THE LITTLE BOY'S BURIAL.

Two dark-eyed maids, at shut of day,
Sat where a river rolled away,

With calm, sad brows, and raven hair,
And one was pale, and both were fair.

Bring flowers, they sang, bring flowers unblown,
Bring forest blooms of name unknown;
Bring budding sprays from wood and wild,
To strew the bier of Love, the child.

Close softly, fondly, while ye weep,
His eyes, that death may seem like sleep,
And fold his hands in sign of rest,
His waxen hands, across his breast.

And make his grave where violets hide,
Where star-flowers strew the rivulet's side,
And blue-birds in the misty spring
Of cloudless skies and summer sing.

Place near him, as ye lay him low,
His idle shafts, his loosened bow,
The silken fillet that around

His waggish eyes in sport he wound.

But we shall mourn him long, and miss

His ready smile, his ready kiss,

The patter of his little feet,

Sweet frowns and stammered phrases sweet;

And graver looks, serene and high,
A light of heaven in that young eye,

All these shall haunt us till the heart
Shall ache and ache- and tears will start.

The bow, the band shall fall to dust,
The shining arrows waste with rust,
And all of Love that earth can claim,
Be but a memory and a name.

Not thus his nobler part shall dwell,
A prisoner in this narrow cell;
But he whom now we hide from men,
In the dark ground, shall live again.

Shall break these clods, a form of light,
With nobler mien, and purer sight,
And in the eternal glory stand,

Highest and nearest God's right hand.

BRYANT.

AFFLICTION is the good man's shining scene; Prosperity conceals his brightest ray,

As night to stars, nor lustre gives to man.

CAN I WISH HIM BACK AGAIN?

COULD I wish that this young inhabitant of heaven should be degraded to earth again? Or Iwould it thank me for that wish? Would it say that it was the part of a wise parent, to call it down from a sphere of such exalted services and pleasures, to our low life here upon earth? Let me rather be thankful for the pleasing hope, that though God loves my child too well to permit it to return to me, he will, ere long, bring me to it. And then that endeared paternal

affection, which would have been a cord to tie me to earth, and have added new pangs to my removal from it, will be as a golden chain to draw me upwards, and add one further charm and joy even to paradise itself.

DODDRIDGE.

THE FIRST TENANT.

AND now one of our family is gone to take possession of the sepulchre in all our names. Ere long I shall lie down with my child. It is a warning of Providence, that these concluding days of my life may be more regular, more spiritual, more useful, than the former.

DEAD LITTLE ONES.

"The harp of heaven

Had lacked its least, but not its meanest string,
Had children not been taught to play upon it."

BEREAVED mother! take comfort in the thought that your little ones are safe in the heavenly home. A father once said, “I have had six children; and I bless God that they are all either with Christ, or in Christ, and my mind is now at rest concerning them. My desire was that they should have served Christ on earth; but if God will choose to have them rather serve him in heaven, I have nothing to object to it.”

Mother! listen! Two dear children were one day seen very ill in the same room; the oldest of the two was heard frequently attempting to teach the younger one to pronounce the word "Hallelujah!" but without success; the dear little one died before he could repeat it. When his brother was told of his death, he was silent for a moment, and then looking up at his mother, said, "Johnny can say 'Hallelujah' now, mother!" In a few hours the two little brothers were united in heaven, singing “Hallelujah!" together. Mothers! inany of your

little ones could not sing the praises of their Redeemer, while resting in your arms, but they have been taught the music of the upper temple now, and they sing among the celestial choristers!

DEATH'S GENTLEST STROKE.

THE Soul of the cherub child, that dies on its mother's breast, wings its way to heaven, unconscious of the joys it might share here, as well as of the many, many miseries of which it might be partaker. This can hardly be called death. It is but the calm, soft ebbing of the gentle tide of life, to flow no more in the troubled ocean of existence; it is but the removal of a fair creature, -"too pure for earthly stay," to make one of that bright band of cherubim which encompasses in glory and in joy the throne of the living God.

THEY only truly mourn the dead, who endeavor so to live as to insure a reunion in heaven.