Its towering summit lost beyond the thought
Of man or angel! Oh that I could climb
The wonderful ascent, with equal praise !
flow for ever ("if astonishment
Will give thee leave,") my praise for ever flow;
Praise ardent, cordial, constant, to high Heaven,
More fragrant than Arabia sacrificed,
And all her spicy mountains in a flame.
WITHIN a court, whose gloomy walls display'd Traces of old magnificence decay'd,
Whose low-brow'd batter'd archway seem'd to
At th' impoverish'd groups whose homes were near,
In one small room, reach'd by the public stair,
Poor and unfriended, lived an humble pair.
The house was old, erected when the best
Dwelt in the lanes, nor hurried to the west;
But now it shelters a promiscuous crowd,
Who throng its rooms, and lift their voices loud;
And chambers which were erewhile fashion's shrine
Are now the scenes where want and sorrow pine.—
Such was their home, endear'd by many a joy,
Nor less endear'd by frequent griefs' alloy;
For their two lovely babes, their hope and pride,
Both, within one short month, grew sick, and died;
And their two other babes, who seem'd design'd
To fill the blank in their sad parents' mind,
And who so like the dear departed seem'd,
That as the parents gazed they thought they
dream'd,-
These two together pined, and from the day
When the first sufferer breathed his soul away,
An equal space beheld his brother's death,
As when the former two resign'd their breath.
Two others yet remain'd, beauteous and young ;
And eagerly to them the mother clung,
Watch'd them with careful eye, and ever near
Gazed on with joy; but in her joy was fear ;-
She fear'd that, like their brothers, they might die,
And leave her all alone-the thought was agony.
Nor were her fears in vain; and as they lay
On their uneasy couch, oft did she pray,
That one, if only one, might still be left
To cheer a heart of many a joy bereft.
Ah! little thought she that the chosen one
Usurp❜d a place the Lord claim'd as his own,
Or by these blows of sore consuming pain
He knock'd, an entrance to her heart to gain.-
Nor was the Missionary absent then :
He came before, and now he came again.
He spoke of resignation; but his theme
Seem'd to her humbled mind an idle dream.
He spoke of heaven, to which her babes would
And all the glorious mansions of the sky;
But she was left on earth, nor could her grief
From such a hope find the desired relief.
He spoke enraptured of the wondrous morn,
When hearts from hearts, by death asunder torn,
Shall meet, nor part again; but still she clung,
Nor would she now be sever'd from her young.
He spoke of Jesus,-how he still retains
In heaven remembrance of his toils and pains,
And bends with pity to the tears and cries
That from this sinful world unheeded rise.
She sought no sympathy but what would save
Her suff'ring loved ones from the threatening grave.
He pray'd, she tried to pray, but scarcely join'd
In prayer for hearts to every ill resign'd ;
But all her soul gush'd forth, when he implored
That soon each child should be to health restored;
And wrung his hand when he arose to part,
And in her eye portray'd her bursting heart.
The crisis now is past; and both are gone, While the reft mother lives to mourn alone.
Yes, let her weep; these precious drops that flow, While they express, alleviate her wo.
The hour of agony is past; and calm,
Though sad, she may receive the sov'reign balm-
The balm of Gilead. Now that hope has fled,—
For hope expires for ever with the dead,
Her soul can look for other joys, to fill
The vacant heart, though bleeding, craving still,-
To find some one on whose responsive breast
It may confiding lean, and be at rest.
'Twas then she thought of counsels once unfelt:
The heart, once lock'd in woes, began to melt
For other woes which erst gave small concern,
To hope for joys before unknown, to learn
The wondrous tale of Jesus' love, and feel
That he alone the bleeding heart can heal,
Alone can satisfy its wide desire,
Alone its faculties with peace inspire.
She search'd, believed, rejoiced; no more her
Reposed on joys which speedily decay.
On Jesus now she laid her every care;
Her treasure was in heaven, her heart was there. Though oft, when musing on her bygone years, She felt her eyes suffused with nature's tears,
These were not joyless tears, nor did she mourn Like those whose joys can never more return. For her she knew that joys were yet in store; Her children were not lost, but gone before,Gone to that land where center'd all her joy, Where sorrow cannot dwell nor death destroy. Nor were they long before; her closing scene Was gentle as her later days had been,
No rapturous joy, but all was peaceful and serene.
FOR thou didst die for me, O Son of God!
By Thee the throbbing flesh of man was worn;
Thy naked feet the thorns of sorrow trod,
And tempests beat thy houseless head forlorn.
Thou, that wert wont to stand
Alone, on God's right hand,
Before the ages were, the Eternal, eldest-born.
Thy birthright in the world was pain and grief, Thy love's return ingratitude and hate;
The limbs Thou healedst brought Thee no relief,
The eyes Thou open'dst calmly view'd thy fate;
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