The golden sun looks gladly down
    Upon the vari’gated earth;
  Encouraged by his genial rays,
    Her garner’d treasures have their birth.

  But though the face of earth is fair,
    Chance and change are busy here;
  And her rugg’d, chequer’d path,
    Is water’d oft by sorrow’s tear.

  Her bosom holds our treasured dead,
    The lov’d who in our pathway trod: 
  Whose place is found on earth no more,
    But the freed spirit’s soar’d to God.

  When ling’ring in the place of graves,
    Came there no voice from out the tomb,
  Whisp’ring to thy spirit’s ear,
    “Mother, when will the morning come?”

  “O mother, yes, it soon will come,
    The glorious resurrection morn,
  When Christ shall wake the sleeping dead,
    And an immortal day shall dawn.”

  And though your path may lead you forth
    From early friends far, far away;
  Far from your darling children’s graves,
    Jacob’s God shall be your stay.

  Your chasten’d soul from sorrow’s cup,
    Has often drank the bitter draught;
  But ere the portion was consumed,
    A mingled sweet thy spirit quaff’d.

  Sister in Christ, God be thy stay,
    And lead as He has led before;
  And keep thee “in the narrow way,”
    Where pleasures dwell for ever more.

  Perchance we may not meet again
    While ling’ring in this vale of tears;
  But mem’ry casts a hallow’d spell
    Over the scenes of other years.

  And treasur’d in her secret cells,
    My much loved friend, are thoughts of thee;
  And if we meet no more on earth,
    I feel thou’lt sometimes think of me.

  Now fare thee well, sweet sister dear,
    God speed thy bark o’er life’s dark sea;
  Safe moor it in the port of peace,
    Thy pilot, friend, and helper be.

The Mother’s Watch.

  O, no, he will not come to-night,—­
    The stars are fading from the sky;
  I’ve watch’d their dim, expiring light,
    With an unwearied, earnest eye,

  And soon the golden king of day
    Morn’s eastern gates will open wide;
  And mounted on his fiery car,
    Triumphant over earth will ride.

  And she array’d in robes of green,
    Adorned with vari’gated flowers,
  Will welcome him with smiling mien,
    While soft winds sigh along the bowers.

  He’ll kiss the roses on her cheek,
    And dry the tear-drop from her eye,—­
  Cast a glad smile o’er all her face,
    And gild each stream that glances by.

  And she’ll spread out her tempting store
    Of fruits and flow’ers, to his warm ray;
  He’ll touch them with his genial smile,
    As glad he runs his joyous way.

  But soon his journey will be o’er,
    And the dun curtains of the west,
  Will hide his beams, while low he sinks
    Upon the pillow of his rest.