For he was thin and pale, drooping and weak, But round his feeble body fondly threw Her clasping arms, and held him to her heart. he watched him in his sleep; with fingers light ressing his little hands, or his thick hair 'arting from his white brow with tender care: nd every night, within his hand, she placed bead from off the rosary at her waist. But still the child grew thinner and more pale, And restless were his slumbers; and quick sighs, As if a wearying pain did him assail, Fluttered his breath with dreamy agonies; And his pale, drooping mother by him prayed That God would ease his pain, and be his aid. The last bead had been given the night before, And the rich crucifix to her lips was prest One morn, when Maffei oped the chamber door, And saw the dead child laid upon her breast: She too was dead-and Maffei down the stair Rushed like a maniac; and the menials said, So terrible his gestures and his air, That he had seen more than the silent dead. Linking him to life; and year on year passed by, Such is the history of that haunted room, HYMN. [TOPLADY.] INSPIRER and hearer of prayer, Thy minist'ring spirits descend Bright seraphs dispatch'd from the throne, Thy worship no interval knows, Their chorus for ever shall join, And love, and adore, without end, HYMN. [NOEL.] WHEN musing sorrow weeps the past, 'Tis not that murmuring thoughts arise, And dread a Father's will; "Tis not that meek submission flies, And would not suffer still. It is that heaven-taught faith surveys, It is that hope with ardour glows, Whose dying love no language knows It is that harass'd conscience feels Oh! let me wing my hallowed flight SUNDAY MORNING. [REV. R. MANT.] WELCOME thou peaceful dawn! The wonted sound of busy toil is laid. And hark! the village bell! Whose simple tinklings swell, Sweet as soft music, on the straw-roof'd shed, And bid the pious cottager prepare To keep the appointed rest, and seek the house of pray'r. How goodly 'tis to see The rustic family Duly along the church-way path repair: The mother trim and plain Leading her ruddy train, The father pacing slow with modest air. With honest heart and humble guise they come, To serve Almighty God, and bear his blessing home. At home they gaily share Their sweet and simple fare, And thank the Giver of the festal board; Around the blazing hearth They sit in harmless mirth, Or turn with awe the volume of the Lord : Then full of heav'nly joy retiring pay Their sacrifice of pray'r to HIM who bless'd the day. O Sabbath bell, thy voice Makes hearts like these rejoice; Not so the child of vanity and pow'r : He the best pavement treads Perchance as custom bids, Perchance to gaze away a listless hour; Then crowns the bowl, or scours along the road, When the seventh morning's gleam Purpled the lonely stream, On its green bank of old the Christian bow'd; The hand adoring spread, And broke the mystic bread; And leagu'd in bonds of holy concord, vow'd From the cleans'd heart to wash each foul offence, In vain the Roman lord Way'd the relentless sword, And spread the terrors of the circling flame; If chance some lurking spot Might mar the lustre of the Christian name; Th' Eternal Spirit, by his fruits confess'd, In life secur'd from stain, and steel'd in death the breast. |