TO ONE IN HEAVEN.

SWEET Sister, 'tis the hush of night!
The round, full moon, shines radiantly;
And that one star is beaming bright,

That ever best was loved by thee.
The world around, so calm, so still,

Seems but to breathe of peace divine; Oh! on such night how memory will Go back to thee, sweet Sister mine!

For like that star, serenely bright,
And radiant as yon silvery moon,
Sister! was thy young morning's light—
The light without the glare of noon!
And calm as is this summer scene,
And gentle as this holy eve,
Was all that lay of life between

Thy cradle and thy early grave!

I sit me down, and call to mind

Thy quiet walk, thy gentle ways, Till heart is full, and eyes are blind,

So much I think to love and praise: How oft, before thy guileless art

And light caress, my cares have flown; Now, thou art gone!-and this sad heart Must learn to bear its griefs alone!

True, 'tis not yet of all bereft

Light lingers still when day is gone; And I have many a loved one left,

But oh! not now the favourite one! And as the soul, by anguish press'd, Will, in its joy e'en, sorrow see,— So Sister, though with these still bless'd My spirit will yearn after thee!

TEARS FOR THE DEAD.

DEPARTED One!-upon thy bier

No flowers of vain regret we strew; But joy thou canst no longer here,

Sorrow, and pain, and anguish know. Oh! not for thee should tears be shed, To dim the pinion, pure and bright, Of the redeemed spirit, spread Rejoicing for its upward flight.

Yet tears were shed when thou didst die, And loving hearts were bathed in wo; And dimm'd was many a manly eye, When thy fair form was stricken low.

If love devoted might retain

Its idol ever by its side

Redeem from death those dear-oh! then,

Beloved one, thou hadst not died!

If tears availed to wake the dead

If grief might call the lost-loved back— For thee were tears unnumbered shed,

Our sighs were wafted on thy track: Yet no!-In sorrow for our loss

Should we forget thy glorious gain? Oh! what might tempt thy steps to cross Again life's dark and toilsome main?

Should tears be shed for thee! who now,
In yon far Heaven of glory bright,
Art bathing thy celestial brow,

In floods of pure and liquid light?—
With the angelic host enrolled,

And sharing in their bless'd employ—
Who tune their harps of shining gold
To everlasting songs of joy!

In that bless'd world no tears can dim
The glory of the ransomed soul;
But joyous song of Seraphim

Through all undying ages roll.

Then should we mourn that thou art gone

From world like ours, where griefs abound,

To prove the brightness of that dawn,

Where never dark'ning cloud is found?

No! loved one, no!-upon thy bier

No tears of vain regret be shed;

We joy thou art no longer here,

With life's dark snares encompassed ;— That, with the loved of God, on high, Thou dwellest in eternal day,

Where tears are wiped from every eye, And grief and sighing flee away