« PreviousContinue »
THE MOTHER'S GRAVE.
No mellow plum, no juicy pear,
My mother! All, all is chang'd, ee'n puss no more Ruins round and round upon the floor, But pining watches at the door,
My mother! And weary is the live-long day, No joyous talk, no gladsome piay ; Oh! would thou hadst not gone away,
My mother! I left my father near the stile, King-cups I went to seek the wbile, Pale was his cheek, and faint his smile,
My mother! I strove to coax bim forth to play, So hid behind the tombstone grey, Then peep'd—but he's no longer gay,
My mother! Last night he took me on his knee, And gazing mournfully on me, Pray'd God my Father kind to be,
My mother! And when to cheer him all I tried, Nought he to aught I said replied, But wept and turn'd his head aside,
Yet every eve both he and I
My mother! And oft we call upon thy name; Ah me! when once we did the same, Who sweetly smil'd and swiftly came?
My mother! Now, now the moaning wind sweeps by, And waves the poplar boughs on high, But ah! no voice makes fond reply,
My mother! They tell me thou art gone to God, That 'tis but dust beneath the sod, That death's “a path which must be trod,"
My mother! And when I raise my searching eyes, I think I see thee in the skies, Till tears blind me as they arise,
My mother! Oh! had I wings I'd fly to thee, And with my father would we be, In heaven a happy family,
My mother! Then let me read God's book with care, And think betimes of praise and prayer, That I one day may join thee there,
Lucy GREEN was born at Preston, May 13th, 1830. Her parents, John and Mary Green, were situated in very low circumstances : they had to labour hard to procure food for themselves and their small family. Lucy's means of gaining instruction were limited, as the humble circumstances of her parents made it necessary that she should work for her living, six days of the week. Her small store of knowledge was, therefore, principally obtained at the Sabbathschool. It afforded great pleasure to her parents to observe her anxiety to improve to the utmost the means she had. She paid steady attention to the instruction given her, and gave prompt and correct answers to such questions as were put to her.
When Lucy was turned eight years of age, she became very ill. During the former part of her illness, no particular care about her soul was observed; but she was very patient and humble. About a month before her death, she told her mother that she was a great sinner. In consequence of this conviction, she began to seek earnestly for the pardon of her sins; and, in the course of two or three days, expressed herself as having obtained mercy; and her pleasing countenance and expression proved that a delightful change had taken place. After this period, it did not appear that she had
or desire to get better. In speaking, one day, lo her younger sister, she entreated her to be good and obedient, and continue to attend the Sundayschool. She told her she was going to die, and leave father and mother, brother and sister; and that she should see her little brother who was gone to heaven, and how she should like to meet her also there. One day, when very ill, she said, “I shall soon see Jesus, who loves little children." On being asked whether she would rather die than live, she said, “O I had rather die, and live with Jesus.” On another occasion, when alluding to her approaching change, she told her mother that she remembered reading of the pilgrim finding it hard to cross the river, but that he got safe over; and added, that she believed Jesus would be with her in death, and not suffer her to sink.
In this state of mind this happy girl died, aged nine years, and has left an example worthy to be imitated by every Sunday-scholar.
A Lover of Sunday-schools.
“ FARE THEE WELL!” Lines written on hearing of the happy death of Marianne, eldest daughter of the Rev. T. Jackson, who deqarted
this life April 28, 1840, aged fifteen years. Youthful stranger, fare the well;
'Thou hast found an early grave: Go, with Jesus Christ to dwell,
Prove his utmost power to save.
FARE THEE WELL.
In afflictions furnace tried,
Pardon'd through a Saviour's blood, Here thy soul was purified,
Meeten'd to behold its God.
Why, then, should'st thou longer stay
In a world of grief and sin? Jesus calls thee—“Come away
Now thy heavenly life begin. “Come, and by my side sit down,
Take the palm, and yield thy breath.” Go, receive thy glorious crown,
Youthful victor over death.
Join the spirits of the blest,
Sing the saints' triumphant song, Go, enjoy an endless rest,
With the blood-besprinkled throng. Weeping friends will mourn thy loss,–
Grief thy parents hearts o'erflow: But to mourn and bear the cross,
Is the christian's lot below.
Yet their grief will turn to joy,
And supporting grace be given; Faith, while pointing to the sky,
Shows their first-born safe in heaven.
God has heard their earnest prayer,
Granted all they ask'd-and more ;
R. P. J.