THE LENT JEWELS.

IN schools of wisdom all the day was spent:
His steps at eve the Rabbi homeward bent,
With homeward thoughts which dwelt upon the

wife

And two fair children who consoled his life.
She, meeting at the threshold, led him in,
And, with these words preventing, did begin:-

"Ever rejoicing at your wished return,
Yet am I most so now; for since this morn
I have been much perplexed and sorely tried
Upon one point which you shall now decide.
Some years ago, a friend into my care

Some jewels gave - rich, precious gems they

were;

But having given them in my charge, this friend
Did afterward nor come for them, nor send,
But left them in my keeping for so long,
That now it almost seems to me a wrong
That he should suddenly arrive to-day,
To take those jewels, which he left, away.
What think you? Shall I freely yield them

back,

And with no murmuring, - so henceforth to lack Those gems myself, which I had learned to see Almost as mine forever, mine in fee?"

"What question can be here? Your own true heart

Must needs advise you of the only part:
That may be claimed again which was but lent,
And should be yielded with no discontent.
Nor surely can we find herein a wrong,

That it was left us to enjoy so long."

"Good is the word," she answered; "may we

now

And ever more that it is good allow!"

And, rising, to an inner chamber led,

And there she showed him, stretched upon one

bed,

Two children pale! and he the jewels knew, Which God had lent him, and resumed anew.

R. C. TRENCH.

AN INFANT'S EPIΤΑΡΗ.

BENEATH this stone an infant lies,
To earth her body 's lent:
More glorious she'll hereafter rise,
Though not more innocent.

When the archangel's trump shall blow,
And souls to bodies join,

Millions will wish their lives below

Had been as short as thine.

O MOURN NOT, FOND MOTHER.

MOURN not, fond mother, the joys that depart,

There is comfort and peace for the stricken in heart;

God has taken the spirit that basked in thy love, "The beautiful angels" have borne it above.

The plant that you reared to smile on earth's gloom,

Has fastened its roots in the soil of the tomb ;
It smiled in your garden, so bright and so fair,
It has climbed o'er the wall, and is blossoming

there.

The gem that you wore with pride on your breast,

Adorns with its light the land of the blest;

The rose still is fragrant, though broke from the

stem,

The setting is ruined, but safe is the gem.

Then gird thee to labor, to trial and love,
The treasure once thine shall await thee above;
Be faithful, be earnest, night soon will be riven,
And the lost ones of earth, be thy jewels in
heaven.

REV. S. F. SMITH.

THE TENANTLESS LITTLE BED.

My little one, my sweet one,
Thy couch is empty now,
Where oft I wiped the dews away
Which gathered on thy brow.
No more, amidst the sleepless night,
I smooth thy pillow fair;
'T is smooth indeed, but rest no more
Thy small, pale features there.

My little one, my sweet one,

Thou canst not come to me, But nearer draws the numbered hour When I shall go to thee; And thou, perchance, with seraph smile And golden harp in hand, May'st come the first to welcome me To our Immanuel's land.

HE SLEPT.

They said he died; - it seems to me
That, after hours of pain and strife,

He slept, one even, peacefully,
And woke to everlasting life.

TO AN INFANT IN HEAVEN.

THOU bright and star-like spirit!
That, in my visions wild,
I see mid heaven's seraphic host-
O! canst thou be my child?

My grief is quenched in wonder,
And pride arrests my sighs;
A branch from this unworthy stock
Now blossoms in the skies.

Our hopes of thee were lofty,

But have we cause to grieve?
O! could our fondest, proudest wish
A nobler fate conceive?

The little weeper, tearless,

The sinner, snatched from sin; The babe, to more than manhood grown, Ere childhood did begin.

And I, thy earthly teacher,
Would blush thy powers to see ;

Thou art to me a parent now,
And I a child to thee!