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OUR MOTHER'S EPITAPH. [The beautiful epitaph on which the subjoined lines are founded, is copied from an American paper. It reminds us of the simple and sublime memorials of some of the earlier Christians, from the Catacombs of Rome, so well described by Maitland, and familiar to most of our readers through the Rev. William Arthur's recent Lecture, at Exeter Hall.]
»* swells in faint reply.
* Isaiah, xxi 11, 12
Now in thy springtide blooming;
When wintry storms are glooming;
Through cloud and darkness, gleaming
Come, with the full-swollen tide
On free libations given
Sparkling and pure to heaven.
When noontide heats oppress thee, Low murmuring winds shall play, And springing waters bless thee.
But waste the strength of youth, Lavish its freshness on thine own wild pleasureGive to the world its fervid love and truth; And bitterly, in sorrow's lonely leisure, Thou'lt rue the gift and mourn the wasted treasure, In many a day of care,
And many a night of weeping; Vain wish, and hopeless prayer,
A thorny harvest reaping, For all the rich seed flung
On alien soil to perish. Oh! spirit, fair and young,
For God thy beauty cherish.
THE TWO CODES.
Words of wonder:
What was spoken Ushered by such dread portent? Lo, a code of wrath is sent;
This, if broken, Death of spotless lamb, alone, For the sinner might atone.
But to ease us
What was spoken, Ushered by such deeds of grace? Laws of mercy for our race,
Which, though broken,
He will lovingly forgive,
But when dying,
“IT IS I.”
WHAT though the clouds of life
Hang dark and low'ring,
Dangers be nigh-
Peace-" It is I."
Art thou in sorrow?
A loved one departed,
And the pride of thine eye;
Be not broken-hearted,
Peace, It is I.”
He loves whom he chastens,
To thy home in the sky;
Where no ill can harm thee,
ALICE M. W. )