Grief, dear child, is ever keeping
Vigils o'er thy lowly bed.

But our weeping does not wake thee
From thy sound and stirless sleep ;—
And our wailings do not break thy
Long death-slumber calm and deep.
But the while our tears are flowing
Ever on thy peaceful grave,—
Tempests wild around are blowing,
Tossing us on sorrow's wave.

And the while grief's showers are falling
Fast upon thy quiet head,—

A low voice is ever calling,

"Ye are hasting to your dead.
DEATH will end your bitter mourning,
Still your quickly throbbing breast,
Hush your spirit's ceaseless yearning
Into deep, unbroken rest."

Rest thee then, thou faded blossom,
While the storms are fleeting by ;—
In thy mother earth's green bosom,
Close in sleep thy wearied eye.
Angels bright their way are winging,

Round thy grave to watch thee, love;—

O'er thee voices sweet are singing,—

Singing, "Rest thee, rest thee, love!"

Tributes.

"Weep not for her! Her memory is the shrine

Of pleasing thoughts, soft as the scent of flowers,
Calm as on windless eve the sun's decline,

Sweet as the song of birds among the flowers,
Rich as a rainbow with its hues of light,

Pure as the moonshine of an autumn night;
Weep not for her!"

"Rise, said the master, come unto the feast;
She heard the call and came with willing feet,
But thinking it not otherwise than meet
For such a bidding, to put on her best,
She is gone from us for a few short hours
Into her bridal-closet, there to wait
For the unfolding of the palace-gate,

That gives her entrance to the blissful bowers.
We have not seen her yet, though we have been
Full often to her chamber-door, and oft

Have listened underneath the postern green,

And laid fresh flowers and whispered short and soft.
But she hath made no answer, and the day
From the clear west, is fading fast away."

HENRY ALFORD.

In our season of sorrow, our hearts were often soothed by letters of condolence from absent friends. These letters were comforting, not only from their expressions of sympathy, but also on account of the pleasant tribute borne by many of them to the memory of our departed child. Extracts from a few of these letters may not be without interest to other bereaved mothers.

66

"My dearly beloved Children,

"The scene through which we have just passed has taken strong hold of my heart.

*

If I walked to my grove, I could see where the dear child went with me, or ran after me, with her pleasant face and affectionate feelings. And in the house, I could see where she sat, or played, and I could weep at the melancholy recollections. But then I considered that the blessed Jesus had taken the loved one to himself, and would henceforth leave us nothing in the way of care and solicitude and labor for her good. He will take the whole care of her, I said, of her precious soul, and of her precious body too. Not one of her faculties or interests,— not one of her susceptibilities to pleasure,—not

one particle of her sleeping bodily frame will be forgotten or neglected. The sweet child is well off,-well provided for,-free from disease and danger and sin. And she is not separated from her loving parents and friends. They will love her still, and she will love them, and love them with a purer, sweeter affection than she could feel in this cold world. And she will be growing in everything lovely, and if her parents are permitted by and by to go to the world above, how improved will they find her to be,-how beautiful, how happy!

"Your affectionate and sympathizing father."

"I can hardly express to you the feelings which the affliction so lately fallen upon you, in the departure of your dear, dear Caro, awakened within me. She had been so frequently the subject of my thoughts, that I seemed to possess in the memory of her affectionate and winning ways, the liveliest image left to me here of my own most bitterly lamented C. Most deeply have I sympathized with you in this trial. I well know the pangs it must have cost you to part with so engaging and precious a treasure.

And

I know too how difficult it is so far to arrest the flow of tears, as to search with speedy success for those divine resources, which lie near to the sorrowful and heart-broken. But it is ungrateful long to forget how meet it is that our most precious treasures should thus be cared for and secured.

"You, my dear friends, may well say, 'The bird has escaped out of the snare of the fowler ; the net is broken, and the bird is forever free.' Oh thou lovely and loving little angel,' well may we felicitate thee upon the unutterable joy of thy unfading crown!

brance.

"Yours affectionately.”

"I seem so plainly to see your darling with those earnest eyes so full of wistful tenderness. A thousand winning ways live in my rememI think she had a remarkable degree of affectionateness, intelligence, and sensibility. She had all the indications of true genius,genius which, I trust, has unfolded its wings in that world where nothing can obstruct its onward and upward progress.

"There was about her so much more of the