Yet scarcely had that mother's soul

Escaped this vale of tears,

Or passed the glittering stars that roll Through heaven's unbounded spheres;

Than she forgot the vow she'd made
Upon her bended knee;

Forgot that little one to aid,

Her guardian here to be.

But He who promised to befriend
The motherless and poor,

Till all their earthly trials end,

Till time shall be no more;

At last He summoned Annie, too,
And called her hence away,

To where the truly righteous go

Their golden harps to play.

And as she lifted up her eyes,

(Glazed by the hand of death,)

And gazed upon the opening skies,

With softly ebbing breath;—

"My mother comes! oh see!" she cried,

"Descending from above!

"My mother!" she exclaimed, and died, Wrapt in seraphic love.

Such was the end of Annie dear,

That bright, that blessèd star,

Sent but to show us mortals here,

How beauteous angels are.

But when that little one was dead,

And mouldering in the dust,

When her triumphant soul had fled

To mingle with the just;

Her fair, but base, inconstant friend

No peace, no comfort knew:

And so all holy pleasures end

Whene'er we prove untrue!

No happy dreams, no slumbers light,
Could she at midnight boast;

But some unearthly, fiendlike sprite,

Or some unsightly ghost,

Would haunt her at that dreary hour,

And fill her soul with dread,

As if she saw Heaven's vengeance lower

On her devoted head.

But when life's closing scene drew nigh,

What were her feelings then?

Could she repress the anguished sigh,

Or gushing tears restrain?

Was little Annie sent to bid

Her welcome to the skies?

Was little Annie sent to bid

Her soul triumphant rise?

Had she a glorious hope in death,

A guardian spirit nigh,

An angel waiting for her breath?

Answer. There's no reply.

Solitude.

"O sacred Solitude! divine retreat!

Choice of the prudent! envy of the great!
By thy pure stream, or in thy waving shade,
We court fair Wisdom, that celestial maid."

H! 'tis divinely sweet to steal
From this vain world away,

The bliss of solitude to feel,

As shuts the eye of day.

Far from the busy scenes of life,

To seek some lonely spot,

Where all of earthly care and strife

May be awhile forgot!

YOUNG.

To watch the bright, the full-orbed moon,
The heights of heaven ascend,

With all the stars around her throne,
The hymn of praise to blend!

To sit and hold communion sweet

With Him who reigns on high;

In some secluded, lone retreat,

Unseen by mortal eye.