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My S.S. Class.

by Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow

I now will endeavor, while fresh in my mind,

My Sabbath School Class to portray;

The theme's furnished for me, I've only to find

Colors to blend, their forms to display.

And first on the canvass we'll Adeline place,

With her full and expressive dark eye;

Decision of purpose is stamped on that face,

And good scholarship too we descry.

Next in order comes Alice, with bright sunny smile,

That does one's heart good to behold;

May the sorrows of life ne'er that young spirit blight,

Nor that heart be less cheerful when old.

But who's this that we see, with that mild pensive air,

And a look so expressively kind?

It is Ann, gentle Ann, before whom we pass by,

We will add - 't would be useless in any to try

Disposition more lovely to find.

The next is a bright noble face we espy,

'Tis a boy of ten years we shall find;

There's a spice of the rogue in that merry young eye,

With good sense and good nature combined.

It's young master Alpheus - we never have found

One more punctual at school hour than he;

He's now but a lad, yet who knows when a man,

But a Judge in our land he may be.

Next comes little Moggy, our dear little Moggy,

But before she is brought out to view,

We'll new colors select, add fresh tints to the whole,

And spread all on our pallet anew.

And now she appears in her own proper size,

Her cheeks colored by nature's warm glow;

With her full lustrous and speaking black eyes,

And rich ringlets that grace her young brow.

Walter's the last on the painting we see,

Little Walter, the youngest of all;

Look! he's repeating his lesson just now,

Mark the expression on that infant brow,

He's a wonder, for scholar so small.

But there's one in this grouping we look for in vain,

Whose image we often recall;

How mournfully sweet is the sound of thy name,

Dear Elbridge, the loved one of all.

Thou wert called in the freshness of morning away,

By him who all things doeth well;

The rest for brief periods are suffered to stay,

How long, we may none of us tell.

May the Holy Book studied in this Sabbath School,

Be more precious than silver or gold;

Be its doctrines received, and its precepts obeyed,

And rich treasures it still will unfold.

And when one by one we shall all pass away,

To me, oh! my Father, be given

The joy that no heart upon earth can conceive,

To meet all in the kingdom of Heaven.

Weston, Feb. 17, 1852.