ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT. 'Thou weepest, childless mother! Ay, weep!-'twill ease thine heart :— He was thy first born son, Thy first, thine only one; 'Tis hard from him to part! "Tis hard to lay thy darling The empty crib to see, The silent nursery, Once gladsome with his mirth; To meet again, in slumber, His small mouth's rosy kiss- To feel (half conscious why) That thou art desolate! And then to lie and weep, Of all his winning ways— His joy at sight of thee, And all his little wiles! Oh these are recollections Round mothers' hearts that cling That mingle with the tears And smiles of after years, With oft awakening. But thou wilt then, fond mother! E'en on this gloomy track. Thou'lt say " My first-born blessing, It almost broke my heart When thou wert forced to go! And, yet for thee, I know "Twas better to depart. "God took thee in his mercy A lamb, untasked, untried; He fought the fight for theeHe won the victory And thou art sanctified! "I look around, and see The evil ways of men ; And, oh! beloved child! To thy departure then. "The little arms that clasped me, I lulled thee on my breast? “Now, like a dew-drop shrined Thou'rt safe in heaven, my dove! "And when the hour arrives From flesh that sets me free, Thy spirit may await The first at heaven's gate, To meet and welcome me." CAROLINE BOWLES. ย "LOVE NEVER FAILETH." St. Paul. They sin who tell us LOVE can die, All others are but vanity. In heaven ambition cannot dwell, Its holy flame for ever burneth, From heaven it came, to heaven returneth; But the harvest time of love is there. |