American Female Poets [an electronic edition]

MARY J. REED.

Biographical Sketch.

MISS MARY REED, the young author of the following serious and beautiful poems, is an orphan, a native of Philadelphia, where she resides with her brother. She has written much for the journals of that city, under the name of Marie Roseau, and all her effusions are distinguished by the elevated tone of mind, and the loving, pure, and useful purpose they display.

WEARY.

FATHER! I'm sad and weary — give me rest! Weary of earth, its troubles and its snares; Weary of combat with its many cares; Is there no refuge for me on thy breast?

Deceived by those on whom I most relied — Weary of broken friendship, oft betrayed — Yearning to trust, and yet to trust afraid, I come to One, in whom I may confide.

Oh! I am weary of this sinful life! Weary of error, and yet erring still, Knowing yet doing not thy holy will, Oh, I am weary of this endless strife!

I ask not that thou take me from the earth, But keep me from its evils, — guide my feet, And give me strength its many cares to meet — To act all worthy of my heavenly birth.

Oh! teach me to do good; —with heart and hand To help those struggling 'neath a load of grief, Relieving where my aid may bring relief, Thus ever following thy blest command.

Oh give to me an innate dread of sin, That I may tread thy way in holy fear, Striving to keep my conscience ever clear; My words all right, and purity within.

And if I feel this life a weariness, With such an utter loneliness of heart, Oh gird my spirit —newer strength impart — With heavenly sympathy my spirit bless.

Then will my soul the holy influence know, Then may I be a conqu'ror in the strife, And I may firmly tread my way through life, Till ends its toilsome pilgrimage below.

LITTLE CHILDREN.

SPEAK gently to the little child, So guileless and so free, Who with a trustful, loving heart, Puts confidence in thee. Speak not the cold and careless words Which time has taught thee well, Nor breathe one thought whose saddened tone Despair might seem to tell.

If on his brow there rests a cloud, However light it be, Speak loving words, and let him feel He has a friend in thee; And do not send him from thy side Till on his face shall rest The joyous look and sunny smile, That mark a happy breast.

Oh! teach him this should be his aim, To cheer the aching heart, To strive where thickest darkness reigns Some radiance to impart; To spread a peaceful, quiet calm, Where dwells the noise of strife, Thus doing good, and blessing all, To spend the whole of life.

To love with pure affection deep All creatures, great and small, And still a stronger love to bear For Him who made them all Remember 't is no common task That thus to thee is given, To rear a spirit fit to be The habitant of Heaven!