Gone to the Better Land.

MR. JOHN WARBURTON,

Died at Hartford, November, 1861.

The knot of crape upon yon stately door,
And sadness brooding o'er the sun-bright halls,
What do they signify?
Death hath been there
Where truth and goodness hand in hand with love
Walk'd for so many years.
Death hath been there,
To do mid flowing tears his mighty work,
Extinguishing the tyranny of pain
And taking the immortal essence home
Where it would be.
Yet is there left behind
A transcript that we cherish, and a chasm
We have no power to fill. Almost it seems
That we beheld him still, with quiet step
Moving among us, saintly and serene,
Clear-sighted, upright, held in high regard,
Yet meekly unambitious, seeking nought
Of windy honor from the mouth of men
But with the Gospel's perfect code content,
Breathing good-will to all.
Freely his wealth
Wrought blessed channels mid the sons of need,
Lending Philanthropy and Piety
A stronger impulse in their mission-course
To ameliorate and save.

So, thus intent
On higher deeds and aims than earth supplies,
An adept in that true philosophy
Learnt only in Christ's school, he calmly went
Unto his Master and the Class above.

REV. HENRY ALBERTSON POST,

Died at Warrensburgh, New York, November 12th, 1861, aged 26.

[1]Read me rejoicing Psalms,
Oh dearest one, and best!
I go from war to peace,
From pain to glorious rest,

Where the bright life-tree sheds
Around its precious balms,
So, while I linger here
Read me rejoicing psalms.

And when my place I take
Amid the ransom'd throng
Who through a Saviour's love
Uplift the immortal song,

Repress the tear of grief
That washes faith away,
And brave in zeal and love
Await our meeting-day.

Yes, let thy course below
Through all its fleeting days
In its angelic ministries
Be as a psalm of praise.

[1] His request of his wife during the sufferings of an acute
dyptheria, which suddenly separated him from an attached people,
was, "Read me rejoicing Psalms."

MISS CAROLINE L. GRIFFIN,

Died at New York, November 17th, 1861.

WRITTEN ON HER BIRTH-DAY.

The day returns, beloved friend
When in thy Mother's arms
Thou a fair gift from Heaven wert laid
In all thine infant charms,
That day, with cloudless sky returns,
But yet thou art not here
And f