All earthly trust, all mortal years, however light they fly,

But darken on the glowing cheek, and dim the eagle eye;

But there, our bright, unwithering flower—our spirit's hoarded store

We keep through every chance and change, the same for evermore.

THE TRANSPLANTED FLOWER.

In some rude spot, where vulgar herbage grows,
If chance a violet rear its purple head,
The careful gard'ner moves it ere it blows,
To thrive and flourish in a nobler bed.
Such was thy fate, dear child,
Thy opening such !

Pre-eminence in early bloom was shown,
For earth too good, perhaps,

And loved too much

Heav'n

saw,

and early marked thee for its own! ·

R. B. SHERIDAN.

MARTIN LUTHER AND HIS DYING DAUGHTER.

LUTHER was called to part with Magdalen at the age of fourteen. She was a most endearing child, and united the firmness and perseverance of the

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father, with the gentleness and delicacy of the mother. When she grew very ill, Luther said, "Dearly do I love her! but, O my God, if it be Thy will to take her hence, I resign her to Thee without a murmur."

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He then approached the bed, and said to her, My dear little daughter, my beloved Magdalen, you would willingly remain with your earthly father; but, if God calls you, you will also willingly go to your Heavenly Father."

She replied, "Yes, dear father; it is as God pleases."

"Dear little girl," he exclaimed, “O, how I love her! The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak." He then took the Bible and read to her the passage in Isaiah :-" Thy dead men shall live, together with my dead body shall they arise. Awake and sing, ye that dwell in dust, for thy dew is as the dew of herbs, and the earth shall cast out the dead."

He then said, "My daughter, enter thou into thy resting-place in peace."

She turned her dying eyes towards him, and said, with touching simplicity, "Yes, father."

The night preceding her death, Catharine,* worn out with watching, reclined her head on the sick-bed and slept. When she awoke, she appeared much agitated; and, as soon as Philip Melanchthon arrived, she hastened to him and told him her dream.

*The child's mother.

"I saw two young men, who seemed to be clad in robes of light, enter the room. I pointed to Magdalen, who lay quietly sleeping, and made a sign to them not to disturb her; but they said they came to conduct her to the bridal ceremony."

Melanchthon was much moved, and afterwards said to his wife, "These were holy angels, that Catharine saw in her dream; and they will conduct the virgin to her bridal in the celestial kingdom."

When her last moments were near, she raised her eyes tenderly to her parents, and begged them not to weep for her. "I go," said she, "to my Father in heaven," and a sweet smile irradiated her dying countenance. Luther threw himself upon his knees, weeping bitterly, and fervently prayed God to spare her to them ;—in a few moments she expired in the arms of her father. Catharine, unequal to repressing the agony of her sorrow, was at a little distance, perhaps unable to witness the last, longdrawn breath. When the scene was closed, Luther repeated fervently, "The will of God be done!

yes, she has gone to her Father in heaven." Philip

Melanchthon, who, with his wife, was present, said, "Parental love is an image of the Divine love impressed on the hearts of men; God does not love the beings he has created less than parents love their children."

When they were about putting the child into the coffin, the father said, "Dear little Magdalen, I see

thee now lifeless, but thou wilt shine in the heavens as a star! I am joyous in spirit, but in the flesh most sorrowful. It is wonderful to realize that she is happy,-better taken care of, and yet to be so sad."

Then turning to the mother, who was bitterly weeping, he said, "Dear Catharine, remember where she is gone,-ah, she has made a blessed exchange. The heart bleeds without doubt; it is natural that it should; but the spirit, the immortal spirit, rejoices. Happy are those who die young; -children do not doubt,--they believe; with them all is trust; they fall asleep."

When the funeral took place, and the people were assembled to convey the body to its last home, some friends said they sympathised with him in his affliction. "Be not sorrowful for me," he replied; "I have sent a saint to heaven. O may we all die such a death! Gladly would I accept it now!"

When they began to chant, "Lord, remember not our ancient sins," Luther said, "Not only our ancient, but our present sins."

To his friend Justus Jonas he soon after wrote the following letter:

"September 23, 1542.

"I doubt not thou hast heard of the birth of my little Magdalen into the kingdom of Christ. My wife and I ought only to think of rendering thanks for

her happy transition and peaceful end;-for by it she has escaped the power of the flesh, the world, the Turks,* and the devil;-yet nature is strong, and I cannot support this event without tears and groans, or, to speak more truly, without a broken heart. On my very soul are engraved the looks, the words, the gestures, during her life, and on the bed of death,—of my obedient, my loving child! Even the death of Christ (and what are all deaths in comparison with that?) cannot turn away my thoughts from hers as it ought. She was, as thou knowest, lovely in her character, and full of tenderness."

LUTHER'S Christmas Tree.

DIRGE OF A CHILD.

No bitter tears for thee be shed,
Blossom of being! seen and gone!
With flowers alone we strew thy bed,
O blest departed one!

Whose all of life, a rosy ray,

Blushed into dawn, and passed away.

Yes! thou art fled, ere guilt had power
To stain thy cherub soul and form;
Closed is the soft ephemeral flower,
That never felt a storm!

At this time there was great apprehension from the war with the Turks.