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CHILD'S BOOK OF RELIGION.

PART I.

WORSHIP.

1.

CALLS TO PRAYER

1. THE CHILD'S PRAYER.

Y Alpine lake, 'neath shady rock,

The herdboy knelt beside his flock, . And softly told, with pious air, His alphabet as evening prayer.

Unseen, his pastor lingered near.
“My child, what means the sound I hear?
May I not in the worship share,
And raise to heaven my evening prayer?

“Where'er the hills and valleys blend, The sounds of prayer and praise ascend. My child, a prayer yours cannot be: You've only said your A B C.”

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“I have no better way to pray:
All that I know, to God I say ;
I tell the letters on my knees :
He makes the words himself to please.”

Miss Lander (from the German).

2. THE BEAUTY OF PRAYER.

T is good to pray unto God: for his sorrowing

children Turns he ne'er from the door; but he heals and

helps and consoles them. It is good to pray when all things are prospering

with us,

Pray in fortunate days; for Life's most beautiful

Fortune Kneels down before the Eternal's throne, and,

with hands interfolded, Praises, thankful and moved, the only Giver of

blessings. For do ye know, ye children, one blessing that

comes not from heaven? What has mankind forsooth, the poor, that it has

not received ? Therefore fall on thy knee, and pray.

The seraphs, adoring, Cover with pinions six their face in the glory of

Him who Hung his masonry pendent on nought when the

world he created.

Earth declareth his might, and the firmament

speaketh his glory. Races blossom and die, and stars fall downward

from heaven, Downward like withered leaves. At the last

stroke of midnight, millenniums Lay themselves down at his feet; and he sees

them, and counts them as nothing.
Yet why do ye fear, ye children? This awful

Avenger,
Ah! is a merciful God. God's voice was not

heard in the earthquake,
Not in the fire, nor the storm; but it was in the

whispering breezes.
Love is the root of creation, --God's essence.

Worlds without number
Lie in his bosom like children. He made them

for this purpose only, -
Only to love, and to be loved again. He breathed

forth his Spirit Into the slumbering dust; and, upright standing,

it placed Its hand on its heart, and felt it was warm with

a flame out of heaven. Quench, oh, quench not that flame! It is the breath of your being !

From the Swedish of Tegnér,

Translated by Longfellow,

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3. PRAYER IS OF NO PLACE.

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Of humanity clothed in the brightness of

God? Were our spirits but turned from the outward

and dim, They could gaze even now on the presence of

Him: Not in clouds, nor in terrors, but gentle as when In love and in meekness he moved among men; And the voice which breathed peace to the

waves of the sea In the hush of my spirit would whisper to me. Then what if our feet may not tread where he

stood, Nor our ears hear the dashing of Galilee's flood, Nor our eyes see the cross which he bowed him

to bear, Nor our knees press Gethsemane's garden of

prayer? Yet, loved of the Father, thy spirit is near To the meek and the lowly and penitent here; And the voice of thy love is the same, even now, As at Bethlehem's tomb or on Olivet's brow.

J. G. Whittier.

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