ING.

Great had her sorrow been,
Anguish and woe,
Pouring their full fury,
Bearing her low.
But, in agony sore,
The affliction she bore
Meek as a child.
Though every breath was in agony seethed,
Yet not a murmur her parched lips breathed,
So passively mild.
All the earth's gladness
Is but as sadness
Unto her now.
All its gay pleasures
And its great treasures
Are but as measures
Empty and vain.
Peace, peace in her soul
Has fullest control.

HER DEATH.

Then the deliverer came,
And, in the glorious name
Of the great God, took her away
High unto the regions of day.
And, ere she yielded her breath
Unto the angel of death,
These were the last words she spoke--
How sweetly from her lips they broke!--
"Saviour, receive my spirit,"
Breathed in all the merit
Of her Redeemer's love.
He stood waiting above,
Watching the angels move
Unto His throne.
And thus the angel came and went;
But they who by the pillow bent
Were not the power of vision lent
To see the holy being sent
Among them then,
And moving when
He passed away,
Felt not the soft zephyrs lay
Room for his wing,
Heard not the heavenly throng
Their glad anthem sing,
Till the fulness of their song
Made the high arches ring.

THE LAST FAREWELL.

Well I remember
Her long, lingering look,--
The last farewell I took,
Returning from home.
'Twas early September,
The cornfields looked yellow,
And garden fruits mellow
Were beginning to come.
She came to the gate with me,
And faltered, "Farewell!"
But oh! it was a hard one;
The silent tear fell
Down from her eye.
Merrily the birds sang,
But in her heart rang
A more sorrowful lay,
As she saw me away,
Watching the turn
Where ripples the burn,
Till I had gone past;
And this was the last--
The last of farewells.
Oh how Time tells
His wonderful power,
So stern in the hour!

REFLECTIONS.

Low the flowing crops bent,
With their fulness content;
And many a sickle was sent
Into the rustling fields,
While the gay reaper wields
The bounty which God yields
In his goodness to man.
But as I heard these reapers sing,
Thought not Death's reaper would bring
To me sorrow so soon;
Thought not he would come and remove
The one dearest object of love,
The earth's greatest boon,
From