MOTHER'S LITANY BY THE SICK-BED OF A CHILD.

SAVIOUR that of woman born,

Mother-sorrow didst not scorn,

Thou, with whose last anguish strove

One dear thought of earthly love;

Hear and aid!

Low he lies, my precious child,
With his spirit wandering wild
From its gladsome tasks and play,
And its bright thoughts far away:-
Saviour, aid!

Pain sits heavy on his brow,

E'en though slumber seal it now;
Round his lip is quivering strife,
In his hand unquiet life;

Aid, oh! aid.

Saviour! loose the burning chain
From his fever'd heart and brain,
Give, oh! give his young soul back
Into his own cloudless track!

Hear and aid!

Thou that said'st, "awake, arise!"
E'en when death had quench'd the eyes,
In this hour of grief's deep sighing,
When o'erwearied hope is dying!

Hear and aid!

Yet, oh! make him thine, all thine,
Saviour! whether Death's or mine!
Yet, oh! pour on human love,
Strength, trust, patience, from above!

Hear and aid!

NIGHT HYMN AT SEA.

THE WORDS WRITTEN FOR A MELODY BY FELTON.

NIGHT sinks on the wave,

Hollow gusts are sighing,
Sea-birds to their cave

Through the gloom are flying.
Oh! should storms come sweeping,
Thou, in Heaven unsleeping,
O'er thy children vigil keeping,
Hear, hear, and save!

Stars look o'er the sea,

Few, and sad, and shrouded!

Faith our light must be,

When all else is clouded.

Thou, whose voice came thrilling,

Wind and billow stilling,

Speak once more! our prayer fulfilling

Power dwells with Thee!

FEMALE CHARACTERS OF SCRIPTURE.

A SERIES OF SONNETS.1

Your tents are desolate; your stately steps,
Of all their choral dances, have not left
One trace beside the fountains; your full cup
Of gladness and of trembling, each alike
Is broken: yet, amidst undying things,
The mind still keeps your loveliness, and still
All the fresh glories of the early world

Hang round you in the spirit's pictured halls,
Never to change!

I.

INVOCATION.

As the tired voyager on stormy seas

Invokes the coming of bright birds from shore, To waft him tidings with the gentler breeze,

Of dim sweet woods that hear no billows roar; So from the depth of days, when earth yet wore Her solemn beauty and primeval dew,

I call you, gracious Forms! Oh! come, restore Awhile that holy freshness, and renew

Life's morning dreams. Come with the voice, the lyre,

Daughters of Judah! with the timbrel rise!

Ye of the dark prophetic eastern eyes,

Imperial in their visionary fire;

Oh! steep my soul in that old glorious time,

When God's own whisper shook the cedars of your

clime!

'Suggested by the perusal of Mrs. Sandford's Woman.

II.

INVOCATION CONTINUED.

And come, ye faithful! round Messiah seen,
With a soft harmony of tears and light
Streaming through all your spiritual mien,
As in calm clouds of pearly stillness bright,
Showers weave with sunshine, and transpierce
their slight

Ethereal cradle.-From your heart subdued

All haughty dreams of power had wing'd their flight, And left high place for martyr fortitude,

-

True faith, long suffering love. Come to me, come!
And, as the seas beneath your master's tread
Fell into crystal smoothness, round him spread
Like the clear pavement of his heavenly home:
So in your presence, let the soul's great deep
Sink to the gentleness of infant sleep.

III.

THE SONG OF MIRIAM.

A song for Israel's God!-Spear, crest, and helm,
Lay by the billows of the old Red Sea,
When Miriam's voice, o'er that sepulchral realm
Sent on the blast a hymn of jubilee;

With her lit eye, and long hair floating free,
Queen-like she stood, and glorious was the strain,
E'en as instinct with the tempestuous glee
Of the dark waters, tossing o'er the slain.
A song for God's own victory!-O, thy lays,
Bright Poesy! were holy in their birth:-
How hath it died, thy seraph note of praise,
In the bewildering melodies of earth!
Return from troubling bitter founts-return,
Back to the life-springs of thy native urn!

IV.

RUTH.

The plume-like swaying of the auburn corn,
By soft winds to a dreamy motion fann'd,
Still brings me back thine image-Oh! forlorn,
Yet not forsaken, Ruth!—I see thee stand
Lone, 'midst the gladness of the harvest band-
Lone as a wood-bird on the ocean's foam,
Fall'n in its weariness. Thy father-land
Smiles far away! yet to the sense of home,
That finest, purest, which can recognize
Home in affection's glance, for ever true
Beats thy calm heart; and if thy gentle eyes

Gleam tremulous through tears, 'tis not to rue Those words, immortal in their deep Love's tone, "Thy people and thy God shall be mine own!"

V.

THE VIGIL OF RIZPAH.

"And Rizpah, the daughter of Aiah, took sackloth, and spread it for her upon the rock, from the beginning of harvest until water dropped upon them out of heaven; and suffered neither the birds of the air to rest on them by day, nor the beasts of the field by night."—2 Sam. xxi. 10.

Who watches on the mountain with the dead,
Alone before the awfulness of night?-
A seer awaiting the deep spirit's might?
A warrior guarding some dark pass of dread?
No, a lorn woman!-On her drooping head,

Once proudly graceful, heavy beats the rain;
She recks not-living for the unburied slain,
Only to scare the vulture from their bed.
So, night by night, her vigil hath she kept
With the pale stars, and with the dews hath wept;—
VOL. VII.

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