my God! one earnest prayer:--
Room for my bird in Paradise,
And give her angel plumage there!

_Maulmain_, January, 1848.

The following touching lines show that she could skilfully employ her
ready pen in consoling those on whom had fallen the stroke of
bereavement:

LINES

_Addressed to a missionary friend in Burmah on the death of her little
boy, thirteen months old, in which allusion is made to the previous
death of his little brother._

A mound is in the graveyard,
A short and narrow bed;
No grass is growing on it,
And no marble at its head:
Ye may sit and weep beside it
Ye may kneel and kiss the sod,
But ye'll find no balm for sorrow,
In the cold and silent clod.

There is anguish in the household,
It is desolate and lone,
For a fondly cherished nursling
From the parent nest has flown;
A little form is missing;
A heart has ceased to beat;
And the chain of love lies shattered
At the desolator's feet.

Remove the empty cradle,
His clothing put away,
And all his little playthings
With your choicest treasures lay;
Strive not to check the tear drops,
That fall like summer rain,
For the sun of hope shines thro' them--
Ye shall see his face again.

Oh! think where rests your darling,--
Not in his cradle bed;
Not in the distant graveyard,
With the still and mouldering dead
But in a heavenly mansion,
Upon the Saviour's breast,
With his brother's arms about him,
He takes his sainted rest.

He has put on robes of glory
For the little robes ye wrought;
And he fingers golden harp strings
For the toys his sisters brought.
Oh, weep! but with rejoicing;
A heart gem have ye given,
And behold its glorious setting
In the diadem of Heaven.

The following letter and beautiful poems need little explanation. The
letter is addressed to some of Dr. Judson's children, who resided in
Worcester, Massachusetts, having been sent home from India to be
educated in America. His health having failed, Dr. J. had sailed for the
Isle of Bourbon for its restoration, and it was during his absence that
these effusions were penned.

Maulmain, April 11, 1850.

My very dear Children,

I have painful news to tell you--news that I am sure will make your