He leads the way to that cold white couch,
And bends o'er the senseless form;
Can his be less than a heavenly touch?
The maiden's hand is warm!

And the fresh blood comes with roseate hue,
While Death's dark terrors fly;
Her form is raised, and her step is true,
And life beams bright in her eye.

Mrs Gilman.

THE BIRDS OF THE AIR.

"Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten before God?"- Luke xii. 6.

TRIBES of the air! whose favor'd race
May wander through the realms of space,
Free guests of earth and sky;
In form, in plumage, and in song,
What gifts of nature mark your throng
With bright variety!

Nor differ less your forms, your flight,
Your dwellings hid from hostile sight,

And the wild haunts ye love;
Birds of the gentle beak! how dear
Your wood note, to the wanderer's ear,
In shadowy vale or grove!

Far other scenes, remote, sublime,
Where swain or hunter may not climb,
The mountain-eagle seeks;
Alone he reigns, a monarch there,
Scarce will the chamois' footstep dare
Ascend his Alpine peaks.

Others there are, that make their home
Where the white billows roar and foam,

Around th' o'erhanging rock; Fearless they skim the angry wave, Or, sheltered in their sea-beat cave, The tempest's fury mock.

Where Afric's burning realm expands,
The ostrich haunts the desert sands,
Parched by the blaze of day;
The swan, where northern rivers glide
Through the tall reeds that fringe their tide,
Floats graceful on her way.

The condor, where the Andes tower, Spreads his broad wing of pride and power, And many a storm defies;

Bright in the orient realms of morn,
All beauty's richest hues adorn

The Bird of Paradise.

Some, amidst India's groves of palın,
And spicy forests breathing balm,

Weave soft their pendent nest;
Some, deep in western wilds, display
Their fairy form and plumage gay,

In rainbow colors drest.

Others no varied song may pour,
May boast no eagle plume to soar,
No tints of light may wear;
Yet know, our Heavenly Father guides
The least of these, and well provides
For each, with tenderest care.

Shall He not then thy guardian be?
Will not his aid extend to thee?

Oh! safely mayst thou rest!
Trust in his love, and e'en should pain,
Should sorrow tempt thee to complain,
Know, what he wills is best!

Mrs Hemans.

THE WOMAN ANOINTING THE FEET OF JESUS.

"And behold, a woman in the city, which was a sinner, when she knew that Jesus sat at meat in the Pharisee's house, brought an alabaster box of ointment, and stood at his feet behind him, weeping, and began to wash his feet with tears; and did wipe them with the hairs of her head, and kissed his feet, and anointed them with the ointment." -Luke vii. 37, 38.

THOU that with pallid cheek,
And eyes in sadness meek,

And faded locks that humbly swept the ground,
From their long wanderings won,
Before the all-healing Son,

Didst bow thee to the earth, oh, lost and found!

When thou wouldst bathe his feet,
With odors richly sweet,

And many a shower of woman's burning tear,
And dry them with that hair,

Brought low the dust to wear

From the crowded beauty of its festal year.

Did he reject thee then,

While the sharp scorn of men

On thy once bright and stately head was cast? No, from the Saviour's mien,

A solemn light serene,

Bore to thy soul the peace of God at last.

For thee, their smiles no more
Familiar faces wore,

Voices, once kind, had learn'd the stranger's tone,
Who raised thee up and bound
Thy silent spirit's wound?

He, from all guilt the stainless, He alone!

But which, oh, erring child!
From home so long beguiled,

Which of thine offerings won those words of
Heaven,

That o'er the bruised reed,
Condemn'd of earth to bleed,

In music pass'd, "Thy sins are all forgiven?"

Was it that perfume fraught

With balm and incense, brought

From the sweet woods of Araby the blest?
Or that fast flowing rain

Of tears, which not in vain

To Him who scorn'd not tears, thy woes confess'd?

No, not by these restored

Unto thy Father's board,

'Thy peace, that kindled joy in Heaven,was made; But costlier in his eyes,

By that blest sacrifice,

Thy heart, thy full deep heart, before Him laid.

Mrs Hemans.