[NTO our home one blessed day

INTO

A wee sweet babe had found its way,

While through the mist of tears and pain
Sunlight fell on our hearts again!

There it lay in its tender grace,—
The wee babe in its resting-place.
The father's eye with pride and joy
Beamed as it rested on his boy!

He saw, as the years roll swift away,
And time had blanched his locks to gray,

A strong young figure guide his feet
On until life and death should meet,

And when his days on earth should close,
The loved one lay him to repose!

But what the voice within her ear,
The mother, in whose eye a tear

Glistens and falls upon the brow
Of the babe resting by her now?

She lifts her heart and simply says,
"O God! I thank thee, give thee praise!

She hears a voice within her ear

That breathes this lesson, low, but clear:

"Mother! to thee this day is given

A soul to keep and fit for heaven.

"Oh, watch and lead the little feet Through the day's toil and pain and heat

"Lest from the path they go astray, And wander from God's fold away!

"And guide the hands that they may know No other will than His below.

"And train the heart so pure, so mild, Into the likeness of the Child

"Who came into a world of sin And gave his life our souls to win!

"Heed well the charge! nor hope to plead Thou couldst not know, thou didst not heed!"

The mother bowed her head in thought,
And then for guidance meekly sought.
Then from her lips arose this prayer:
"Do thou, O Lord, my soul prepare

"To do thy will, and yield to thee
This child, at last, all stainlessly!"

-Marian Longfellow.

HERE did you come from, baby dear?
Out of the everywhere into here.

Where did you get your eyes so blue?
Out of the sky as I came through.

Where did you get that little tear?

I found it waiting when I got here.

What makes your forehead so smooth and high? A soft hand stroked it as I went by.

What makes your cheek like a warm white rose?
I saw something better than any one knows.

Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss?
Three angels gave me at once a kiss.

Where did you get this pearly ear?
God spoke, and it came out to hear.

Where did you get those arms and hands?
Love made itself into hooks and bands.

Feet, whence did you come, you darling things?
From the same box as the cherubs' wings.

How did they all come to be you?
God thought about me, and so I grew.

But how did you come to us, you dear?
God thought about you, and so I am here.
-George MacDonald.

Yet he chuckles, and crows, and nods, and winks,

As if his head were as full of kinks
And curious riddles as any sphinx!
Warped by colic, and wet by tears,
Punctured by pins, and tortured by fears,
Our little nephew will lose two years
And he'll never know
Where the summers go;

He need not laugh, for he'll find it so.
Who can tell what a baby thinks?
Who can follow the gossamer links

By which the manikin feels his way
Out from the shore of the great unknown,
Blind and wailing, and alone,

Into the light of day?

Out from the shore of the unknown sea,
Tossing in pitiful agony;

Of the unknown sea that reels and rolls,
Specked with the barks of little souls,-
Barks that were launched on the other side,
And slipped from heaven on an ebbing tide!

What does he think of his mother's eyes? What does he think of his mother's hair? What of the cradle-roof that flies Forward and backward through the air? What does he think of his mother's breast, Bare and beautiful, smooth and white, Seeking it ever with fresh delight,

Cup of his life, and couch of his rest? What does he think when her quick embrace Presses his hand and buries his face Deep where the heart-throbs sink and swell, With a tenderness she can never tell, Though she murmur the words

Of all the birds,

Words she has learned to murmur well? Now he thinks he'll go to sleep!

I can see the shadow creep

Over his eyes in soft eclipse,
Over his brow and over his lips,
Out to his little finger-tips!
Softly sinking, down he goes!
Down he goes! down he goes!
See! he's hushed in sweet repose.

-Josiah Gilbert Holland.

Two

WO little feet, so small that both may nestle
In one caressing hand,—

Two tender feet upon the untried border

Of life's mysterious land.

Dimpled, and soft, and pink as peach-trec blossoms,
In April's fragrant days,

How can they walk among the briery tangles,
Edging the world's rough ways?

These rose-white feet, along the doubtful future,
Must bear a mother's load;

Alas! since woman has the heaviest burden,
And walks the harder road.

Love, for a while, will make the path before them All dainty, smooth, and fair,—

Will cull away the brambles, letting only

The roses blossom there.

But when the mother's watchful eyes are shrouded Away from sight of men,

And these dear feet are left without her guiding,
Who shall direct them then?

How will they be allured, betrayed, deluded
Poor little untaught feet!

Into what dreary mazes will they wander,

What dangers will they meet?

Will they go stumbling blindly in the darkness
Of sorrow's tearful shades?

Or find the upland slopes of Peace and Beauty,
Whose sunlight never fades?

Will they go toiling up Ambition's summit,
The common world above?

Or in some nameless vale, securely sheltered,
Walk side by side with Love?

Some feet there be which walk life's track unwounded,
Which find but pleasant ways:

Some hearts there be to which this life is only
A round of happy days.

But these are few. Far more there are who wander
Without a hope or friend,-

Who find their journey full of pains and losses,
And long to reach the end.

How shall it be with her, the tender stranger,
Fair-faced and gentle-eyed,

Before whose unstained feet the world's rude highway
Stretches so fair and wide?

Ah! who may read the future? For our darling We crave all blessings sweet,

And pray that He who feeds the crying ravens, Will guide the baby's feet.

-Anonymous.

(But stop, first let me kiss away that tear) Thou tiny image of myself!

(My love, he's poking peas into his ear!)

Thou merry, laughing sprite,

With spirits feather light,

Untouched by sorrow, and unsoiled by sin;

(My dear, the child is swallowing a pin!)

Thou imp of mirth and joy!

In love's dear chain so bright a link,
Thou idol of thy parents;-(Drat the boy!
There goes my ink.)

Thou cherub, but of earth;

Fit playfellow for fays, by moonlight pale,
In harmless sport and mirth,

(That dog will bite him, if he pulls his tail!)
Thou human humming-bee, extracting honey
From every blossom in the world that blows,
Singing in youth's Elysium ever sunny,-
(Another tumble! That's his precious nose!)
Thy father's pride and hope!

(He'll break the mirror with that skipping-rope!)