THE CHILD AND THE DEW-DROPS.

"On! father, dear father, why pass they away, The dew-drops that sparkled at dawning of day— That glitter'd like stars by the light of the moon, Oh! why are those dew-drops dissolving so soon ? Does the sun, in his wrath, chase their brightness

away,

As though nothing that's lovely might live for a day? The moonlight has faded-the flowers still remain,But the dew is dried out of their petals again."

My child," said the father, "look up to the skies, Behold you bright rainbow, those beautiful dyes. There there are the dew-drops in glory-reset;

'Mid the jewels of heaven they are glittering yet. Then, are we not taught by each beautiful ray To mourn not for beauty though fleeting away ? For though youth of its brightness and beauty be riven,

All that withers on earth blooms more brightly in heaven."

Alas! for the father-how little knew he

The words he had spoken prophetic could be; That the beautiful child — the bright star of his

day

Was e'en then like the dew-drops dissolving away.

Oh! sad was the father, when lo! in the skies
The rainbow again spread its glorious dyes;
And then he remember'd the maxims he'd given,
And thought of his child, and the dew-drops-
in heaven.

H. CARPENTER.

THE CHILD'S WISH IN JUNE.

MOTHER, mother, the winds are at play,
Prithee, let me be idle to-day.
Look, dear mother, the flowers all lie
Languidly under the bright blue sky.

See, how slowly the streamlet glides:
Look, how the violet roguishly hides;
Even the butterfly rests on the rose,
And scarcely sips the sweets as he goes.

Poor Tray is asleep in the noon-day sun,
And the flies go about him one by one;
And pussy sits near with a sleepy grace,
Without ever thinking of rubbing her face.

There flies a bird to a neighbouring tree;
But very lazily flieth he;

And he sits and twitters a gentle note
That scarcely ruffles his little throat.

You bid me be busy; but mother, hear
How the hum-drum grasshopper soundeth near;
And the soft west wind is so light in its play
It scarcely moves a leaf on the spray.

I wish, oh! I wish I was yonder cloud,
That sails about with its misty shroud;
Books and work I should no more see,
And I'd come and float, dear mother, o'er thee.

MRS. GILHAM.

PRAISE FOR DAILY MERCIES.

WHENE'ER I take my walks abroad,
How many poor I see!
What shall I render to my God
For all his gifts to me?

Not more than others I deserve,
Yet God hath given me more;
For I have food, while others starve,
Or beg from door to door.

How many children in the street
Half-naked I behold;

While I am clothed from head to feet,
And cover'd from the cold.

While some poor creatures scarce can tell
Where they may lay their head,
I have a home wherein to dwell,
And rest upon my bed.

While others early learn to swear,
And curse, and lie, and steal,
Lord, I am taught Thy name to fear,
And do Thy holy will.

Are these Thy favours, day by day,

To me above the rest?

Then let me love Thee more than they,

And try to serve Thee best.

DR. WATTS.

WHO MADE THEM?

"MOTHER, who made the stars which light The beautiful blue sky?

Who made the moon, so clear and bright, That rises up so high ?"

"'Twas God, my child, the glorious OneHe form'd them by His power;

He made alike the brilliant sun
And every leaf and flower.

"He made your little feet to walk,
Your sparkling eyes to see,
Your busy, prattling tongue to talk,

Your limbs so light and free.

"He paints each fragrant flower that glows

With loveliness and bloom;

He gives the violet and the rose
Their beauty and perfume.

"Our various wants His hands supply,

And guard us every hour;

We're kept beneath his watchful eye,
And guided by His power.

"Then let your little heart, my love,
Its grateful homage pay

To this kind Friend who, from above,
So gently guides your way."

MY FATHER'S AT THE HELM.

THE curling waves with awful roar
A little boat assail'd;

And pallid Fear's distracting power
O'er all on board prevail'd.