Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1853-03-09
98HDAY READING,


BABES OF IIEAvES-Ihere are some
infants who seem destined for Heaven from
their birth. Over these the mother NAV
smile, and weep, and watch the fragile beauty
of cheek and brow il vain.
Old and learned doctors NAV stand beside
their little couches, and count the quick beat
ing pulse they cannot stay the steady foot
steps of death-they cannot wave him back,
that angel warden Of Heaven. Something
is written in the blue eyes. the gentle smile,
that mortals may never interpret. for them
the tiny headstoues stand in inches, fresh
from the 'gravers hands. For them the lit
tie marble urns are already sculptured. and
sweet spots in burial grounds lie waiting
Hug it ever SO closely to the fond bosom,
the favored immortal is ever in the hands of
the angels and they will claim it.
| have known a few such children. ]
remember, as ! write, a sweet sister, who
came when the bird pipes his first May song.
For fifteen bright months she was spared to
the earth, but all who saw her gave omin-
Gus shakes of the head, and some even with
: tears, She will die
OF all infant singers, none heard | ever
sing like her. From morning till night, from
her twelfth month, her Clear sweet voice rang
through the house. And she was neither
{ taught this, nor paraded for her gift-but
friend coming IN would be sure to hear 'OlC
. Hundred from the singing lips Of a BABE
who might be clinging to the chairs in he
6rsthappy essay to walk. China and many
ancient melodies, were as household words
to that little creature-and every day a
! twilight, till nearly the day she died, sh,
: would sing herself to sleep, lisping those. oil
words:
"Life is the time to serve the Lord"
Precious angel! her life was holy service
, How happy she has been these long years
up there-singing.
| had another little sister, who died q
the same age. l remember a still, beaut
ful night, when | sat watching that swee
n face-the pale hands, the laboring chest
Her mother wcaried out, had fallen into
10 slight slunbcr.
h. suddenly, in that dying hour, the o.
10 tune of Sweet Home rang out, clear, swee
- distinct. How can | describe the feelin
81 that thrilled my veins, when looking at Il
r. little lips, raie and trembling, l saw the
i'll moving to the cadence Of that cherishe
be melody. There laid a babe, scarce a ye
Il. old, disease upon her, her temples whitenir
he III death singing in a triumphal strain wi
Il failing breath. N. language can tell he
II indescrioably beautiful, yet how awful W
we the scene. She sang through the last no
n and her fragile form sank backward.
"A In the morning they were laying light
oo' and tenderIy on her limbs the burial shro,
| heard lately a little story, which for
thos could not be exeelled.
,rL A beautiful infant had been taught to 81
an land it could say littlo eIse,) God "
take care of baby
10 1t was seized with sickness, and at a til
i when both parents were hardly convaleSct
mn from a severe illness. Every day it or
~ worse, and at last it was given up to die.
Almost agouized, the mother prayed to
III carried into the room Of her darling, to g
~. it one last embrace. Both parents sucse
,ad' ed in gaining the apartment, just as it
thought that the babe haG breathed its /
On They bent closer down.
70 God wiU take care OF JG5y.'
Sweet, consoling words they had III
80 y ceased when the angle-spirit was in He
en.-OIiUe Branch.