our children will ever become lost and degraded. The bare suggestion seems an insult to the heart of parental love, and none believe it of their own. But where is the safeguard? Who will give me a pledge that my son will not bring my hairs with sorrow to the grave? Who can tell me that my daughter, had she lived, would not have wrung my heart with anguish, and made me curse the hour wherein she was born?

There was an angel once who stood before God. Age after age he swept the harpstrings, and cherubim and seraphim came from the uttermost heaven to hear his song, as it rolled out, sweeter and purer than all the rest. But sin entered that angel heart; he fell; his shriek echoed through the skies, and gave fearful evidence that all was lost. And now, scarred and blackened, he liveth only to destroy. Good men fly from him; angels turn their faces from him as they meet him in the air, and God denounces him as his most terrible foe. So the cherub things that lie cradled on your breast sometimes change to fiends of vengeance and despair.

But if the child die in early life, this life of sin is escaped entirely; these pitfalls are all avoided. The child is rendered to God; the body lies in the ground, and the spirit ascends to heaven. O, there

it is safe from temptations and sins. Had it remained here we know not what it might have been; but now we know what it will forever be. No tear can dim that angel eye; no grief can stain that angel cheek; no discord can mar that angel song. The dark wing of sin will not hang over that spirit, but in the full, broad blaze of an eternal day it will forever live.

It is well with the child! We have had a sorrowful parting. Tears have been freely shed, and mourning has been put on; but it is well with the child.

""Tis better far in childhood's

Friendless years, ere sorrows come and cares of earth
Enslave us, sweetly to fall asleep and

Wake in heaven."

It must be to the pious parent a source of holy satisfaction that he has a child safe in glory. Day after day, as he watches the struggle with death, he sees in the light of his exalted faith the effort of the soul to break the chrysalis of time and soar away. And when the contest is over, and the little hands are folded upon the tender breast, he knows that his child is with the holy angels. He seems to stand on the shore of a river, on the other side of which is the city of God, of whose beautiful palaces he

now and then catches a glimpse, and whose music now and then steals deliciously upon his senses.

"Time is a river deep and wide,

And while along its banks we stray,
We see our loved ones o'er its tide
Sail from our sight away, away.
Where are they sped - they who return
No more to glad our longing eyes?
They've passed from life's contracted bourn
To land unseen, unknown, that lies

Beyond the river."

WHEN I AM OLD.

WHEN I am old- and O, how soon
Will life's sweet morning yield to noon,
And noon's broad, fervid, earnest light
Be shrouded in the solemn night;

Till like a story well nigh told
Will seem my life when I am old.

When I am old - this breezy earth
Will lose for me its voice of mirth;
The streams will have an under tone
Of sadness, not by right their own;
And spring's sweet power in vain unfold
In rosy charms when I am old.

POP, GOES THE QUESTION

LIST to me, sweet maiden, pray;
Pop, goes the question!

Will you marry me, yea or nay

Pop, goes the question!

I've no time to plead or sigh,

?

No patience to wait for by and by;
Snare me now, I'm sure to fly;

Pop, goes the question!

"Ask

papa," O, fiddle de dee!

Pop, goes the question!.

Fathers and lovers can never agree;

Pop, goes the question!

He can't tell what I want to know,
Whether you love me, sweet, or no;
To ask him would be very slow;
Pop, goes the question!

I think we'd make such a charming pair; Pop, goes the question!

For I'm good looking, and you're very fair; Pop, goes the question!

And

We'll travel life's road in a gallant style, you shall drive every other mile, O, if it pleases you, all the while;

Pop, goes the question!

If we don't have an enchanting time,
Pop, goes the question!

I'm sure it will be no fault of mine;
Pop, goes the question!

To be sure, my funds make a feeble show;
But love is a nourishing food, you know,
And cottages rent uncommonly low;
Pop, goes the question!

Then answer me quickly, darling, pray ;

Pop, goes the question!

Will you marry me, yea or nay ?

Pop, goes the question!

I've no time to plead or sigh,

No patience to wait for by and by;
Snare me now, or I'm going to fly;
Pop, goes the question!