But looking upward for the dear one's sake,
As one by one each loved face disappears,
We thank Thee, God, ours are the immortal years!

MY MOTHER.

"But, oh! does the glorified spirit know
The desolate blank in her home below?"

Do her thoughts return to her home on earth,
Where once was happiness, joy and mirth,
To the mourners who sit round the vacant hearth?
Oh, yes! the glorified spirit must know
The desolate blank in her home below.

Do her thoughts come back in the quiet eve,
When each lonely spirit must sit and grieve
And in silence its sorrowful fancies weave?
Ah! yes-the glorified spirit must know
The desolate blank in its home below.

Does she look as we to the coming years,

Seen through the dim, dark veil of tears,
To the unshared joys and the unsoothed fears?
Ah! no-the glorified spirit must feel

That the wounds of life are but given to heal.

Does she look as we to the flight of time,

Of the years that must pass ere we reach that clime

That knows no darkness, no chilling rime?
Ah, no-for the trials of earth must seem
To heaven's happy souls but a passing dream.

Does she look, as some, on the Angel of Death,
As a stern, grim messenger loosing the breath?
Ah! no-as an Angel that gently saith,

"Come away from the world, its anguish and woe, New life with the loved ones forever to know!"

SUNG AT THE OPENING OF THE NORMAL
SCHOOL, SALEM.

We welcome, we welcome this day,

Th' occasion we celebrate here!
Send down, O, our Father! we pray,

Thy blessing, and draw to us near;

For what were our efforts, O Father! if Thou
Didst not in approval thy blessing bestow?

This Temple to Study we've reared,

We dedicate, Father, to Thee!

May holiness dwell in its walls—

May progress its watchword e'er be!

May Science each day as she strives to impart
To the mind her rich stores, forget not the heart.

Here Woman her mission may find

Her influence hence shall extend,

Till precepts received by the few,

To thousands instruction shall lend!

And the seed that in Faith so humbly is sown,
Shall whiten the hills with the full harvest grown!

The World's education goes on—

Though Crime with its footsteps keeps pace, Who doubts that the Future shall see

True Knowledge the FIRST in the race?

On the dark clouds of vice, Hope's bow Now is bright! And His voice shall rule, who said, "Let there be

LIGHT."

I WONDER IF SOME EVER THINK THEY MUST
DIE!

I wonder if some ever think they must die!
That morning shall come with its smile on the earth
But come not for them-while above the blue sky
Shall calmly bend down as erst at their birth.

Ere think that when Spring glides to scatter her flowers,
Some blossoms for them with kind hand she will save,
Those beautiful births of the sun and the showers,
To tell of new life by the newly made grave.

That the street shall resound with its hurry and din,
That life shall go on with its flutter and glare,
While a few saddened faces shall gather within-
A few sobbing voices shall vainly ask, "where?"

THE PROMISES.

Hunger no more! O starving ones of earth

Who know not where to find your daily bread, Whose life-long struggle is a strife to live,—

Know, by His hand all hungry ones are fed ! He will not thrust you empty from His door; Receive the Bread of Life nor hunger more!

Thirst never more! O sinful ones of earth,
Who by forbidden waters learned to stray,
Who from the innocence that guards each birth
Wandered through guilty pleasures far away;
Redeemed, forgiven, come walk by cooling streams,
In living waters lose your feverish dreams!

Faint never more ! O weary ones of earth,

With heavy crosses painful to be borne;
There's One whose eye perceives each spirit's worth,
Pities each soul by daily trials worn,—

His hand shall loose at last the weary load,
And lead each Pilgrim to His blest abode !

THE BETTER LAND.

Land of my early dreams,

Travelled how oft in thought!

By pastures green and cooling streams
In cool refreshment brought.

When earth looks dark and drear,
And glad hopes fade away,
How bright the cheering rays appear
That glance from endless day.

"There endless spring abides
And never fading flowers ;"
Why should we fondly, closely cling
To this cold world of ours?

Here Death doth set his seal-
Here dwell change and decay,—

The Soul within itself can feel
Wings that would soar away.

Oft do they rise above

This earth and things around,
Trying their flight,—but seek again
The low nest on the ground.

Yet they at last shall soar

Up, never to return!

For things beyond, oh ! nevermore
With quenchless thirst to yearn!

THE DYING YEAR.

O Dying Year! why should man fear to die,

When with such cheering smile Thou dost depart? Around thy finished works all beauteous lie,