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The meaning of this seems to be, that, as the angels and men are constituted in wonderful order, the first of those mighty circles whose joy and delight is in obeisance, are the Beings who cast their crowns before the Throne, and fall down in adoration ; while our little ones' joyous greetings to their spiritual pastors and masters, may be their first training for their eternal ecstasy of worship.
(To be continued.)
Thy wrath she never can incur,
She had no sins to mark,
My dove is in the ark.
A while upon my breast;
And then she went to rest.
her little love about, In dumb but pretty show; My wandered lamb is not shut out
From Love's true home, I know.
Of trouble for a while,
Wearing a wondrous smile.
Made bright the little clay, As if it saw with sleeping eyes
Wbat it might never say.
The aid of all that mourn,
To Thee for help we turn.
Also of them that die;
No dearer gift have I.
Thou askest now again;
Forgive these sobs of pain.
Her voice so glad and clear;
And yet I did not fear.
Upon the heavenly gate;
Thou didst not make her wait.
In passing to eternal life
My little child looked in,
That she God's peace might win.
Of the first Adam write me down,
In the Lord's house,' said she,
The Second bought for me.'
Her name was written with a smile,
We thought she meant to stay;
And then she went away.
The second time her name was writ
Was on her coffin-lid,
The loveliness all hid.
We laid this faded rose of ours
For ever out of sight, And heaped deep earth, and grass, and flowers,
And sobbed, Good night, Good night.
The lambs of God, a snowy flock,
How peacefully they lie Beneath the shadow of that Rock
Which fronts the western sky.
These little ones were marked for God,
His tithing-lambs are they,
And so they could not stay.
As one by one, in single file,
From out the fold they passed,
And still they gather fast.
They miss the burden of the day,
The weary march they miss ; The Cross is on them, just to say
They are not ours, but His.
We yield Thee hearty thanks, O Thou
Who art a Father too,
Within Thy temple new.
Thou hast received them for Thine own,
Within Thy Church on high ; They do not hear us sob and moan
Because they had to die.
They died with Christ, the holy Son,
At once to death and sin;
No victory to win.
They in the haven safely ride,
While we are out at sea;
Lest they should weep as we.
We in the storm, with pallid lips,
Toil sorely, heart and limb; As for those other little ships,'
We know they are with Him.'
Dear mothers, by our little graves
Let us kneel down and pray;
Has borne our babes away.
All in the morning watch He came,
We saw Him drawing near ; His presence struck through soul and frame
A strange foreboding fear. Yet even in that cold dark hour,
And through that nameless chill, He held us with His soothing power,
And whispered, Peace, be still.
Beside that glory of repose
We had no will to weep;
Would dare to break that sleep.