"The little arms that clasped me,

The innocent lips that pressedWould they have been as pure, Till now? as when of yore

I lulled thee on my breast.

"Now like a dew-drop shrined
Within a crystal stone,

Thou 'rt safe in heaven, my dove!
Safe with the source of love,
The Everlasting One.

"And when the hour arrives,

From flesh that sets me free,

Thy spirit may await-
The first at heaven's gate-

To meet and welcome me."

Little Bessie:

*

AND THE WAY IN WHICH SHE FELL ASLEEP.

RANDOLPH.

HUG me closer, closer, mother,

Put your arms around me tight;
I am cold and tired, mother,

And I feel so strange to-night!
Something hurts me here, dear mother,
Like a stone upon my breast;
Oh! I wonder, wonder, mother,
Why it is I can not rest!

All the day, while you were working,
As I lay upon my bed,

I was trying to be patient,

And to think of what you said;

How the kind and blessed Jesus

Loves bis lambs to watch and keep;
And I wished he'd come and take me

In his arms, that I might sleep.

*From the "Death of Little Children," by Dr. Prime.

Just before the lamp was lighted,
Just before the children came,
While the room was very quiet,

I heard some one call my name.
All at once the window opened;

In a field were lambs and sheep;
Some from out a brook were drinking,
Some were lying fast asleep.

But I could not see the Savior,
Though I strained my eyes to see;
And I wondered, if he saw me,
Would he speak to such as me.
In a moment I was looking

On a world so bright and fair,
Which was full of little children,
And they seemed so happy there.

They were singing, oh, how sweetly!
Sweeter songs I never heard;
They were singing sweeter, mother,
Than our little yellow-bird.
And while I my breath was holding,
ONE, so bright, upon me smiled;

And I knew it must be Jesus,

When he said, "Come here, my child.

"Come up here, my little Bessie,

Come up here and live with me,

Where the children never suffer,
But are happier than you see!"
Then I thought of all you'd told me
Of that bright and happy land:

I was going when you called me,
When you came and kissed my hand.

At first I felt so sorry

You had called me: I would go.
Oh, to sleep and never suffer!
Mother, don't be crying so!
Hug me closer, closer, mother,
Put your arms around me tight;
Oh, how much I love you, mother,
But I feel so strange to-night.

And the mother pressed her closer
To her overburdened breast;
On the heart so near to breaking
Lay the heart so near its rest.
At the solemn hour of midnight,
In the darkness calm and deep,
Lying on her mother's bosom,
Little Bessie fell asleep.

The Reaper and the Flowers.

LONGFELLOW.

THERE is a Reaper whose name is Death,
And with his sickle keen

He

reaps

the bearded grain at a breath,

And the flowers that grow between.

"Shall I have nought that is fair?" saith he, "Have nought but the bearded grain? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me I will give them all back again."

He gazed on the flowers with tearful eyes,

He kissed their drooping leaves;

It was for the Lord of Paradise

He bound them in his sheaves.

"My Lord hath need of these flowerets gay,” The reaper said and smiled;

"Dear tokens of the earth are they,

Where he was once a child.

"They all shall bloom in fields of light,
Transplanted by my care;

And saints upon their garments white,
These sacred flowers wear."