82

MY MOTHER'S GRAVE.

be removed if we are to be made happy. It is far better that this disease should be expelled by the use of means, however painful, then that, by the withholding of those means, it should be increased, inflamed, and cause our destruction. We must be partakers of his holiness, that we may be of his happiness; and if it is true that "tribulation worketh patience, and patience experience, and experience hope, and hope maketh not ashamed," then are our afflictions, duly received, to be numbered among our greatest blessings. This, then, is the light in which you should accustom yourselves to view your afflictions-as commissioned by God; as merited by your sins; as the effect of perfect parental care; and with an earnest desire to derive the benefit designed in your sanctification.

MY MOTHER'S GRAVE.

JAMES ALDRICH..

IN beauty lingers on the hills

The death smile of the dying day;
And twilight in my heart instils
The softness of its rosy ray.
I watch the river's peaceful flow,
Here, standing by my mother's grave,
And feel my dreams of glory go

Like weeds upon its sluggish wave.

God gives us ministers of love,

Which we regard not, being near: Death takes them from us; then we feel That angels have been with us here. As mother, sister, friend, or wife,

They guide us, cheer us, soothe our pain, And when the grave has closed between

Our hearts and theirs, we love-in vain.

Would, MOTHER, thou couldst hear me tell
How oft, amid my brief career,
For sins and follies loved too well,
Hath fallen the free repentant tear;
And in the waywardness of youth,
How better thoughts have given to me
Contempt for error, love for truth,
'Mid sweet remembrances of thee.

The harvest of my youth is done,

And manhood, come with all its cares, Finds, garnered up within my heart, For every flower a thousand tares. DEAR MOTHER, couldst thou know my thoughts, Whilst bending o'er this holy shrine,

The depth of feeling in my breast,

Thou wouldst not blush to call me thine.

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FRIEND AFTER FRIEND DEPARTS.

FRIEND AFTER FRIEND DEPARTS.

MONTGOMERY.

FRIEND after friend departs;

Who hath not lost a friend?
There is no union here of hearts
That finds not here an end:
Were this frail world our only rest,
Living or dying, none were blest.

Beyond the flight of time,

Beyond this vale of death,
There surely is some blesséd clime
Where life is not a breath,
Nor life's affections transient fire,
Whose sparks fly upward to expire.

There is a world above,

Where parting is unknown -
A whole eternity of love,

Formed for the good alone;
And faith beholds the dying here
Translated to that happier sphere.

Thus star by star declines,

Till all are passed away,

As morning high and higher shines

To pure and perfect day :

Nor sink those stars in empty night;

They hide themselves in heaven's own light.

BENEFIT OF AFFLICTION.

BAXTER.

AFFLICTIONS are God's most effectual means to keep us from losing our way to our heavenly rest. Without this hedge of thorns on the right hand and left, we should hardly keep the way to heaven. If there be but one gap open, how ready are we to find it, and turn out at it! When we grow wanton, or worldly, or proud, how much doth sickness, or other affliction, reduce us! Every Christian, as well as Luther, may call affliction one of the best schoolmasters, and, with David, may say, "Before I was afflicted, I went astray; but now have I kept thy word." Many thousand recovered sinners may cry, "O healthful sickness! O comfortable sorrows! O gainful losses! O enriching poverty! O blessed day that ever I was afflicted! Not only the "green pastures and still waters, but the rod and staff, they comfort us." Though the Word and Spirit do the main work, yet suffering so unbolts the door of the heart, that the word hath easier entrance. It were well if mere love would prevail with us, and that we were rather drawn

86

CONSOLATION SOUGHT AND FOUND.

to heaven than driven. But, seeing our hearts are so bad that mercy will not do it, it is better to be put on with the sharpest scourge than loiter like the foolish virgins till the door is shut. O, what a difference is there betwixt our prayers in health and in sickness! betwixt our repentings in prosperity and adversity! Alas! if we did not sometimes feel the spur, what a slow pace would most of us hold toward heaven! Since our vile natures require it, why should we be unwilling that God should do us good by sharp means? Judge, Christian, whether thou dost not go more watchfully and speedily in the way to heaven in thy sufferings than in thy more pleasant and prosperous state.

CONSOLATION SOUGHT AND FOUND.

J. BOWRING.

WHEN the clouds of desolation

Gather o'er my naked head,

And my spirit's agitation

Knows not where to turn or tread;
When life's gathering storms compel me
To submit to wants and woes,

Who shall teach me, who shall tell me,
Where my heart may find repose?

To the stars I fain would reach me ;
There the God of light must dwell;