A MOTHER'S SACRIFICE. Sigourney. 'God loveth a cheerful giver.' 'WHAT shall I render thee, Father supreme, For thy rich gifts; and this the best of all? Said the young mother, as she fondly watched Her sleeping babe. There was an answering voice That night in dreams. 'Thou hast a little bud, Wrapt in thy breast, and fed with dews of love. Give me that bud. 'Twill be a flower in heaven.' But there was silence; yea, a hush so deep, Breathless, and terror stricken, that the lip Blanched in its trance. 'Thou hast a little harp! How sweetly would it swell the angels' song; Yield me that harp.' There burst a shuddering sob As if the bosom by some hidden sword Morn came; a blight had found And that young mother lay upon the earth 'He who asked of thee, Loveth a cheerful giver.' So she raised ness. 'AS THY DAY, SO SHALL THY STRENGTH BE.’ Sigourney. WHEN adverse winds and waves arise, 6 That, as my day my strength shall be.' When, with sad footsteps, memory roves That, as my day my strength shall be.' One trial more must yet be past, TO A DYING INFANT. Miss Bowles. SLEEP, little baby, sleep! Yes! with the quiet dead, Would fain lie down with thee. Flee, little tender nursling Flee to thy grassy nest! There the first flowers shall blow, Mount up, immortal essence, How beautiful thou art! Oh! I would gaze for ever Thou weepest, childless mother! It was thy first-born son, 'Tis hard from him to part. 'Tis hard to lay thy darling Deep in the damp, cold earth, His empty crib to see, His silent nursery, Once gladsome with his mirth. t; But thou wilt then, fond mother, E'en in this gloomy track. Thou'lt say, 'My first-born blessing 'God took thee in his mercy, And thou art sanctified. 'I look around and see 'Now like a dew-drop shrined 'And when the hour arrives, From flesh that sets me free, Thy spirit may await The first at heaven's gate, |