THE LOST ONE.

Mary Howitt.

WE meet around the board-thou art not there; Over our household joys hath pass'd a gloom:

Beside the fire we see thy empty chair,

And miss thy sweet voice in the silent room. What hopeless longings after thee arise! Even for the touch of thy small hand I pine, And for the sound of thy dear little feet. Alas! tears dim my eyes:

Meeting in every place some joy of thine;

Or when fair children pass me in the street.

Beauty was on thy cheek, and thou didst seem A privileged being, charter'd from decay; And thy free spirit, like a mountain stream

That hath no ebb, kept on his cheerful way. Thy laugh was like the inspiring breath of Spring, That thrills the heart, and cannot be unfelt.

And every living thing,

The sun, the moon, the green leaves, and the [flowers, Were a strong joy to thee; thy spirit dwelt

Gladly in life, rejoicing in its powers.

Oh! what had Death to do with one like thee?

Thou young and loving one, whose soul did cling Even as the ivy clings unto the tree,

To those who loved thee; thou, whose tears would spring,

Dreading a short day's absence-didst thou go
Alone unto the future world unseen,
Solving each awful untried mystery-
The dread Unknown to know?

To be where mortal traveller bath not been,
Whence welcome tidings cannot come from thee!

My happy boy! and murmur I that Death
Over thy young and buoyant frame had power!
In yon bright land love never perisheth,

Hope may not mock, nor grief the heart devour. The Beautiful are round thee-thou dost keep Within the Eternal Presence, and no more May'st death, or pain, or separation dread: Thy bright eyes cannot weep,

Nor they with whom thou art thy loss deplore; For ye are of the living, not the dead.

Thou dweller with th' Unseen, who hast explored The universe unknown; thou, to whom death

and heaven

Are mysteries no more; whose soul is stored

With knowledge for which men have vainly striven.

Beloved child! Oh! when shall I lie down

With thee beneath fair trees that cannot fade? When from the immortal rivers quench my thirst? Life's journey speedeth on;

Yet, for a little while, we walk in shade— Anon, 'tis done-death hath the cloud dispersed, And o'er the hills of heaven the eternal day has burst.

THE LORD WILL PROVIDE.

Thomas Dickson.

WHEN whispers unbelieving Fear,

"We'll eat our last lean crust, and die,"

"Tis sweet to think that He is near

Who hears the ravens when they cry.

And sweet his promises must be

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To parents sinking in the dust :

'Your helpless offspring leave with me,

And let your widows in me trust.”

When Satan's chains did round us cling,

When all from God astray had gone, When none a ransom fit could bring, None for his guilty soul atone,—

Then, blessed be Jehovah's name,
He did himself a Lamb provide;
From heaven the spotless victim came,
Who suffer'd for us, and who died.

Oh! let us then confide in heaven,
Repressing each desponding sigh;
He who his "only Son" hath given,
Will nothing that is good deny.

THE EVENING SUN.

Feist.

'Tis the last sweet smile of the evening sun :

How bright! how sublime its beaming! What golden tides of splendour steep The rosy clouds, as they softly sleep Beneath its holy gleaming!

"Tis the light of innocent thoughts, whose ray

An infant's slumber blesses;

When, weary of paying smile for smile,

Its blue eyes close, and it dreams the while
Of the breast it fondly presses.

The breezy spirits of air float past

With calm and noiseless motion ;

Not a zephyr is dimpling the glassy lakeEven the aspen hath still'd its tremulous shake At Nature's high devotion.

As I loiter along my homeward path,
What feelings of deep regret

That last sweet smile of the evening sun
Awakes in my heart-for it speaks of one
Whose sun in the grave hath set!

His farewell look, with Christian hope,
Shone as purely, calmly bright!

Alas! when it vanish'd, the night came down,
And my poor lorn heart no more might own
A Father's guiding light!