They weep for her, they who are subject still
To change, to error, to the parting pain;
They linger where she sleepeth calm, nor will
Know earthly grief, or sigh, or weep again.

Youth is the time to die, before the heart
Has lost the radiance of its heavenly birth,

Or e'er it turns to take inglorious part

With those whose darksome ways blight this fair earth.

Then plant the twining myrtle o'er their tomb,

And write them "Blessed!" who depart in Youth, Ere yet the Tempter's breath despoiled their bloom, Or touched their vestal innocence and truth.

ROSALIE BELL.

THE FREED SPIRIT FAITH IN GOD.

103

The Freed Spirit: Faith in God.

ANONYMOUS.

The spirit freed from earthly chains, enraptured soars away,
To share with kindred ransomed souls, the joys of endless day.

YET though our spirits here faint in sorrow, though grief and danger overcloud our sky, and storms of trouble burst above our heads, though faltering footsteps linger on the way, and the crushed spirit yearns for rest and peace, still do we fear to die. Why is it thus? Why do we shrink when death would woo us home, and whispers gently to the fainting heart, of peace and joy above?

Oh for a firm, unfaltering faith,

To calm each rising fear

To chase away the gloom of death,
And check the gathering tear;

A faith that trusts God's power to save,
And feels each sin forgiven―

That calmly looks beyond the grave
To scenes of love in Heaven!

That gilds life's fleeting summer clouds
With beams of radiant light,
And whispers to the doubting soul,
"Fear not—God's ways are right !"
Oh grant me such a faith as this,
With earnest heavenly power
To point to realms of endless bliss,
And cheer the dying hour.

THEN, when from friends who greet me now

I'm called at length to part,

When death dews gather on my brow,

And chill my pulseless heart,

When earthly scenes are fading fast

With Faith's bright mantle o'er me cast,

I shall not fear to die.

THE HAPPINESS OF HEAVEN.

The Happiness of Heaven.

CAROLINE BOWLES.

Он, happy, happy country! where
There entereth not a sin,

And death, who keeps its portals fair,
May never once come in.

No grief can change their day to night,
The darkness of that land is light;
Sorrow and sighing God has sent
Far thence, to endless banishment.
And never more may one dark tear
Bedim their burning skies;
For every one they shed while here
In fearful agonies,

Glitters a bright and dazzling gem
In their immortal diadem.

105

Death of a Maiden.

HON. MRS. NORTON.

Low she lies, who blest our eyes
Through many a sunny day;
She may not smile, she will not rise-
The life hath passed away!

Yet there is a world of light beyond,

Where we neither die nor sleep

She is there, of whom our souls were fond—
Then wherefore do we weep?

The heart is cold, whose thoughts were told
In each glance of her glad bright eye;
And she lies pale, who was so bright,

She scarce seemed made to die.

Yet we know that her soul is happy now,

Where the saints their calm watch keep; That angels are crowning that fair young brow, Then wherefore do we weep?