They flourish in a higher sphere,
O'er time and death victorious;

Yet would these arms have chain'd thee,
And long from heaven detain'd thee.

Sarah! my last, my youngest love,
The crown of every other!

Though thou art born in heaven above,
I am thine only Mother.

Nor will affection let me

Believe thou canst forget me.

Then,-thou in heaven and I on earth,

May this one hope delight us,

That thou wilt hail my second birth,

When death shall re-unite us,

Where worlds no more can sever

Parent and child for ever.

THE WIDOW AND THE FATHERLESS.

WELL, thou art gone, and I am left!
But oh! how cold and dark to me
This world, of every charm bereft,
Where all was beautiful with thee!

Though I have seen thy form depart
For ever from my widow'd eye,

I hold thee in mine inmost heart;
There, there at least, thou canst not die.

Farewell on earth; Heaven claim'd its own;
Yet, when from me thy presence went,
I was exchanged for God alone:

Let dust and ashes learn content.

Ha! those small voices silver sweet!
Fresh from the fields my babes appear:
They fill my arms, they clasp my feet:
-"O could your father see us here!"

THE DAISY IN INDIA.

Supposed to be addressed by the Reverend Dr. CAREY, the learned and illustrious Baptist Missionary at Serampore, to the first plant of this kind, which sprang up unexpectedly in his garden, out of some English earth, in which other seeds had been conveyed to him from this country. With great care and nursing, the Doctor has been enabled to perpetuate the Daisy in India, as an annual only, raised by seed preserved from season to season.

THRICE Welcome, little English flower!
My mother-country's white and red,
In rose or lily, till this hour,

Never to me such beauty spread :

Transplanted from thine island-bed,
A treasure in a grain of earth,
Strange as a spirit from the dead,
Thine embryo sprang to birth.

Thrice welcome, little English flower!
Whose tribes, beneath our natal skies,
Shut close their leaves while vapours lower;
But, when the sun's gay beams arise,

With unabash'd but modest eyes,
Follow his motion to the west,
Nor cease to gaze till daylight dies,
Then fold themselves to rest.

Thrice welcome, little English flower,
To this resplendent hemisphere,
Where Flora's giant offspring tower
In gorgeous liveries all the year;
Thou, only thou, art little here,
Like worth unfriended and unknown,
Yet to my British heart more dear
Than all the torrid zone.

Thrice welcome, little English flower!
Of early scenes beloved by me,
While happy in my father's bower,

Thou shalt the blithe memorial be;

The fairy sports of infancy,

Youth's golden age, and manhood's prime, Home, country, kindred, friends,-with thee, I find in this far clime.

'Thrice welcome, little English flower!
I'll rear thee with a trembling hand;
Oh, for the April sun and shower,
The sweet May dews of that fair land,
Where Daisies, thick as star-light, stand
In every walk!-that here may shoot
Thy scions, and thy buds expand,
A hundred from one root.

Thrice welcome, little English flower!
To me the pledge of hope unseen;
When sorrow would my soul o'erpower
For joys that were, or might have been,
I'll call to mind, how, fresh and green,
I saw thee waking from the dust;
Then turn to heaven with brow serene,
And place in God my trust.

THE DROUGHT.

Written in the Summer of 1826. Hosea, ii. 21,

22.

WHAT Strange, what fearful thing hath come to pass? The ground is iron, and the heavens are brass; Man on the withering harvests casts his eye, "Give me your fruits in season or I die;" The timely Fruits implore their parent Earth, "Where is thy strength to bring us forth to birth?"

The Earth, all prostrate, to the Clouds complains,
"Send to my heart your fertilizing rains;"

The Clouds invoke the Heavens," Collect, dispense
Through us your quickening, healing influence;"
The Heavens to Him that made them raise their moan,
"Command thy blessing and it shall be done :"
The Lord is in his temple;-hush'd and still,
The suppliant Universe awaits his will.

He speaks; and to the clouds the Heavens dispense, With lightning-speed, their genial influence; The gathering, breaking Clouds pour down their rains, Earth drinks the bliss through all her eager veins; From teeming furrows start the Fruits to birth, And shake their treasures on the lap of Earth; Man sees the harvest grow beneath his eye, Turns, and looks up with rapture to the sky; All that have breath and being now rejoice; All Nature's voices blend in one great voice, 66 Glory to God, who thus himself makes known!" —When shall all tongues confess Him God alone?

Lord, as the rain comes down from Heaven;-the rain,

Which waters Earth, nor thence returns in vain,
But makes the tree to bud, the grass to spring,
And feeds and gladdens every living thing;
So may thy word, upon a world destroy'd,
Come down in blessing, and return not void;
So may it come in universal showers,

And fill Earth's dreariest wilderness with flowers,

L