INCENTIVE TO EARLY RISING.
SOFT slumbers now mine eyes forsake,
My powers are all renew'd,
May my freed spirit too awake
With heavenly strength endued.
Thou silent murderer, Sloth, no more
My mind imprison'd keep;
Nor let me waste another hour
With thee, thou felon, Sleep.
Think, O my soul, could dying men
One lavish'd hour retrieve,
Though spent in tears, and pass'd in pain,
What treasures would they give!
But seas of pearls and mines of gold
Were offer'd them in vain;
Their pearl of countless price is sold,
And where's the promised gain?
Lord, when Thy day of dread account
For squander'd hours shall come,
O let not this increase th' amount,
And swell the former sum.
Teach me in health each good to prize
I dying shall esteem,
And every pleasure to despise
I then shall worthless deem.
For all thy wondrous mercies past
My grateful voice I'll raise,
While thus I quit my bed of rest,
Creation's Lord to praise.
OUR HEAVENLY FATHER.
Ir was my heavenly Father's love
Brought every being forth;
He made the shining worlds above,
And every thing on earth.
Each lovely flower, the smallest fly,
The sea, the waterfall,
The bright green fields, the clear blue sky'Tis God that made them all.
He gave me all my friends, and taught
My heart to love them well,
And He bestowed the power of thought,
And speech my thoughts to tell.
My father and my mother dear,-
He is their father too;
He bids me all their precepts hear,
And all they teach me, do.
God sees and hears me all the day,
And 'mid the darkest night;
He views me when I disobey,
And when I act aright.
He guards me with a parent's care,
When I am all alone;
My hymn of praise, my humble prayer,
He hears them every one.
God hears what I am saying now,—
Oh, what a wondrous thought!
My heavenly Father, teach me how
To love Thee as I ought.-Eliza Lee Follen.
BIRDIE, birdie, quickly come!
Come and take this little crumb;
Go and fetch your little brother,
And be kind to one another.
Birdie, sing a song to me,
I will very quiet be;
Yes, my birdie—yes, I will
Be so quiet, and so still.
Oh! so still, you shall not hear me;
Fear not, birdie, to come near me.
Tell me, in your pleasant song,
What you're doing all day long:
How you pass the rainy days—
Tell me all about your plays.
Have you lessons, birdie? tell--
*Do
you learn to read and spell?
Or just fly from tree to tree,
Where you will, at liberty-
Far up in the clear blue sky,
Very far, and very high?
Or in pleasant summer hours,
Do you play with pretty flowers?
Birdie, is this all you do?
Then I wish that I were you.
THE various flowers that in the garden grow
Not only please me, but instruct me too;
And while with fresh delight their forms I see,
Each has some lesson, some advice for me.
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