NEW ZEALAND'S LAMENT FOR HER

BISHOP.

MOURN now, and weep, New Zealand,—he is gone; He whose high intellect and noble heart

Have won, for his dear name, the reverence,

The deep and earnest love, of every heart

Throughout the length and breadth of this our land; He of the bold, undaunted spirit; he

Who ever hath stood foremost in the ranks

Of those true servants of our heavenly King,

The noble band who have left home and country,
To do their Lord's work in an unknown land,
Among a heathen people, and have counted
All suffering but joy, so they might win

Some souls to God, and spread the glorious light
Of gospel peace through the dark wilderness.
Such the great work to which

He hath devoted life, with all his strength,
And all his energies of soul and body.
Nor in this land alone, for he hath borne

E'en to the far-off islands of the sea,

The joyful tidings of a Saviour's love,

That they too might rejoice. With his own hand He sowed the seed, laid the foundation-stone, And then he sent forth one, him whom he loved

And trusted e'en as his own son, and one

All worthy of such love and confidence,

To finish the great work.

Father in God!—well named; such hast thou been,
True father, faithful shepherd of the flock
Committed to thy care. This hast thou been
To all, and this it is hath won for thee,
Where'er thy name is heard, o'er hill and valley,
In lonely forest homes, or 'mid the throng
Of crowded cities, wheresoe'er thy foot
Hath trod, and left a blessing in its path,

The love and reverence all men needs must yield
To spirits such as thine: for this thy name
Shall live for ever in New Zealand's annals.
This hast thou been to all-then what to us,—
Us, who have known thee as the loving friend,
The faithful monitor, the gentle guide,
The sympathiser in our joys and griefs,—
To us, whose hearts' best love will ever be
Entwined around thy cherished memory ?--
But thou art gone-thy God hath called thee hence
Unto a distant land, and we shall see
Thy face no more.-Who now shall fill thy place?
Or hers, who, through so many years, hath shared

With heart and soul in this thy noble mission,
And been to all our hearts a gentle spirit
Of ministering love?-None e'er can fill
Their vacant places, and we needs must weep.
Yet grieve we not as those who have no hope,
For though their faces we may ne'er behold
Again on earth, we yet may meet again

Where we shall part no more, where we shall look
On those dear faces, bright and glorified,
Radiant with that pure light that issues from
The throne of God. Then, in that joyful hope,
Awhile we stay our tears, and pray that Thou,
God of our fathers, Thou whose loving hand
Thus far hath led them on life's rugged path,

And thus far blessed their work, wilt still be with them,

Still lead them in the new and distant work

To which Thy voice hath called them. Pour upon them Abundantly thy best and choicest blessings.

And Father, for their sakes, and for the glory

Of Thine own name, oh prosper Thou the work

That they have here begun. God speed them well,

And waft them swiftly, safely, on their way

Unto their native land;-and for ourselves,

May He enable us to wait in hope,

Till we shall see them in their glorious home,

Where, "all the righteous, in their Father's kingdom,
Shall shine forth as the sun for evermore."

Oct. 20th, 1868.

K

TO A DEAD CHILD.

FAIR little waxen image, so still and calm and pale,
To breast Earth's storms thy little bark of life was all too

frail.

Not long wert doomed to struggle with tempest, or cruel

storm,

And I cannot wish thee back, as I gaze on that little peaceful form.

Thy little spirit, tremblingly, fled from its life-bark frail, As though too well it knew it could not breast the wintry

gale;

But nothing recks it now, though the wind and waters

roar,

As all peacefully it lieth here, stranded on Death's dark shore.

With

weary

flight,

hearts and spirits, we watch thy heavenward

And fain would stretch our wings and fly with thee to realms of light;

But still 'mid the waves we battle, our voyage is not o'er,

Nor yet cease we from toil, to rest upon the eternal shore.

In weariness and darkness we still must struggle on, Though the world to us is doubly dark, sweet child, since

thou art gone ;

Though our hearts are sick with longing that childish voice to hear,

And to feel the clasp of the little hand that ever was so dear.

Yet oh, sleep on, my darling, I would not wake thee now, Nor dim, e'en by one selfish tear, the brightness of that

brow;

I would not call thee back to Earth, I would not if I

might;

Thy gentle soul, for this dark world, was all too pure and

bright.

Fair little waxen image, calmly on thee I gaze,

For "the light of immortal beauty" beameth on that young face;

As though it had caught, from the spirit, as it sped on its upward flight,

A gleam of celestial glory, a ray of the heavenly light.