not thus have sinned; but I hope my precious Redeemer will forgive me:

'Unto his everlasting home,

He bids repenting sinners come.'

"And let not your children, ye mothers who stand around my bed, let them not rise into the world without correction. If you would save their everlasting souls, fail not to enjoin the strictest obedience to the truth. Teach them the consequences of disobedience, and pray that the Holy Spirit, may enable you to bring up your dear babes, in the nurture and admonition of the Lord; and teach them, as their first lesson, to 'Remember their Creator in the days of their youth, while the evil days come not.'

Here, without a struggle, Jane sunk-her cold hand pressed her mother's-and her soul took its flight, to those realms of endless bliss, where the weary are at rest. May children who read these pages remember that, correction is salutary; and God's rod is often applied to save their souls from hell!' And may they with humility, learn also, to "Honour their father, and their mother, that their days may be long in the land."

THE EARLY ONE.

FAR o'er the vale the gloom spreads now-
That Winter's parting day puts on-
And o'er the Alpine's towering brow,
On misty wings is gone.

Cloud rolls on cloud, and torrents run,
Through all the fertile meads below;
And streams-once chain'd-have now begun
In ecstacy to flow.

Yet chilling gales are ling'ring round,
And bleak is still the naked heath;
And scarce a plant or leaf is found,

The boundless heav'ns beneath!

Why-why then, sing, O sacred lyre,
Of Nature's flowers, if none are near:
If groves-where reigns thy fond desire—
Are desolate and drear?

But 'tis not thus, to every eye,

Though days are short and cheerless too:
Yon path's adorned, and Flora's nigh,
To spread her charms anew.

There one- yes, one—is seen to shine,
So early on her snowy bed;

How purely fair and half divine,

Appears its spotless head!

Sweet early one! There speaks from thee Much to the heart of thinking man : Thou'rt emblem of our infancy,

When first our dawn began.

And when the tender life is fled,
That brought thee to our fields of snow-
When thy white petals all are dead-
Just like thee then-we go!

Yet farewell, early one, for soon
Thy charms will all be o'er;
Nature will bring her vernal boon,

And thou be seen no more!

THINGS DEPARTED.

GREEN leaves have departed,
And left the tall trees;

The dove's-broken-hearted—

Low moan fills the breeze,

Her nest is forsaken,

And she is alone,

And who shall awaken

The joys that are flown?

The year hath departed,

But what doth it speak?

The bright tear hath started—
Ah! flowed on the cheek:-
The smile hath been often,
In innocent pride,

Invited to soften

The grief at our side!

And beautiful flowers,

Along our pathway, Have gilded the hours, Soon wasting away; But now they no longer

Cheer up the lone soul,

For blasts, bleak and stronger, Along the vale roll.

Still-still is the fountain,

In frozen chains bound;

And hoary the mountain

Where pastures are found:

Creation doth slumber,
Amidst the chill scene;
And mournfully number

The days that have been!

Life's fled in deep sorrow,

And broken's the string,
Though hope told, to-morrow
Would happiness bring:
And though in youth's morning
New joys did appear,

Death seized without warning
The friend we loved dear.

Yes!-these have departed,
For nothing may stay,
Where sorrow hath darted
A gloom o'er our day;
Heaven only endureth,
And never will cease;
Blest he who procureth
Her favour and peace.

But wake, O my singing-
O Muse, tune thy song,
While Nature is bringing
The time swift along;