Famine makes thy father reckless,
Hope has left both him and me;
We could suffer all, my baby,
Had we but a crust for thee.

Sleep, my darling, thou art weary;
God is good, but life is dreary.

Better thou shouldst perish early,
Starve so soon, my darling one,
Than in helpless sin and sorrow
Vainly live as I have done.
Better that thy angel spirit

With my joy, my peace, were flown,
Than thy heart grew cold and careless,
Reckless, hopeless, like my own.

Sleep, my darling, thou art weary;
God is good, but life is dreary.

I am wasted, dear, with hunger,
And my brain is all opprest,
I have scarcely strength to press thee,
Wan and feeble, to my breast.
Patience, baby, God will help us,
Death will come to thee and me,

He will take us to his heaven,
Where no want or pain can be.

Sleep, my darling, thou art weary;
God is good, but life is dreary.

Such the plaint that, late and early,
Did we listen, we might hear
Close beside us, but the thunder
Of a city dulls our ear.

Every heart, as God's bright angel,
Can bid one such sorrow cease;
God has glory when his children
Bring his poor ones joy and peace !
Listen, nearer while she sings
Sounds the fluttering of wings!

B

BE STRONG.

E strong to hope, O Heart!
Though day is bright,
The stars can only shine
In the dark night.

Be strong, O Heart of mine,
Look towards the light!

Be strong to bear, O Heart!
Nothing is vain:

Strive not, for life is care,

And God sends pain;
Heaven is above, and there

Rest will remain !

Be strong to love, O Heart!

Love knows not wrong;

Didst thou love -creatures even,

Life were not long;

Didst thou love God in heaven,

Thou wouldst be strong!

GOD'S GIFTS.

OD gave a gift to Earth:

a child,

Weak, innocent, and undefiled,

Opened its ignorant eyes and smiled.

It lay so helpless, so forlorn,
Earth took it coldly and in scorn,
Cursing the day when it was born.

She gave it first a tarnished name,
For heritage, a tainted fame,
Then cradled it in want and shame.

All influence of Good or Right,
All ray of God's most holy light,
She curtained closely from its sight,

Then turned her heart, her eyes away,
Ready to look again the day

Its little feet began to stray.

In dens of guilt the baby played,
Where sin, and sin alone, was made
The law that all around obeyed.

With ready and obedient care,

He learnt the tasks they taught him there;
Black sin for lesson, - oaths for prayer.

Then Earth arose, and, in her might,
To vindicate her injured right,
Thrust him in deeper depths of night.

Branding him with a deeper brand
Of shame, he could not understand,
The felon outcast of the land.

God gave a gift to Earth: -
a child,
Weak, innocent, and undefiled,
Opened its ignorant eyes and smiled.

And Earth received the gift, and cried
Her joy and triumph far and wide,
Till echo answered to her pride.

She blest the hour when first he came
To take the crown of pride and fame,
Wreathed through long ages for his name.

Then bent her utmost art and skill
To train the supple mind and will,
And guard it from a breath of ill.

She strewed his morning path with flowers, And Love, in tender dropping showers, Nourished the blue and dawning hours.

She shed, in rainbow hues of light,
A halo round the Good and Right,
To tempt and charm the baby's sight.

And every step, of work or play,
Was lit by some such dazzling ray,
Till morning brightened into day.

And then the World arose, and said,
Let added honors now be shed

On such a noble heart and head!

O World, both gifts were pure and bright,
Holy and sacred in God's sight : —
God will judge them and thee aright!

A

A TOMB IN GHENT.

SMILING look she had, a figure slight, With cheerful air, and step both quick and light;

A strange and foreign look the maiden
bore,

That suited the quaint Belgian dress she wore ;
Yet the blue, fearless eyes in her fair face,
And her soft voice, told her of English race;
And ever, as she flitted to and fro,

She sang, (or murmured, rather,) soft and low,
Snatches of song, as if she did not know

That she was singing, but the happy load

Of dream and thought thus from her heart o'erflowed:

And while on household cares she passed along,
The air would bear me fragments of her song;
Not such as village maidens sing, and few

The framers of her changing music knew;

Chants such as heaven and earth first heard of when

The master Palestrina held the pen.

But I with awe had often turned the page,

Yellow with time, and half defaced by age,