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So to the ark she fled,
With weary, drooping head,

To seek for rest.
God is thy ark, my love:
Thou art the tender dove;
Fly to his breast.

Mrs. Sigourney.


rs this a time to be cloudy and sad,

When our mother Nature laughs around; When even the deep blue heavens look glad, And gladness breathes from the blossoming

ground ?

There are notes of joy from the hang-bird and

wren, And the gossip of swallows through all the sky; The ground-squirrel gayly chirps by his den, And the wilding bee hums merrily by.

The clouds are at play in the azure space,
And their shadows at play on the bright green

And here they stretch to the frolic chase,
And there they roll on the easy gale.

There's a dance of leaves in that aspen bower; There's a titter of wind in that beechen tree; There's a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the

flower, And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea.

And look at the broad-faced Sun! how he smiles
On the dewy earth that smiles in his ray,
On the leaping waters and gay young isles !
Ay, look! and he'll smile thy gloom away.

W. C. Bryant.


THROUGH all the busy daylight, through all

the quiet night, Whether the stars are in the sky or the sun is

shining bright, In the nursery, in the parlor, in the street, or on

the stair, Though I may seem to be alone, yet God is always there.

Whatever I may do,

Wherever I may be,
Although I see him not,

Yet God sees me.

He knows each word I mean to speak before the

word is spoken; Ile knows the thoughts within my heart, although

I give no token : When I am naughty, then I grieve my heavenly

Father's love; And, every time I really try, he helps me from above. Whatever I


do, Wherever I

may be, Although I see him not,

Yet God sees me.

I have kind and tender parents; I have many

loving friends : But none love me as God loves me; and all that's

good he sends: I will walk as God shall, while the sun is

in the sky; And lay me down, and sleep in peace beneath his watchful eye.

Whatever I may do,

Wherever I may be,
Although I see him not,
Yet God sees me.

Hymns for Mothers and Children.


LOD might have made the earth bring forth

Enough for great and small, The oak-tree and the cedar-tree,

Without a flower at all.'

He might have made enough, enough,
For every

want of ours,
For luxury, medicine, and toil;

And yet have made no flowers.

The clouds might give abundant rain,

The nightly dews might fall;
And the herb that keepeth life in man

Might yet have drunk them all.

Then wherefore, wherefore, were they made,

And dyed with rainbow light,
All fashioned with supremest grace,

Upspringing day and night,

Springing in valleys green and low,

And on the mountain high, And in the silent wilderness,

Where no man passes by ?

Our outward life requires them not:

Then wherefore had they birth? To minister delight to man;

To beautify the earth;

To comfort man; to whisper hope

Whene'er his faith is dim:
For He that careth for the flowers
Will care much more for him.

Mary Howitt.



HY come not spirits from the realms of

glory To visit earth as in the days of old, The times of sacred writ and ancient story? Is heaven more distant? or has earth grown


To Bethlehem's air was their last anthem given, When other stars before the One


dim? Was their last presence known in Peter's prison,

Or where exulting martyrs raised their hymn?

And are they all within the veil departed ?

There gleams no wing along the empyrean now; And many a tear from human eyes has started

Since angel touch has calmed a mortal brow.

No: earth has angels, though their forms are

moulded But of such clay as fashions all below:

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