A PARENT'S PRAYER.

SEND down thy winged Angel, God!
Amidst this night so wild,

And bid him come where now we watch,
And breathe upon our child.

She lies upon her pillow, pale,
And moans within her sleep,
Or wakeneth with a patient smile,
And striveth not to weep!

How gentle and how good a child
She is, we know too well,
And dearer to her parents' hearts
Than our weak words can tell.

We love we watch throughout the night,
To aid, when need may be ;

We hope and have despair'd at times,

But now we turn to Thee.

Send down thy sweet-soul'd Angel, God!

Amidst the darkness wild,

And bid him soothe our souls to-night,
And heal our gentle child!

Barry Cornwall.

THE TWO ANGELS.

The dawn was on their faces, and beneath,

The sombre houses hearsed with plumes of smoke.

Their attitude and aspect were the same,

Alike their features and their robes of white; But one was crown'd with amaranth, as with flame, And one with asphodels, like flakes of light.

I saw them pause on their celestial way;

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Then said I, with deep fear and doubt oppress'd:

But not so loud, my heart, lest thou betray

The place where thy beloved are at rest!"

And he who wore the crown of asphodels,
Descending, at my door began to knock,
And my soul sank within me, as in wells
The waters sink before an earthquake's shock.

I recognised the nameless agony,

The terror, and the tremor, and the pain,

That oft before had fill'd and haunted me,

And now return'd with threefold strength again.

The door I open'd to my heavenly guest,

And listen'd, for I thought I heard God's voice; And, knowing whatsoe'er He sent was best,

Dared neither to lament nor to rejoice.

Then with a smile, that fill'd the house with light, "My errand is not Death, but Life," he said; And ere I answer'd, passing out of sight,

On his celestial embassy he sped.

'Twas at thy door, O friend! and not at mine,

The angel with the amaranthine wreath

Pausing descended, and with voice divine,
Whisper'd a word that had a sound like Death.

THE TWO ANGELS.

Then fell upon the house a sudden gloom,
A shadow on those features fair and thin ;
And softly, from that hush'd and darken'd room,
Two angels issued, where but one went in.

All is of God! if He but wave his hand

The mists collect, the rain falls thick and loud, Till with a smile of light on sea and land,

Lo! He looks back from the departing cloud.

Angels of Life and Death alike are His;

Without His leave they pass no threshold o'er; Who, then, would wish or dare, believing this, Against His messengers to shut the door?

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

A MOTHER TO HER NEW-BORN CHILD.

SWEET cry! as sacred as the blessed Hymn
Sung at Christ's birth by joyful Seraphim!
Exhausted nigh to death by that dread pain,
That voice salutes me to dear life again.
Ah, God! my child! my first, my living child!
I have been dreaming of a thing like thee
Ere since, a babe, upon the mountains wild
I nursed my mimic babe upon my knee.
In girlhood I had visions of thee; love
Came to my riper youth, and still I clove

A MOTHER TO HER NEW-BORN CHILD.

Unto thine image, born within my brain

So like! as even there thy germ had lain!

My blood! my voice! my thought! my dream achieved! Oh, till this double life, I have not lived!

WHEN LAST WE PARTED.

Thomas Wade.

WHEN last we parted, thou wert young and fair,
How beautiful, let fond remembrance say!
Alas! since then old Time has stolen away

Full thirty years, leaving my temples bare:

So hath it perished like a thing of air

That dream of love and youth. My locks are grey,

Yet still remembering Hope's enchanting lay,

Though Time has changed my look and blanch'd my hair.

Though I remember one dark hour with pain,

And never thought as long as I might live,

Parted for years, to hear that voice again,

I can a sad but cordial greeting give,

And for thy welfare breathe as warm a prayer,
Lady! as when I loved thee young and fair.

William Lisle Bowles.