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150       MARIA JAMES.

GOOD-FRIDAY.

THE scene is fresh before us, 
When Jesus drain'd the cup,
As new the day comes o'er us,
When He was offer'd up:

The veil in sunder rending,
The types and shadows flee,
While heaven and earth are bending
Their gaze on Calvary.

Should mortal dare in numbers,
Where angels trembling stand?
Or wake the harp that slumbers
In flaming seraph's hand?

Then tell the wond'rous story
Where rolls salvation's wave,
And give him all the glory,
Who came the lost to save.


THE PICTURE.

These lines were suggested by the writer's calling to see a very aged and venerable lady, (widow of the late Benjamin Moore,) whom she found sitting for her picture. New York, June 4th, .838.

ERE dissolves the house of clay,
Ere the vision melts away,
Ere descend the tottering walls,
Ere the sacred mantle falls,
Lay the colouring,—mingle there
Mary's love and Martha's care:
Hers an ear for others' woe,
Hers the hand, the heart to do;
But in serving had she rest,
But in blessing was she bless'd.


JESSIE G. M'CARTEE.       151

WHAT IS POETRY?

A LAMBENT flame within the breast;
A thought harmouniously express'd;
A distant meteor's glimmering ray;
A light that often leads astray;
A harp, whose ever-varying tone
Might waken to the breeze's moan
A lake, in whose transparent face
Fair nature's lovely form we trace;
A blooming flower, in gardens rare,
Yet found in deserts bleak and bare;
A charm o'er every object thrown;
A bright creation of its own;
A burst of feeling, warm and wild,
From nature's own impassion'd child.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

JESSIE G. M'CARTEE.

ALTHOUGH the subject of this notice is entirely unknown to the literary world, never having written a book, or contributed to the magazines of the day, or imprinted her poetry anywhere except in the hearts of her family, and now and then in the pages of a country newspaper; yet we are gratified by the permission so kindly granted us, to place her pure and pious lays among those of the acknowledged American poetesses. Mrs. M'Cartee is the wife of the Rev. Dr. M'Cartee, of Goshen, Orange county, N. Y., where she has lived for a number of years, quietly and meekly fulfilling her responsible duties as a minister's wife, and the mother of a very large family. Her father, Mr. Divine Bethune, came from Scotland at an early age, and settled as a merchant in New York; where his active philanthropy, and unostentatious benevolence, made him known to all classes, rich and poor;

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