HOME AT NIGHTFALL.
HOME the weary birds are flying,
On their quivering, beating wings;
Hiding in the rustling ivy
That about our window clings.
There is One who makes the shelter
For the wild birds as for all;
Not a sparrow drops from Heaven
But our Father marks its fall.
Canst thou feed the birds that toil not,
Care for them, forgetting me?
No! and as the birds fly homeward,
Helpless too, I fly to Thee.
Father, in the darkening meadows,
In the long grass hidden deep,
Thou hast closed the wild-flower blossoms,
And the daisies are asleep.
I may gather them to-morrow,
We may crush them in our play,
Yet thou clothest these in beauty—
These that perish in a day.
Let me sleep as they are sleeping,
In the darkness safe with Thee;
Who would fear, thus breathing, living
In Thy blest immensity?
And the far-off stars are watching
Worlds too distant for our thought,
All the shining countless myriads
Thy Almighty hands have wrought;
Yet with this wild world around me,
And the wondrous worlds above,
Thou dost think of me, yea, love me,
With a real and boundless love.
THOU HAST CLOSED THE WILD-FLOWER BLOSSOMS."
And the hearts of little children
Are more precious in Thy sight,
Than the thousand stars of Heaven
In their glory and their light.
COME tell me now, sweet little bird,
Who decked thy wings with gold?
Who fashioned so thy tiny form,
And bade thy wings unfold?
Who taught thee such enchanting power
To soothe this aching heart,
And with thy note of harmony,
To mock the reach of art?
Thou fly'st away! who bade thee soar?
Who bade thee seek the sky,
And wander through yon silver cloud,
A speck to mortal eye?
Oh, had I but thy wings, sweet bird,
I'd mount where angels be,
And leave behind this world of sin,
A little thing like thee!
I'd mount where golden harps proclaim
Emmanuel's dying love,
And gladly hail th' eternal rest
Of that pure realm above.
WEE Janie is but five years old,
A light-winged gossamer,
With glancing beauties manifold;
And thus I sing to her :-
My fairy, flitting blithe and bright
Among the flowers of June,
Her eyes reflecting sunny light,
Her heart with all in tune!
God grant her days be long and clear,
Her nights be peaceful rest ;
And ever may her place be near
The shelter of His breast.
It makes me sad to think that years
Must bring their cold and rain,
And dim those laughing eyes with tears,
And fill that heart with pain.
Her thoughtless happiness will go,
As others' joys have gone ;
Her heart, through sorrow, learn to know
Each heart lives most alone.
But, fairy, dance thy best to-day,
In ignorance of sorrow;
Laugh while thy heart is fresh and gay,
And leave with God the morrow.
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