A THOUGHT OVER A CRADLE.

I SADDEN when thou smilest to my smile, Child of my love! I tremble to believe That o'er the mirror of that eye of blue The shadow of my heart will always pass ;— A heart that, from its struggle with the world, Comes nightly to thy guarded cradle home, And, careless of the staining dust it brings, Asks for its idol! Strange, that flowers of earth Are visited by every air that stirs,

And drink in sweetness only, while the child

That shuts within its breast a bloom for heaven,

May take a blemish from the breath of love,
And bear the blight for ever.

I have wept

With gladness at the gift of this fair child!
My life is bound up in her. But, oh God!
Thou know'st how heavily my heart at times
Bears its sweet burthen; and if Thou hast given
To nurture such as mine this spotless flower,

To bring it unpolluted unto thee,

God! who gavest

Into my guiding hand this wanderer,

To lead her through a world whose darkling paths

I tread with steps so faltering-leave not me

To bring her to the gates of heaven, alone!
I feel my feebleness. Let these stay on-
The angels who now visit her in dreams!
Bid them be near her pillow till in death
The closed eyes look upon Thy face once more!
And let the light and music, which the world
Borrows of heaven, and which her infant sense
Hails with sweet recognition, be to her
A voice to call her upward, and a lamp
To lead her steps unto Thee!

A THOUGHT OVER A CRADLE.

I SADDEN when thou smilest to my smile, Child of my love! I tremble to believe That o'er the mirror of that eye of blue The shadow of my heart will always pass ;A heart that, from its struggle with the world, Comes nightly to thy guarded cradle home, And, careless of the staining dust it brings, Asks for its idol! Strange, that flowers of earth Are visited by every air that stirs,

And drink in sweetness only, while the child
That shuts within its breast a bloom for heaven,

May take a blemish from the breath of love,
And bear the blight for ever.

I have wept

With gladness at the gift of this fair child!
My life is bound up in her. But, oh God!
Thou know'st how heavily my heart at times
Bears its sweet burthen; and if Thou hast given
To nurture such as mine this spotless flower,
To bring it unpolluted unto thee,

Take thou its love, I pray thee! Give it lightThough, following the sun, it turn from me!But, by the chord thus wrung, and by the light Shining about her, draw me to my child!

And link us close, oh God, when near to heaven!

REVERIE AT GLENMARY.

I HAVE enough, O God! My heart to-night
Runs over with its fulness of content;

And as I look out on the fragrant stars,
And from the beauty of the night take in
My priceless portion—yet myself no more
Than in the universe a grain of sand-
I feel His glory who could make a world,
Yet in the lost depths of the wilderness
Leave not a flower unfinish'd!

Rich, though poor!

My low-roof'd cottage is this hour a heaven.
Music is in it—and the song she sings,

That sweet-voiced wife of mine, arrests the ear
Of my young child awake upon her knee;
And with his calm eye on his master's face,
My noble hound lies couchant—and all here—
All in this little home, yet boundless heaven—
Are, in such love as I have power to give,
Blessed to overflowing.