Both are recipients of JESUS' love.

Then, while we sojourn in this vale of tears,

Well may we bear the Cross; nor hopeless mourn, If, past Death's vale, the blissful Crown be ours.

Memory, with all her busy train, awakes, And calls in sad review the glowing scenes Of years long past!-years, how diversified With joy and grief, pain-pleasure-weal, and woe! Ye blissful ages, run!-relieve my sightPoint through the vista of past rolling years,

And let me catch, of Joy and Misery

The shadowy forms!

All—all, alas! are fled!

In youth, nor want I knew:-in infancy,

In childhood, parents' care-fraternal love-
Each wish anticipated, and each want

By kindly providence prevented.

All

My Mother and my three loved Sisters-all,
Beneath the grasp of Death's prime minister,
A slow consumption, withered! And the rest,
That of my hapless Family remained,-

A Father, more than loved, revered――adored-
A Brother, rendered dear by every grace
That can exalt our nature, soon were called
To tread the path to Death's oblivious bourn!
-Oblivious, did I say? Faith holds a lamp

Which lights the sombre gloom, and darts a ray
To Calvary's height; and thence it radiates
The all-pervasive beams shot from the Cross--
The sun of Righteousness! Here, then, is Light,
Whose rays the midnight darkness of the tomb
Can ne'er obstruct.

Oh, lift the note of praise
To our salvation's Captain--Lamb of God,
Immaculate and pure, the Paschal Lamb-
IMMANUEL-God with us!

Yet, human note

How vain-how feeble-how inadequate

To render equal praise! "Thine be the hymn
That rolls its sacred tide along the realms

Of upper day !"

And shall we join that lay—

That heavenly strain-and hymn the God TRIUNE!

Roll on, ye wheels of time! I would not stay

I would not linger in this nether sphere.

-Health ne'er was mine:-In vain I've wooed the Dame;

And life, without her, scarce deserves the name.

Then what, of earth, remains for me to prize?

Aloft I soar, and claim my native skies.
My buried kindred pioneer the way,
And hail me welcome to the realms of day;
Point to the pathway they through faith have trod,
To join in choral praise around the throne of God!

The succeeding poem is the effusion of that dear child, who has already been introduced to the reader. The feelings of a Father would not permit him to withold it from this volume. It can hardly fail to find a response in the breast of every Parent.

TO MY FATHER,

DISTANT FROM HOME.

FATHER! thou art far away,
On thy daughter's natal day;
In the stranger's distant land,
Separated from that band

Of loving hearts, who often pray
For blessings on thy lonely way;

And breathe the wish, that thou may'st roam,

Back to thy own mountain home.

FATHER! by that home's dear hearth,

Joyless sound the tones of mirth;

And the tuneful voice of song

Floating mournfully along,

Minds us of thy absent face,

Of thy dreary, vacant place;
And the gushing tear-drops start,
From the fount of each warm heart!

FATHER! from the land and sea,-.
Gathered to our home so free,
Will our broken household chain
Meet with all its links again?
They who, in their childhood's bliss,
Shared the same fond Mother's kiss,
Will they, (ne'er again to roam,)
Meet in our own youthful home?

FATHER! yes, to part no more,
On a waveless, peaceful shore,
ALL the links of that dear chain,
Scattered, shall unite again;
Meet to join the tide of song,
Flowing gloriously along;

To the Lamb, who dwells above,

IN OUR BEAUTEOUS HOME OF LOVE.

Millington, Ct., Jan. 7.

LOUISA.

CONSOLATORY REFLECTIONS.

A FRIENDLY TRIBUTE, INSCRIBED TO MRS. P. E. P..., OF SAVANNAH,

GEORGIA; ON THE DEATH OF HER SON..

I have seen his ways, and I will heal him; I will lead him also, and restore comforts to him, and to his mourners. ISAIAH, LVII. 18.

ONE placid truth Philosophy may teach :-
Divide our burden, and more light our load
Will prove for our support. And as we find
Relief, when others' aid is proffered us,
So, in the weight of sorrows, that full oft
Oppress us in our pilgrimage of life,
Commiseration may impart relief,

And heartfelt sympathy our cares divide:—
True sympathy, alas! how rarely felt!
How few the hearts that own its genial sway!

Tell me of sympathy ?-'T is mockery, all,
Unless the heart be torn with kindred grief!
Misanthropy as well might claim to share
In Love for fellow man. None but the hear