hy dear name--
    Pride to thy heart, and comfort to thy leisure
      By some good noble deeds, and worthy fame,
    Alas, how short we've come! When thou complaisant
      Looked on expectant for some virtuous act,
    How Self appeared like some fierce tigress couchant,
      And we with evil motive seemed impact!

    And thou art gone! Well do I remember
      Our childhood's days again--I'd live them o'er--
    When chilly blasts of sleeting, bleak December
      Kept us, long ev'nings, close within the door,
    We stories begged and then some Bible tale--
      Of David's valor, or Saul's treachery
    Of Moses meekness or Methus'lah hale--
      Of Abraham's faith or Esau's jealousy.

    Of Enoch's constancy in serving God,
      Of Joseph, sold a slave; of Egypt's kings,
    Of Pharaoh's plagues, and Moses' wond'rous rod,
      And of the Psalms which ev'ry Christian sings,
    Of John the Baptist, Christ the living Word
      Which was made flesh, and came and dwelt with men,
    Who was, and is, and shall be, God the Lord;
      Of His disciples, Holy ones, and then
    The Revelation, and the last Great Day,
      Each in its turn, in loving tones, was given
    And thus our mother thought to point the way
      With truthful finger, to the gates of Heaven;
    The great "Old Bible" then across her knee
      Was tender laid,--I see her sparkling eye,--
    With trem'lous voice she read the "Verily"
      And hushed, we listen'd, 'till no eye was dry.

    Then, kneeling, when the Word had well been read
      In very confidence she talked with God,
    And then with happy tears we went to bed,
      Now Mother lies beneath the silent sod!
    And thus, when father was away at toil
      In fact'ry's buzz, his cherished ones to keep,
    Giving his strength for them, in hot turmoil,
      We, his dear ones, were wrapped in blissful sleep.

    But she is gone! we've laid her down to rest
      In a soft bed of satin, white and pure
    We spread her o'er white rose buds on her breast,
      And bad