The Snow-Drop | Page 6

bloom.
Just so the saints
that droop and die,
When Gabriel's trump shall rend the sky,
Will
leave the mould'ring tomb.
They'll leave this dull, this earthly sod,
And, in the garden of our God,

Bloom with celestial grace,
Where frost and mildew ne'er can
blight;
There, all enraptured with delight,
God's wondrous works
they'll trace.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 2: The Rose and Lilac trees, referred to above, were planted

by two youthful sisters a short time before their death.]
LINES
Composed on the death of Mrs. Mary M. West, of Jay.
Dear Mary, while thou art in heaven, at rest,
We're mourning thy
absence, bereft and depressed;
For thou wert so faithful, so winning
and kind,
That our hearts' ev'ry fibre around thee entwined.
How oft have we listened, unwilling to part,
While sweet heavenly
music gushed forth from thy heart,
Till angels in glory, well pleased
with the strain,
Re-echoed it over the heavenly plain.
The sound of thy voice we can never forget,
Thy last parting smile
sweetly lingers here yet;
And since thy freed spirit to heaven was
borne,
Our hearts crave the boon o'er thy mem'ry to mourn.
Adieu, dearest Mary, thy spirit has flown
To those blissful regions
where tears are unknown;
No trials assail thee, no troubles or fears,--

The smile of thy Savior has dried up thy tears.
No more shalt thou weep o'er thy dear Henry,[3] dead--
For now by
his side thou art resting thy head;
Thou now dost behold him in glory
above.
But Jesus, thy Savior, outvies him in love.
Transported with joy, with thy Savior at rest,
Though angels are
singing, you'll praise him the best.
Bright glories, unfolding, still
burst on thy view--
The song thou art chanting will ever be new.
Thy sun at its zenith on earth ceased to shine,
But beams with new
lustre in regions divine;
For ages eternal 't will ever shine on--
Still
gath'ring new splendor from God's dazzling throne.
FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 3: Husband of Mrs. W.]
THOUGHTS
Occasioned by the sudden death of J.W.N.
The short lived, fragrant, vernal flower,
Which blooms and withers in
an hour,
With him may well compare;
His life was like the meteor's
light,
Which shone and vanished from the sight--
Dissolving in the
air.
Not so the thrilling ties that bind
The loved one's image to the mind--

It lives and brightens there;
Engraved upon each bleeding heart,

Which cannot, will not, deign to part
With such a jewel rare.
REFLECTIONS
OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF S. WHITE, OF
LIVERMORE,
WHO DIED DEC. 25TH, 1842, AGED 26.
Why do these tears bedew our eyes?
Why heaves the breast with
bursting sighs?
We've seen a friend depart;
In vain we tune our harp
and sing,
We cannot touch that thrilling string,
Which vibrates in
the heart.
Engaging, graceful and refined,
Frank, open, generous and kind,

Was our departed friend;
His mental powers were deep and clear,--

His ardent friendship, most sincere,
With life alone could end.
His heart could feel for others' woe--
How oft his footsteps, soft and
low,
Fell on the suff'rer's ear!
Each word he spake, their grief to
quell,
Seemed waters gushing from a well,
Whose fount was deep
and clear.
In early years he mourned for sin,
And prayed for garments white and
clean,
Washed in the Savior's blood.
He journeyed on for many

years,
Amidst temptations, doubts, and fears,
But found a pard'ning
God.
His lustrous eyes are dim in death,
His voice passed like the zephyr's
breath,
That heart has lost its lone;
But while we weep around his
dust,
That soul its prison doors hath burst,
And worships 'round the
throne.
But shall we murmur and complain?
Shall our warm tears descend
like rain
Around his early grave?
While kindred dear must weep
and mourn,
More sacred tears bedew his urn
Than ever friendship
gave.
That brother, who with him has played
Beside the brook, or in the
shade
Where feathered warblers sang,
And sported by the river side,

Or o'er the ice taught him to glide,
While merry laughter rang--
His love increased with growing years,
One were their hopes, their
joys, their fears,
Their Savior, too, was one.
That brother's grief
must be severe,
Yet from his lips we hope to hear,
"My Father's will
be done."
Like ivy, round some youthful pine,
Did Julia's warm affections
twine
Round his fraternal heart;
Through adverse scenes they
struggled long,
Which rendered nature's ties more strong,
But they,
alas! must part.
Should fell disease assail her now,
Place his pale signet on her brow,

And chill her heart with fear;
No more he'd stand beside her bed,--

Bathe her parched lips, and aching head,
And strive her mind to
cheer.
She'll range the paths where they have strayed,
And wander through
the silent shade,
And ask, "is brother here?"
She'll view the grave,
and that will say
There's naught within but mould'ring clay,
No

more will he appear.
That sister, who hath sought a friend
To share her grief till time shall
end,
Must still in tears be drowned;
Although a partner soothes her
grief,
And kindly strives to give relief,
And children cluster
round;--
She sees their glossy ringlets flow,
In clusters o'er each little brow;

They speak of days gone by,
When she with brother often strayed,

O'er hill and dale and flow'ry glade,
Where golden sunbeams lie.
A fair young friend, whose aching