THE THREE SONS. 203 Should he grow up to riper years, God grant his heart may prove As sweet a home for heavenly grace as now for earthly love! And if, beside his grave, the tears our aching eyes must dim, God comfort us for all the love which we shall lose in him! I have a son, a third sweet son! his age I cannot tell, For they reckon not by years and months, where he is gone to dwell. To us, for fourteen anxious months, his infant smiles were given, And then he bade farewell to earth, and went to live in heaven. I cannot tell what form he has, what looks he weareth now, Nor guess how bright a glory crowns his shining seraph brow; The thoughts that fill his sinless soul, the bliss which he doth feel, Are numbered with the secret things which God will not reveal; But I know (for God hath told me this) that he is now at rest, Where other blessèd infants be, on their Saviour's loving I know his spirit feels no more this weary load of flesh, fresh. ७ 204 THE THREE SONS. I know the angels fold him close, beneath their glittering wings, And soothe him with a song that breathes of Heaven's divinest things. I know that we shall meet our babe (his mother dear and I), Where God for aye shall wipe away all tears from every eye. Whate'er befalls his brethren twain, his bliss can never cease; Their lot may here be grief and fear, but his is certain peace. It may be that the tempter's wiles their souls from bliss may sever, But, if our own poor faith fail not, he must be ours for ever. When we think of what our darling is, and what we still must be ; When we muse on that world's perfect bliss, and this world's misery; When we groan beneath this load of sin, and feel this grief and pain, Oh! we'd rather lose our other two than have him here again. = J. MOULTRIE. 206 ON THE MASSACRE OF GLENCOE. May thine angel-guards defend us, HEBER. $ On the Massacre of Glencoe. H! tell me, harper, wherefore flow Where none may list their melody ! Screams chorus to thy minstrelsy ?" "No, not to these, for they have rest; Abode of lone security. But those for whom I pour the lay, Could screen from treacherous cruelty. ON THE MASSACRE OF GLENCOE. 207 "Their flags were furled, and mute their drum, To tend her kindly housewifery. Meed for his hospitality! The friendly heart which warmed that hand, "Then woman's shriek was heard in vain, Respite from ruthless butchery. Far more than Southron clemency. Their grey-haired master's misery. |