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And brings the hidden treasures forth
That lie in memory's store;
That voice I shall hear no more.
Shall still be strong in Heaven-
For peace and comfort given.
Where all the blessed meet,
Around the Saviour's feet;
In holier, purer tone-
Miss MARY ANNE BROWNE.
“How much the wife is dearer than the bride."
SHE stood beside him in the spring-tide hour
Shrinks like a parch'd scroll or with’ring leaf,
fly-, Woman steps forth, and boldly braves the shock, Firm to his interests as the granite rock; SAE stems the wave, unshrinking meets the storm, And wears his guardian angel's earthly form! And if she cannot check the tempest's course, She points a shelter from its 'whelming force! When envy's sneer would coldly blight his name, And busy tongues are sporting with his fame, Who solves each doubt-clears every mist away, And makes him radiant in the face of day? She who would peril fortune, fame, and life, For man, the ingrate—THE DEVOTED WIFE.
MRS. C. B. WILSON.
-The Water-Lilies, that are serene in the calm clear water, but no less serene among the black and scrowling waves.-Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life.
OH! beautiful thou art,
Of a pure heart
Bright Lily of the wave! Rising in fearless grace with every swell, Thou seem'st as if a spirit meekly brave
Dwelt in thy cell:
Lifting alike thy head
The waters be.
What is like thee, fair flower, The gentle and the firm ; thus bearing up To the blue sky that alabaster cup,
As to the shower?
Oh! Love is most like thee,
'Midst Life's dark sea.
And Faith-oh! is not Faith Like thee, too, Lily? springing into light, Still buoyantly, above the billows' might,
Through the storm's breath?
Yes, link'd with such high thoughts,
And peace be wrought:
Something yet more divine Than the clear, pearly, virgin lustre shed Forth from thy breast upon the river's bed, As from a shrine.
EPITAPH ON MISS DRUMMOND,
IN THE CHURCH OF BROADSWORTH, YORKSHIRE.
HERE sleeps what once was beauty, once was grace;
Grace, that with tenderness and sense combined To form that harmony of soul and face,
Where beauty shines the mirror of the mind.
Such was the maid, that, in the morn of youth,
In virgin innocence, in nature's pride, Bless'd with each art that owes its charms to truth,
Sunk in her father's fond embrace, and died. He weeps; O venerate the holy tear!
Faith lends her aid to ease affliction's load ; The parent mourns his child upon the bier, The Christian yields an angel to his God.
THE NATURAL BEAUTY.
WHETHER Stella's eyes are found
and rich brocade;
I those charms alone can prize
THE BUTTERFLY'S BALL.
COME take up your hats, and away let us haste
So said little Robert, and, pacing along,
Saw the children of earth, and the tenants of air,
And there was the Gnat and the Dragon-fly too,
Who with him the Wasp, his companion, did bring,