For the last tie was broke which to feeling had bound her, The shroudless and coffinless rest for her child, That soon her torn breast might her babe's sleep be sharing, Her heart no more wrung, and her brain no more wild : For she said, while around her damp vapours aspirant, Rose chill from the moist turf which covered the grave, That earth was less cold than the heart of the tyrant, And death far less drear than the life of a slave. "O SAVIOUR! I DO THIS FOR THEE." Exclamation of Mrs. Comstock, of the Burman Baptist Mission, on sending her two children to the United States. BY SPENCER WALLACE CONE. MORN came, and in that silent bay Beneath the Burman sky, So motionless the vessel lay,' You could not dream, ere close of day, How swiftly she would fly; How, like a mist of summer, part A woman, in a stranger land, Her children? From her throbbing breast And nightly go alone to rest Where once they slumber'd too! Was the cup bitter to the taste- By hostile footsteps trod? Ah! whence shall strength to bear such ill The livelong night, that mother's prayer That as for her the cross He bare, Her cross for Him she too might wear, Supported by his love. Oh! how she kissed them as they slept, And sobbed that prayer each kiss between, And closer, closer to them crept When the first light was seen. Morn came. She led them to the strand, And pointed o'er the main. That she had pillow'd on her heart, One burning kiss-one wild good-bye! Lov'st thou thy Lord? Ask of thine heart A sacrifice like this: And when thou dar'st with such to partThough scalding tears unmaster'd start, And wild farewell and kiss, "Till thy dear heart-strings bursting beOh blest art thou! if thou can'st say, My Saviour! I do this for thee! And turn to tread his way. HYMN. JOHN X. CHRIST is my shepherd: can I doubt Though roaring lions rage around, The path through which my Saviour guides The persecuting fires may burst The stormy billows ne'er shall quench My love, O Lord, for thee; Thou hast redeemed my soul from death, Hast set the captive free. Joyful I follow in the road, My Saviour, thou hast trod, The way, though thorny, dark and drear, Leads upwards to my God. Thy smile shall light, thy voice shall cheer, Thy presence gild my way, Thy Spirit animate my steps E. C. S. |