THE HEATHEN MOTHER.

[[Listen]]

See that heathen mother stand
Where the sacred currents flow,
With her own maternal hand,
Mid the waves her infant throw.

Hark! I hear the piteous scream,
Frightful monsters seize their prey:
Or the dark and bloody stream
Bears the struggling child away.

Fainter now, and fainter still,
Breaks the cry upon the ear;
But the mother's heart is steel;
She, unmov'd, that cry can hear.

Send, O send the Bible there,
Let its precepts reach the heart,
She may then her children spare—
Act the mother's tender part.

B.