(From "She's gone to dwell in Heaven.")
SHE'S gone to dwell in heaven, my lassie,
She's gone to dwell in heaven:
Ye're owre pure, quo' the voice o' God,
For dwelling out o' heaven!

O what'll she do in heaven, my lassie ?
O what'll she do in heaven?

She'll mix her ain thoughts wi' angels' sangs,
An' make them mair meet for heaven.

She was beloved by a', my lassie,

She was beloved by a';

But an angel fell in love wi' her,

An' took her frae us a'.

THE INFLUENCE OF THE DEAD.
WHO are the Spirits watching by the dead?
Faith, from whose eyes a solemn light is shed;
And Hope, with far-off sunshine on the head.
The influence of the dead is that of Heaven;
To it a majesty of power is given,
Working on earth with a diviner leaven.

To them belongs all high and holy thought;
The mind whose mighty empire they have wrought;
And Grief, whose comfort was by angels brought.
And gentle Pity comes, and brings with her
Those pensive dreams that their own light confer;
While Love stands watching by the sepulchre.
L. E. LANDON.
Poetical Works. (Routledge.)

DEATH IN CHILDBIRTH.

SWEET Martyr of thine Infant and thy Love,

O what a death is thine!

Is this to die? Then Love! henceforth approve
This, this of all thy gifts the most divine.
Grave she needs not: Matrons, cover
Her white bed with flowers all over;
With the dark, cool violets swathing
A full bosom mother-hearted;
Under lily shadows bathing

Brows whose anguish hath departed.
Life with others, Death with thee
Plays a grave game smilingly-

O Death not Death! through worlds of bliss
The happy new-born Soul is straying!

O Death not Death! thy Babe in this,
An Angel on the earth is playing!
AUBREY DE VERE.

WITH the mild light some unambitious star
Illumes her pathway through the heavenly blue,-
So unobtrusive that the careless view
Scarce notes her where her haughtier sisters are,—
So ran thy life. Perhaps, from those afar,

Thy gentle radiance little wonder drew,
And all their praise was for the brighter few.
Yet mortal vision is a grievous bar
To perfect judgment. Were the distance riven,
Our eyes might find that star so faintly shone
Because it journeyed through a higher zone,
Had more majestic sway and duties given,
For loftier station on the heights of heaven,
Was next to God, and circled round his throne.
GEORGE H. BOKER.

AND She, my lost adored One, where is She?
Where has she been throughout these dragging years
Of labour?

She has been my light of life!
The lustrous dawn and radiance of the day
At noon and She has burned the colours in
To richer depths across the sun at setting:
And my tired lids She closes: then, in dreams,
Descends a shaft of glory barred with stairs.
And leads my spirit up where I behold

My dear ones lost. And thus through sleep, not death,

Remote from earthly cares and vexing jars,

I taste the stillness of the life to come.

THOMAS WOolner. My Beautiful Lady. (Macmillan.)

THOU wert not form'd for living here, For thou wert kindred with the sky; Yet, yet we held thee all so dear,

We thought thou wert not form'd to die! THOMAS MOore.

"SHE was a love-gift Heaven once gave to earth, And took again, because unworthy of her."

P. J. BAILEY. Festus. (G. Bell.)

THERE is no headstone; for we deemed it vain To carve her record in a mouldering slab, Whose name is written in the Book of Life.

HENRY ALFord. Poetical Works. (Strahan.)

O, THOUGH oft depressed and lonely,
All my fears are laid aside,

If I but remember only

Such as these have lived and died.

H. W. LONGFELLOW.

OUR DEAD.

NOTHING is our own: we hold our pleasures
Just a little while, ere they are fled:
One by one life robs us of our treasures;
Nothing is our own except our dead.

Only the dead Hearts forsake us never;
Death's last kiss has been the mystic sign
Consecrating Love our own for ever,
Crowning it eternal and divine.

ADELAIDE A. PROCTER.
Legends and Lyrics. (G. Bell.)

wwwwww

To our places in the vineyard of our God return

we now,

With kindled eye, with onward step, with hand upon the plough:

Our hearts are safer anchored; our hopes have

richer store;

One treasure more in Heaven is ours; one bright example more.

HENRY ALFORD. Poetical Works. (Isbister.)

SORROW NOT WITHOUT HOPE.

Rather let us now strive

Nor lost, but gone before,

Still in our Father's care, Let this thought fill our souls And save us from despair.

Let not distrustful fear,

Now make us faithless prove, Deem not our fondest care

Could e'er exceed God's love. Check not the pious prayer,

That from thine heart doth rise
For those, on earth so dear,

Now passed beyond the skies.
Who knows where now they wait,
In what far distant star?
Or if a thought of us

Doth draw them from afar,
Bringing them near us yet

Though unperceived by senseWe feel for them in vain,

Hindered by vision dense? Can those who loved us here

Hereafter careless prove?

Or can death make them now
Forgetful of our love?

No for the love they gave

Was their immortal part; God only could have poured

That love into man's heart.
Affection, strong and pure,

Can neither change nor die;
Death but asserts anew
Its immortality!
We shall behold them yet,
Purged from the dross of sin,
When, through the gate of death,
Our new life shall begin.
Oh, let us strive to keep

Their mem❜ry fresh and green,
Not drive them from our thoughts
In life's vain changeful scene.

Surely if grief be felt

By souls from earth released,

They feel it when they know.

Our thought of them hath ceased.

To train our souls to love,
All that in them we trust
Is perfecting above;
That when we meet again,

Beyond earth's furthest shore,
We still may converse hold,
And love on more and more.

ETA.
Echoes. (Shrimpton, Oxford.)

www

OH, what were life, if life were all? Thine eyes
Are blinded by their tears, or thou would'st see
Thy treasures wait thee in the far-off skies,
And Death, thy friend, will give them all to thee.
ADELAIDE A. PROCTER.

Legends and Lyrics. (G. Bell.)

OUR God, to call us homeward,

His only Son sent down:

And now, still more to tempt our hearts, Has taken up our own.

THOMAS WARD.

THUS heaven is gathering, one by one, in its capacious breast,

All that is pure and permanent, and beautiful and

blest;

The family is scatter'd yet, though of one home and heart,

Part militant in earthly gloom, in heavenly glory

part.

But who can speak the rapture, when the circle is complete,

And all the children sunder'd now around our Father meet?

One fold, one Shepherd, one employ, one everlasting home:

"Lo! I come quickly." "Even so, Amen! Lord Jesus, come!"

E. H. BICKERSTETH.

O SOOTHE US, haunt us, night and day, Ye gentle spirits far away,

With whom we shar'd the cup of grace,
Then parted; ye to Christ's embrace,
We to the lonesome world again,
Yet mindful of th' unearthly strain
Practis'd with you at Eden's door,
To be sung on, where Angels soar,
With blended voices evermore.

JOHN KEBLE.
Christian Year. (Parker.)

AND we shall fold and clasp again
In arms of love the love we miss,
And end all greetings with a kiss
That shall seal up the gates of pain.

MATTHIAS BARR.
Little Willie. (Longmans.)

Bur to the heavens that simple soul is fled,
Which left, with such as covet Christ to know,

Witness of faith, that never shall be dead;
Sent for our health, but not received so.
EARL OF SURREY.

FRIEND of my youth, farewell!

To thee, we trust, a happier life is given; One tie to earth for us hath loosed its spell, Another formed for heaven.

WILLIAM J. PABODIE.

Down through our crowded lanes, and closer air,
O friend, how beautiful thy footsteps were;
When through the fever's waves of fire they trod,
A form was with thee like the Son of God.
"Twas but one step for those victorious feet
From their day's walk unto the golden street;
And they who watched that walk, so bright and
brief,

Have mark'd this marble with their hope and grief.
W. ALEXANDER
Specimens.

THE garlands wither on your brow,
Then boast no more your mighty deeds;
Upon death's purple altar now

See where the victor victim bleeds:

Thou liest low and silent,

Thy heart is cold and still, Thine eyes are shut for ever,

And Death has had his will; He loved and would have taken, I loved and would have kept, We strove, and he was stronger, And I have never wept.

Let him possess thy body,

Thy soul is still with me, More sunny and more gladsome Than it was wont to be: Thy body was a fetter

That bound me to the flesh,
Thank God that it is broken,
And now I live afresh !

Now I can see thee clearly;
The dusky cloud of clay,
That hid thy starry spirit,
Is rent and blown away:

To earth I give thy body,

Thy spirit to the sky,
I saw its bright wings growing,
And knew that thou must fly.
Now I can love thee truly,

For nothing comes between
The senses and the spirit,
The seen and the unseen;
Lifts the eternal shadow,

The silence bursts apart,
And the soul's boundless future
Is present in my heart.

J. R. LOWELL. Poetical Works. (Ward, Lock, and Co.)

'Tis sweet, as year by year we lose Friends out of sight, in faith to muse How grows in Paradise our store.

JOHN KEBLE. Christion Year. (Parker.)