THE OHIO.
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There's music ilt .Hother's roice. iitefe music III Il mothers s voice, More sweet than breozes signing; There's kindness in mother's glance, Too pure for ever dying. There's love within mother's breast, So deep, 'tis still o'erfowing, And care for those she calls her own, That's ever, ever growing. There's anguish in mothers tear,

 When farewell fondly taking, That so the heart of pity moves,

 It scarcely keeps from breaking. And when mother kneels 10 Heaven, And for her child is praying. 9, who shall half the fer1our tell

 That burns in all she's sayingl A mother! how her tender arts

 Can soothe the breast of sadness, And through the gloom of life once moro Bid shine the sun of gladness. 4 mother. when, like evening $ star, Her course hath ceased before us, From brighter worlds regards Us still, And watches fondly OCT us.