42 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; Yet still my temples seemed to glow Years fled, and left me childhood's joy, Gay sports and pastimes dear; I rose a wild and wayward boy, Youth came-the props of virtue reeled; A marble touch my brow congealed- In foreign lands I travelled wide, Yet still that hand, so soft and cold, As when, amid my curls of gold, 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! And now, though time hath set His frosty seal upon my lot, And, if I e'er in heaven appear, A mother's hand, and gentle tear, Have led the wanderer there. SIGOURNEY. 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! 44 THE NEW BORN. I see thee 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 childhood 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 unto 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 thy head! HEMANS. THE CHRISTIAN INTERCEDING. FAIN, O my child, I'd have thee know And teach thee feeble strains below, O, when thy lisping tongue shall read I'll move thine ear, I'll point thine eye, Great God, the Spirit! hear the sigh Break, with thy vital beam benign, Bright o'er the human chaos shine, VOKE. 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 lie- 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 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, |