II.—MERCY’S DREAM. Like thee to dream, by angel-wings unshaded! The starry crown hangs o’er thy meek young head, Flinging a glory round thee, like the braided And brilliant tints by a rich sunset shed. O loveliest vision of the painter’s thought— Born in his happiest hour of inspiration, How more than fair the exquisite creation His genius-gifted pencil here hath wrought! How wondrously is charmed the “Pilgrim” story That made my childhood’s ever new delight: Sweet Mercy! _now_, in tenderest grace and glory, Thy pale, bright picture floats before my sight. Thrice blesséd! and thrice beautiful! might _we_ But in _our_ dreams some guardian-angel see! III.—THE MARYS AT THE SEPULCHRE. The first faint crimson of the early morning Dawned on the tomb where the loved Master lay; And on the Marys, who for His adorning Came bearing spices sweet, at break of day. In meek, mute reverence, near the sepulchre The mourners drew, as round a sacred shrine— And gazing down for the dear form divine— The unsealed stone—the white-robed messenger— Met their affrighted view! In awe they fled, And she, the Magdalen! the tidings spread, “Christ is arisen!” O, woman! in that hour Well might a solemn rapture fill thy mind— Thou, earth’s poor outcast, honored with high power To bear such joyful tidings to mankind. IV.—PIETY. Meek list’ner! on whose purely virgin brow Is set the beauty of submissive thought: Oh! blest beyond Earth’s favored ones art thou, Whose earnest eyes so reverently caught The Teacher’s look, with mild, grave wisdom fraught. How was the awakened soul within thee stirred To suppliant or adoring tones, as fell The quickening power of the Eternal Word, Like the winged seed, on thy young heart; to dwell A germ not lost! A heavenly light serene, Unclouded, sits on thy soft, spiritual mien— I call thee Blest, for thou hast chosen well, Daughter of Christ! O, happy to have given The bloom of thy unblighted years to Heaven! V.—FOLLY.