Due for thy liberal hand, thy frugal mind, Thy pitying eye, thy voice for ever kind, For tenderness, truth, confidence all these:

My heaven-blest vine, that hast thy tendrils twined Round one who loves thee, though his strain be rude, Accept thy best reward-thy husband's gratitude.

My precious babe, my guileless little girl,
The soft sweet beauty of thy cherub face
Is smiling on me radiant as a pearl

With young intelligence, and infant grace;
And must the wintry breath of life efface
Thy purity, fair snow-drop of the spring!

Must evil taint thee-must the world inthral Thine innocent mind, poor harmless little thing? Ah, yes! thou too must taste the cup of wo, Thy heart must learn to grieve, as others do, Thy soul must feel life's many-pointed sting: But fear not, darling child, for well I know Whatever cares may meet thee, ills befall, Thy God, thy father's God, shall lead thee safe thro' all.

ON THE BIRTH OF LITTLE MARY.

Lo, thou hast crowned me with another blessing,
Into my lot has dropt one mercy more ;-
All good, all kind, all wise in Thee possessing,
My cup, O bounteous Giver, runneth o'er,
And still thy princely hand doth without ceasing pour:
For the sweet fruit of undecaying love

Clusters in beauty round my cottage door,
And this new little one, like Noah's dove,

Comes to mine ark with peace, and plenty for my store. O, happy home! O, bright and cheerful hearth!

Look round with me, my lover, friend, and wife, On these fair faces we have lit with life,

And in the perfect blessing of their birth,

Help me to live our thanks for so much heaven on earth.

DAYS GONE BY.

THOUGH We charge to-day with fleetness,

Though we dread to-morrow's sky,
There's a melancholy sweetness
In the name of days gone by;

Yes, though Time has laid his finger
On them, still with streaming eye
There are spots where I can linger,
Sacred to the days gone by.

Oft as Memory's glance is ranging
Over scenes that cannot die,
Then I feel that all is changing,
Then I weep the days gone by.

Sorrowful should I be, and lonely,
Were not all the same as I;
"Tis for all, not my lot only,
To lament the days gone by.

Cease, fond heart; to thee are given
Hopes of better things on high:
There is still a coming heaven,
Brighter than the days gone by:

Faith lifts off the sable curtain
Hiding huge eternity;

Hope accounts her prize as certain,
And forgets the days gone by.

Love, in grateful adoration,

Bids distrust and sorrow fly,

And with glad anticipation

Calms regret for days gone by.

THE CRISIS.

HUSH!-O Heaven! a moment more,
A breath, a step, and all is o'er;
Hark! beneath the waters wild!
Save, O mercy, save my child!

Swiftly from her heaving breast
The mother tore the snowy vest;
Her little truant saw and smiled,
Turn'd-and mercy saved the child.

Thus, the face of love can win
Where fear is weak to scare from sin,
Thus, when faith and conscience slept,
Jesus look'd-and Peter wept.

CHARITY.

FAIR Charity! thou rarest, best, and brightest!
Who would not gladly hide thee in his heart
With all thine angel guests! For thou delightest
To bring such with thee-guests that ne'er depart;
Cherub, with what enticement thou invitest,
Perfect in winning beauty as thou art,
World-wearied man to plant thee in his bosom,
And graft upon his cares thy balmy blossom.

Fain would he be frank-hearted, generous, cheerful,
Forgiving, aiding, loving, trusting ALL;

But knowledge of his kind has made him fearful

All are not friends whom friends he longs to call; For prudence makes men cold, and misery tearful, And interest bids them rise upon his fall, And while they seek their selfish own to cherish, They leave the wounded stag alone to perish.