How sweet with thee to lift the latch,
Where Faith has kept her midnight watch,
Smiling on woe: with thee to kneel,
Where fix'd, as if one prayer could heal,
She listens, till her pale eye glow
With joy, wild health can never know,
And each calm feature, ere we read
Speaks, silently, thy glorious Creed.

Such have I seen: and while they pour'd
Their hearts in every contrite word,
How have I rather long'd to kneel
And ask of them sweet pardon's seal!
How blest the heavenly music brought
By thee to aid my faltering thought!
Peace ere we kneel, and when we cease
To pray, the farewell word is, "Peace."

I came again: the place was bright "With something of celestial light". A simple altar by the bed

-

For high Communion meetly spread,
Chalice, and plate, and snowy vest.-
We ate and drank: then calmly blest,

All mourners, one with dying breath,
We sate and talk'd of Jesus' death.

Once more I came: the silent room
Was .veil'd in sadly-soothing gloom,
And ready for her last abode
The pale form like a lily shew'd,
By virgin fingers duly spread,
And priz❜d for love of summer fled.
The light from those soft-smiling eyes
Had fleeted to its parent skies.

O soothe us, haunt us, night and day,
Ye gentle Spirits far away,

With whom we shar'd the cup of grace,
Then parted; ye to Christ's embrace,
We to the lonesome world again,
Yet mindful of th' unearthly strain
Practis'd with you at Eden's door,
To be sung on, where angels soar,
With blended voices evermore.

BURIAL OF THE DEAD.

And when the Lord saw her, He had compassion on her, and said unto her, Weep not. And He came and touched the bier (and they that bare him stood still) and said, Young man, I say unto thee, Arise. St. Luke vii. 14, 15.

WHO says, the wan autumnal sun

Beams with too faint a smile

To light up nature's face again,

And, though the year be on the wane,

With thoughts of spring the heart beguile ?

Waft him, thou soft September breeze,

And gently lay him down

Within some circling woodland wall,

Where bright leaves, reddening ere they fall,

Wave gaily o'er the waters brown.

And let some graceful arch be there
With wreathed mullions proud,

With burnish'd ivy for its screen,

And moss, that glows as fresh and green
As though beneath an April cloud.-

Who says the widow's heart must break,
The childless mother sink ?-

A kinder truer voice I hear,

Which even beside that mournful bier

Whence parents' eyes would hopeless shrink,

Bids weep no more-O heart bereft,

How strange, to thee, that sound!

A widow o'er her only son,

Feeling more bitterly alone

For friends that press officious round.

Yet is the voice of comfort heard,

For Christ hath touch'd the bier-
The bearers wait with wondering eye,

The swelling bosom dares not sigh,
But all is still, 'twixt hope and fear.

Even such an awful soothing calm
We sometimes see alight

A a

On Christian mourners, while they wait
In silence, by some church-yard gate,
Their summons to the holy rite.

And such the tones of love, which break
The stillness of that hour,

Quelling th' embitter'd spirit's strife-
"The Resurrection and the Life

"Am I believe, and die no more."

:

Unchang'd that voice—and though not yet The dead sit up and speak,

Answering its call; we gladlier rest

Our darlings on earth's quiet breast,

And our hearts feel they must not break.

Far better they should sleep awhile

Within the church's shade,

Nor wake, until new heaven, new earth,

Meet for their new immortal birth

For their abiding place be made,

Than wander back to life, and lean

On our frail love once more.