Yet still doth chasten'd faith
Ask help of God, to render back with praise
A soul to which He gave the victory.

MISS FRANCES WYMAN TRACY,

Adopted daughter of Mrs. WILLIAM TRACY, died at New York, in 1860,
aged 17.

O young and beautiful, thy step
Was light with fairy grace,
And well the music of thy voice
Accorded with thy face,

And blent with those attractive charms
How fair it was to see
Thy tenderness for her who fill'd
A Mother's place to thee.

Yet all the pure and holy ties
Thus round thy being wove,
They are not lost, they are not dead,
They have a life above.

What though the sleepless care of love
Might not avail to save,
And sorrow with her dropping tear
Keeps vigil o'er thy grave,

Faith hath a rainbow for the cloud,
A solace for the pain,
A promise from the Book Divine
To rise, nor part again.

DEACON NORMAND SMITH,

Died at Hartford, May 22d, 1860, aged 87.

One saintly man the less, to teach us how
Wisely to live,--one blest example more
To teach us how to die.
Fourscore and seven,
Swept not the beauty of his brow away,
Nor quell'd his voice of music, nor impair'd
The social feeling that through all his life
Ran like a thread of gold.
In filial arms
Close wrapp'd with watchful tenderness, he trod
Jordan's cold brink.
The world was beautiful,
But Christ's dear love so wrought within his heart
That to depart seem'd better.
Many a year
He lent his influence to the church he loved,
For unity and peace, and countless gems
Dropp'd from his lips when the last sickness came,
To fortify young pilgrims in the course
That leads to glory and eternal life.

As the frail flesh grew weak, the soul look'd forth
With added brightness thro' the clear, dark eye,
As though it saw unutterable things,
Or heard the welcome of beloved ones
Who went to rest before him.
So, with smiles,
And prayers and holy hymns, and loving words
He laid the burden of the body down,
And slept in Jesus.

MRS. HELEN TYLER BEACH,

Wife of Mr. C. N. BEACH, died at Philadelphia, July 30th, 1860.

How strange that One who yesterday
Shed radiance round her sphere,
Thus, in the prime of life and health,
Should slumber on the bier.

How sad that One who cheer'd her home
With love's unvarying grace,
Should leave at hearth-stone and at board
Nought