To bring a helpless babe to light, To gaze upon that dearest sight, In its existence lose her own, And live and breathe in it alone; This is a mother's love. Its weakness in her arms to bear; Feed it from love's own fountain there, And lull it there to rest; Then while it slumbers watch its breath, To mark its growth from day to day, Catch from its eye the earliest ray To smile and listen while it talks, And can a mother's love grow cold? Ten thousand voices answer, "No!" Ye clasp your babes and kiss; The infant, rear'd alone for earth, A parent's heart may prove a snare; Even with a mother's love. Blest infant! whom his mother taught The day-spring of the word; Behold that mother's love.* Blest mother! who, in wisdom's path, By her own parent trod, Thus taught her son to flee the wrath, Ah! youth, like him enjoy your prime, Taught by that mother's love. That mother's love!-how sweet the name! -The noblest, purest, tenderest flame, Within a heart of earthly mould, As much of heaven as heart can hold, This was that mother's love. THE GLOW-WORM. The male of this insect is said to be a fly, which the female caterpillar attracts in the night by the lustre of her train. WHEN evening closes nature's eye, The glow-worm lights her little spark, To captivate her favourite fly, And tempt the rover through the dark. Conducted by a sweeter star Than all that deck the fields above, He fondly hastens from afar, To soothe her solitude with love. Thus in this wilderness of tears, Amidst the world's perplexing gloom, The transient torch of Hymen cheers The pilgrim journeying to the tomb. Unhappy he whose hopeless eye Turns to the light of love in vain; * 2 Tim. i. 5, and iii. 14, 15. |