THE LIGHT OF HOME. BY MRS. HALE. My boy, thou wilt dream the world is fair, And thou must go; but never, when there, Though pleasure may smile with a ray more bright, Like the meteor's flash, 'twill deepen the night, But the hearth of home has a constant flame, And pure as vestal fire: "Twill burn, 'twill burn, for ever the same, For nature feeds the pyre. The sea of ambition is tempest tost, And thy hopes may vanish like foam; But when sails are shivered and rudder lost, And there, like a star through the midnight cloud, For never, till shining on thy shroud, The sun of fame, 'twill gild the name; And fashion's smiles, that rich ones claim, And how cold and dim those beams must be, Should life's wretched wanderer come! But, my boy, when the world is dark to thee, Then turn to the light of home. REMEMBER ME. BY EDWARD EVERETT. YES, dear one, to the envied train To think of him that's far away? But wilt thou not sometimes the while, But not in Fashion's brilliant hall, O, think not, think not of me there But when the thoughtless crowd is gone, And hushed the voice of senseless glee, And all is silent, still, and lone, And thou art sad, remember me. Remember me-but, loveliest, ne'er, Remember me, I pray-but not In Flora's gay and blooming hour, When every brake hath found its note, And sunshine smiles in every flower; But when the falling leaf is sere, And withers sadly from the tree, And o'er the ruins of the year Cold autumn weeps, remember me. Remember me-but choose not, dear, Remember me-but not to join If haply some thy friends should praise; They know us not-but shouldst thou meet My name, and then remember me. Remember me-not, I entreat, In scenes of festal week-day joy, For then it were not kind or meet, Thy thought thy pleasure should alloy; But on the sacred, solemn day, And, dearest, on thy bended knee, When thou for those thou lovest dost pray, Sweet spirit, then remember me. Remember me-but not as I On thee forever, ever dwell, With anxious heart and drooping eye, And doubts 'twould grieve thee should I tell; But in thy calm, unclouded heart, Where dark and gloomy visions flee, Oh there, my sister, be my part, And kindly there remember me. THE SPIRIT'S SONG OF CONSOLATION. BY F. W. P. GREENWOOD. DEAR parents, grieve no more for me; My parents, grieve no more; Believe that I am happier far Than even with you before. I've left a world where wo and sin And gained a world where I shall rest Our Father bade me come to him, And he has made his heavenly house I heard the voice you could not hear, I saw, too, what you could not see, My spirit to their blessed abode, To live forever there. |