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JESUS, tender Shepherd, hear me;

Bless Thy little lambs to-night: Through the darkness be Thou near me,

Watch my sleep till morning light. All this day Thy hand has led me,

And I thank Thee for Thy care ; Thou hast clothed me, warm’d and fed me,

Listen to my evening prayer. Let my sins be all forgiven,

Bless the friends I love so well; Take me when I die to heaven, Happy there with Thee to dwell.

MARY L. DUNCAN.

I

THE SNOW-BIRD'S SONG.

THE ground was all cover'd with snow one day,
And two little sisters were busy at play,
When a snow-bird was sitting close by on a trer,
And merrily singing his chick-a-de-dee,

Chick-a-de-dee, chick-a-de-dee, And merrily singing his chick-a-de-dee. He had not been singing that tune very long, Ere Emily heard him, so loud was his song: “Oh, sister, look out of the window," said she, “Here's a dear little bird singing chick-a-de-dee."

Chick-a-de-dee, &c.

“Oh, mother, do get him some stockings and shoes, And a nice little frock, and a hat if he chose ; I wish he'd come into the parlour and see How warm we would make him, poor chick-ade-dee."

Chick-a-de-dee, &c.

“There is One, my dear child, though I cannot teil

who, Has clothed me already, and warm enough too. Good morning! Oh who are so happy as we " And away he went singing his chick-a-de-dee.

Chick-a-de-dee, &c.

F. C. WOODWORTH.

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Turn, turn thy hasty foot aside,

Nor crush that belpless worm : The frame thy wayward looks deride

Required a God to form.

The common Lord of all that move,

From whom thy being flow'd, A portion of His boundless love

On that poor worm bestow'd.

The sun, the moon, the stars He made,

To all His creatures free; And spreads o'er earth the grassy blade For worms as well as thee.

Let them enjoy their little day,

Their lowly bliss receive; Oh! do not lightly take away

The life thou canst not give.

GISBORNE.

THE SPARROW.
Glad to see you, little bird,
'Twas your little chirp I heard ;
What did you intend to say ?
“Give me something this cold day?"
That I will, and plenty too;
All these crumbs I saved for you :
Don't be frighten'd-here's a treat;
I will wait and see you eat.
Shocking tales I hear of you:
Chirp, and tell me, are they true ?
Robbing all the summer long:
Don't

very wrong?
Thomas says you steal his wheat,
John complains his plums you eat,
Choose the ripest for your share,
Never asking whose they are.
But I will not try to know
What you did so long ago :
There's your breakfast, eat away ;
Come and see me every day.

you think it

CHILD'S BOOK OF POETRY.

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“Oh! call my

brother back to me, I cannot play alone; The summer comes with flower and bee

Where is my brother gone ?

“The butterfly is glancing bright

Across the sunbeam's track,
I care not now to chase its flight-

Oh! call my brother back.

" The flowers run wild-the flowers we sow'd

Around our garden-tree;
Our vine is drooping with its load-

Oh! call him back to me."

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