'Tis sweet to watch thee in thy sleep, When thou, my boy, art dreaming ; 'Tis sweet o'er thee a watch to keep, To mark the smile that seems to creep O'er thee, like daylight, gleaming. 'Tis sweet to mark thy tranquil breast Heave, like a small wave flowing; To see thee take thy gentle rest, With nothing, save fatigue, oppress'd, And health on thy cheek glowing. To mark thee now, or when awake, Sad thoughts alas ! steal o'er me; For thou in time a part must take, That may thy fortunes mar or make, In the wide world before thee. But I, my child, have hopes of thes, And may they ne'er be blighted ! That I, years hence, may live to see Thy virtue well requited. Thy little mind to duty; In intellectual beauty. And then I'll strive to bring thee near To Him who children blesses : Beyond my fond caresses. And then, perhaps, when I am dead, And friends around me weeping, Thou'lt see me to my grave, and shod A tear upon my narrow bed, Where I shall then be sleeping. EPITAPH ON AN INTANT. The cup of life just with her lips she prest, Found the taste bitter, and declin'd the rest. Averse, then turning from the face of day, She softly sighed her little soul away. • HYMN For a Sunday School Anniversary. Though short our course,-how deep a sta On our young hearts appears.! Captives from birth, we drag a chain, Which lengthens with our years. Their work of death disclose; The foldings of the rose. Lull'd in delusive sleep; We smile whilst angels weep. From chains like these the soul ? Or where the consecrated wave Can cleanse from stain so foul ? Saviour, we look to thee; And thine is victory. |