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MY HEAVENLY FATHER.
may betide, The God of all grace
Will for me provide ; Since he from the heavens
Has taught us to say, “Consider the ravens,”
Whenever ye pray.
They sow not, nor reap,
Nor gather in store, Having nothing to keep,
Yet never are poor. Since God in the heavens
Made nothing in vain, I'll think of the ravens
And never complain.
My wants may be great,
And earthly friends few, Yet on him I'll wait
Whatever I do;
Well knows what I need; I know from the ravens
His children he'll feed.
I'll bow to his throne,
And never despair, But thankfully own
His fatherly care; To him in the heavens
I'll lift up my voice; I'll think of the ravens,
And always rejoice.
BY JAMES MONTGOMERY.
thine eyes, afflicted soul! From earth uplift thine eyes, Though dark the evening shadows roll,
And daylight beauty dies;
Their rounds of glory run,
In every star a sun.
Thus when some long-loved comfort ends,
And nature would despair,
And meets ten thousand there;
They gladden all the gloom,
The rank of suns assume.
N old man and his daughter fair
Were bowed before a shrine, The father with his thin gray hair,
The maiden in her prime.
Together they, ʼmid storm and rain,
Had journeyed many a day,
Within its church to pray.
With travel worn, with care oppressed,
They sought the House of Prayer, They left it-strengthened and refreshed
“For God had met them there."
ID you ever, my young readers, in this fickle
climate of ours, enjoy the luxury of drinking tea out of doors, in a shady arbor, on a thoroughly fine summer evening? If so, you will be more likely to understand the intense enjoyment of a party of young friends of mine, who one day found themselves in this enviable situation, in the garden of a beautiful villa, near the large town of Hull.
Tea, with all its accompaniments, comprising the seasonable one of strawberries and cream, was just over; when the sounds of music of some description burst suddenly in full chorus on the ear from behind the garden hedge.