Sweet smiles, in the night
Hover over my delight!
Sweet smiles, mother's smile,
All the livelong night beguile.

Sweet moans, dovelike sighs,
Chase not slumber from thine eyes!
Sweet moan, sweeter smile,
All the dovelike moans beguile

Sleep, sleep, happy child!

All creation slept and smiled.

Sleep, sleep, happy sleep,

While o'er thee doth mother weep.

Sweet babe, in thy face

Holy image I can trace;

Sweet babe, once like thee

Thy Maker lay, and wept for me:

Wept for me, for thee, for all,

When He was an infant small.

Thou His image ever see,

Heavenly face that smiles on thee!

Smiles on thee, on me, on all,
Who became an infant small;
Infant smiles are His own smiles :
Heaven and earth to peace beguiles.

THE DIVINE IMAGE.

To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,

All pray in their distress,

And to these virtues of delight
Return their thankfulness.

For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
Is God our Father dear;
And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
Is man, his child and care.

For Mercy has a human heart;

Pity, a human face;

And Love, the human form divine;

And Peace, the human dress.

Then every man, of every clime,
That prays in his distress,
Prays to the human form divine:
Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace.

And all must love the human form,
In heathen, Turk, or Jew.

Where Mercy, Love, and Pity dwell,

There God is dwelling too.

'TWAS

HOLY THURSDAY.

WAS on a Holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean,

Came children walking two and two, in red, and blue, and green :

Grey-headed beadles walked before, with wands as

white as snow,

Till into the high dome of Paul's they like Thames waters flow.

Oh what a multitude they seemed, these flowers of London town!

Seated in companies they sit, with radiance all

their own.

The hum of multitudes was there, but multitudes of

lambs,

Thousands of little boys and girls raising their innocent hands.

Now like a mighty wind they raise to heaven the voice of song,

Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of heaven among :

Beneath them sit the aged men, wise guardians of

the poor.

Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door.

K

THE

NIGHT.

HE sun descending in the west,
The evening star does shine

The birds are silent in their nest,

And I must seek for mine.

The moon like a flower

In heaven's high bower,

With silent delight,

Sits and smiles on the night.

Farewell, green fields and happy grove,
Where flocks have ta'en delight.

Where lambs have nibbled, silent move
The feet of angels bright ;
Unseen, they pour blessing,
And joy without ceasing,
On each bud and blossom,
And each sleeping bosom.

They look in every thoughtless nest
Where birds are covered warm;