JEPHTHA'S DAUGHTER.

(JUDGES, Xi. 40.)

O COME, ye maids of Judah! come
Again to raise the wail of sorrow
For her who, late, in beauty's bloom,
Rose like a flower to greet the morrow :
For her who oft awoke at eve

The song that love and gladness taught her,
Where bosoms now are left to grieve
The early fate of Jephtha's daughter.

Her timbrel, that with pleasure teemed,
Hath stilled its last and fatal quaver;
Her voice, that like an angel's seemed,
Hath passed away-and passed for ever.
Her lover from the strife may come,
Arrayed in all the spoils of slaughter,
But shall not hear, beside her home,
The welcome song of Jephtha's daughter.

Go bring the dew of Hermon's hill,

That falls when evening clouds are weeping, Pure as that heart whose pulse is still,

Whose wildest throbs are calmly sleeping:

Go bring the rose of Sharon's plain,

And round her shrine its blossoms scatterSweet flower! that dies to live again,

In emblem meet of Jephtha's daughter.

PARENTS.

(EXODUS, XX. 12.)

THE voice of nature, yea, the voice of God, Commands to honour those that gave us birthEven her, from whose supporting bosom flowed By far the sweetest stream that flows on earth; Whose tongue of kindness never knew a dearth Of soothing words that could our griefs allayEven him who listened to our prattling mirth, Who early taught our infant lips to pray,

And led our tottering steps to walk in wisdom's way.

A parent is indeed a tender friend,

And, if once lost, we never more shall find

A bosom that so tremblingly can blend

Its feelings with our own congenial mind; Our lips may speak their anguish to the wind That hurries heedlessly and wildly by

Our hearts, to lonely agony consigned,

May throb without relief-for no reply

Comes from the mouldering breasts that in their gravebed lie.

And then we pause to think-alas! how late!—
Of deeds that wrung a parent's heart with pain;
And, oh! could we but open death's dark gate,
And lead them back into the world again-
Oh! but once more to see their face!-'tis vain!
Once more to hear their voice!-'tis sweetly driven
Across our fancy, and expires-and then

We wish ourselves away, away to heaven,

To weep upon their breast, and there to be forgiven.

RUTH.

(RUTH, i. 16, 17.)

On! canst thou bid me part from thee?
And canst thou leave thy daughter Ruth?
The babe that smiled upon thy knee
Became the husband of my youth-
Our tears have mingled on the sod
That wraps him in his dark abode.

He is a magic link, that binds

Our hearts and griefs where'er we go-
He was the idol of our minds,

He is the subject of our wo;
And less I mourn while I can claim
Naomi for a mother's name.

Although no future babe be fed

By that dear breast on which he hungAlthough I press a widowed bed

Till limbs are old that now are young:

Yet, mother! I shall ever be

Thy child-for thou hast none but me.

And where thou goest I will go,

And where thou dwellest I will dwell;

Together shall we toil below,

Together bid the world farewell.

The same be our funereal sod,
The same our people, and our God.

THE FIELD OF GILBOA.

(2 SAMUEL, Xxxi.)

THE sun of the morning looked forth from his throne, And beamed on the face of the dead and the dying : For the yell of the strife like the thunder had flown, And red on Gilboa the carnage was lying.

And there lay the husband that lately was pressed

To the beautiful cheek that was tearless and ruddyNow the claws of the vulture were fixed in his breast, And the beak of the vulture was busy and bloody.

And there lay the son of the widowed and sad,

Who yesterday went from her dwelling for everNow the wolf of the hills a sweet carnival had

On the delicate limb that had ceased not to quiver.

And there came the daughter, the desolate child,
To hold up the head that was breathless and hoary;
And there came the maiden, all frantic and wild,
To kiss the loved lips that were gasping and gory.

And there came the consort, that struggled in vain To stem the red tide of a spouse that bereft her; And there came the mother, that sunk mid the slain, To weep o'er the last human stay that was left her.

O bloody Gilboa! a curse ever lie

Where the king and his people were slaughtered together!

May the dew and the rain leave thy herbage to die,

Thy flocks to decay, and thy forests to wither!

L

FAMILY HARMONY.

(PSALM CXxxiii.)

O SWEET as vernal dews that fill
The closing buds on Zion's hill,
When evening clouds draw thither,
It is for human hearts to see
The members of one family
Live peacefully together.

The children like the lily flowers,
On which descend the suns and showers,
Their hues of beauty blending-
The parents like the gopher boughs,
On which the foliage thickly grows,
Their friendly shade extending.

But leaves the greenest will decay,
And flowers the brightest pass away,
When autumn winds are sweeping;

And be the household e'er so fair,
The hand of death shall soon be there,
And turn the scene to weeping.

Yet leaves again will clothe the trees,
And lilies wave them in the breeze,

When spring comes smiling bither;
And friends that parted at the tomb,
Shall yet renew their loveliest bloom,
And meet in heaven together.