THE TIGER LILY.

IMPERIAL beauty! fair, unrivalled one!

What flower of earth has honor high as thine

To find its name on His unsullied lips,

Whose eye was light from heaven?

My hallowed flower! The sweetest, purest thoughts

Shall cluster round thee, as thy crimson'd bells

On the green, polished stalk, that puts them forth!

I will consider thee, and melt my cares

In the bland accents of His soothing voice,
Who, from the hill of Palestine, looked round

For a fair specimen of skill divine;
And, pointing out the LILY OF THE FIELD
Declared, the wisest of all Israel's kings,
In his full glory, not arrayed like thee!

THE

CHRISTIAN FAMILY MAGAZINE.

AND

ANNUAL.

THE STRICKEN WIDOW.

DEATH'S EMPIRE COMPLETE.

BY THE EDITOR.

THE clock of the metropolis struck twelve, in slow and eloquent tones, and a responsive knell pealed from the domes of the city. It was dead of night, when deep slumber had fallen upon the inhabitants, and naught was heard but the shrill voice of the watchman, "Twelve o'clock! Twelve o'clock! AND ALL IS WELL!"

This sound rung like heavy changes in my ear, for but a few moments before, death had entered the abode and hurried away the spirit of a lovely youth in the prime of life.

"All is well!" the sound still rung in my ears like a knell of departed glory. Yes, in Heaven, amidst the company of the redeemed who surround the throne of the Eternal, all is well; through all the empire of Providence, in which not a sparrow falls to the ground without our heavenly Father's notice, all is well; and even to the view of those who keep their vigils over the temporal interests of the city, "ALL IS WELL."

This was an hour of triple darkness to Mrs. Cecil, the bereaved and stricken widow, who had just taken an affectionate FAREWELL of her last child and only son; to whom she had looked as her solace and support in her declining years.

While I closed the eyes of the young man, and felt the cold chill, the frost of death, run through my veins, the afflicted