The Upper Choir.

CAROLINE MAY.

O LIFE, how chequer'd and how shady,
Are e'en thy paths of purest joy!
I saw a pale and low-voiced lady

Clad in deep mourning for her boy.
Her grief was quiet, deep and tearless,
But her white cheek and whisper fain
Told her heart's void, so blank and cheerless,
Better than tears or loud complaint.

And "ah," she said, "he was so beautiful,
With his clear eyes and snowy brow;
So frank and loving, and so dutiful,

His will to mine would ever bow
With glad obedience, quick and ready;
Raising his bright and searching glance,
He read, with insight sure and steady,
My wishes in my countenance.

THE UPPER CHOIR.

So fond of music and of singing-
Alone, with no one by to hear
His childish voice was ever ringing

With some sweet hymn of pleasant cheer.
He loved his minister most truly,
And he, too, dearly loved my boy,
Who every morn and evening duly,
Came up to church with reverend joy.
His place was right before the altar,
Among a glad young company,
Whose well-trained voices did not falter
In chanted psalm or melody.

I missed him there one Sabbath morning-
I could not see that happy face,

(Whose beauty was like Spring's fair dawning) Beaming in its accustomed place:

And through the service and the singing
I wondered where my boy could be;
My every thought, alas! seemed clinging
To him with wild idolatry.

And oh! I sighed, if Death should ever

Snatch from my heart that precious one: How could I live? with what endeavor

Bear up

beneath life's darkened sun?

Just then he bounded past before me

With glowing cheeks, and smile so bright,

And eyes whose gladness kindled o'er me

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An answering flame of pure delight.
"Up by the organ I've been sitting,
It was our minister's desire;
For, mother dear, he says I'm fitting
To sing among the upper choir."
"The upper choir!" I echoed faintly,
Thrilled with a sudden thrust of pain,
While on his brow so fair and saintly,
I read another meaning plain :
The upper choir! It seemed a warning,

A knell that rang with solemn dread;
And it was true,—for from that morning

But two weeks passed, and he was dead.

And now, although a mother only
Could fathom all the hidden deeps
That lie within my bosom lonely,

Where brooding memory never sleeps,
Yet still the pang that thrills within me
When missing his beloved voice,

Is hushed and soothed by hopes that win me, E'en in my sorrow, to rejoice.

And those brief words of eager pleasure

My darling spoke that Sabbath morn,

Are running over with full measure
Of comfort to my heart forlorn.

THE UPPER CHOIR.

Christ, the dear Minister, who standeth
In His great majesty of love,

At God's right hand, and aye commandeth
The church below and church above:
Christ loved my child, and saw him fitted
For worship holier and higher-
Christ cailed nim, and he gladly quitted

The lower for the Upper Choir.

25

The Lost Jewel

ANONYMOUS.

JESUS to my earthly keeping
Once a jewel kindly gave,
But my joy was turned to weeping,
For I lost it in the grave.

Mourning for my vanished treasure, Then I heard the Saviour say— "Cease to sorrow, for my pleasure I have borne thy gem away.

"Is thy spirit filled with anguish?
Is thine eye with weeping dim?
Cease, oh Mother! thus to languish,
Cease, for I had need of him.