Little Graves

How many the httle graves and deep, And the shimng heads laid low, And the hearts that bleed and the oyes that weep, Unly God and the angels know. Sweet upturned faces and brows of snow, And ringlets of gold and brown, Dark starry eyes, and laughing blue, With their suovvy lids pressed dowu. White dimpled hands, forevermore still, Folded with loving care, No taint of earth, nor deed of ill Shall their stainless punty mar. Their childiah beauty, so pure and fair, Will know no wrinkled years, The little waxen feet, no snow, The ailcnt heart, no fears. Though we lay them in their lonely beds, 'Neath roses and violeta sweet, Their spirits pure to Jesus have fled, On pinions fair and fleet. And the Angels at the pearly Gates So joyously welcoine them in, For the spotless only they smilingly wait, That have never know a sin. Then the sweetest straius f rom the young hps flow And float on the perfumed air, The brightest joya of heaven they know, The fairest crowns they wear. 3h mourning ones whose hearts have bied, Your Saviour speaketh peace, [n tenderest tones he hath sweetly said, ( Of the kingdom are such as these." Mrs. M. M. W.