while she feels that un
to thee is given, In that young day-spring glance, the pledge of a
soul to rear for heaven! Smile! and sweet peace be. o'er thy sleep, joy
o'er thy wakening shed ! Blessings and blessings ever more, fair boy ! upon
THE CHRISTIAN INTERCEDING.
Fain, O my child, I'd have thee know
The God whom angels love ;
Akin to theirs above.
0, when thy lisping tongue shall read
Of truths divinely sweet,
Sit down at Jesus' feet.
I'll move thine ear, I'll point thine eye,
But, ah! the inward part-
That trembles through my heart.
Break, with thy vital beam benign,
O'er all the mental wild !
And sanctify my child.
CHANTREY'S SLEEPING CHILDREN.
Look at those sleeping children /-softly tread, Lest thou do mar their dream; and come not
nigh Till their fond mother, with a kiss shall cry,“ 'Tis morn, awake! awake !”—Ah! they are
dead! Yet, folded in each others arms, they lieSo still—oh, look! so still and smilingly; So breathing and so beautiful they seem, As if to die in youth were but to dream Of spring and flowers !-of flowers ? yet nearer
stand; Here is a lily in one little hand, Broken, but not faded yet, As if its cup with tears was wet ! So sleeps that child,—not faded, tho' in death; And seeming still to hear her sister's breath, As when she first did lay her head to rest, Gently on that sister's breast, And kiss'd her, ere she fell asleep! Th’ Archangel's trump alone shall wake that
slumber deep. O’er these sweet children, that so sculptured rest, A sister's head upon a sister's breast,