Sweetly it slept, and long as sweet,
And the child forgot its pain;
In the place where earth and heaven meet
We shall find the child again.
FROM THE DOVE ON THE CROSS."
THE mottled clouds are cast,
O'er half of heaven's dome,
As if the northern blast
Had lash'd them into foam.
And in the shatter'd sky,
And straight against the gust,
The moon rides drearily
With silver turn'd to rust.
Strange sounds come in the wind
Close to my window-pane,
And, rattling all the blind,
Crowd up and die again.
I cannot sleep, for hark!
The wither'd leaves by hosts
Are dancing in the dark,
Like troops of shrivell'd ghosts!
HYMN AFTER A BAPTISM.
Now our work of love is done,
Gracious Lord, by Thee alone,
Can this child through all endure,
And his heritage secure:
May Thy glory ever shine
O'er his path, and prove him Thine!
Keep this flower of heavenly birth
Safe from blast and blight of earth,
Turning ever pure and bright
To the source of life and light:
So hereafter may it rise
To re-bloom in Paradise!
Keep this tender lamb, we pray,
With Thy flock from day to day;
Lead him, by Thy loving arm,
Through all peril and alarm,
To that fold whence none may roam,
Where the spoiler cannot come.
God, whose love doth all things give,
Saviour, through whose grace we live,
Holy Spirit, by whose light
Only know we truth and right,
May Thy three-fold blessing be
On this child we give to Thee.
THE BEST USE OF A PENNY.
COME, listen to me, and I'll tell, if you please, Of some poor little children far over the seas. Their colour is dark, for our God made them thus; But He made them with bodies and feelings
A soul, too, that never will die, has been given, And there's room for these children with Jesus
But who will now tell of such good things as these To the poor little heathen far over the seas?
Little boys in this land are well off indeed: They have schools every day, where they sing, write, and read;
To church they may go, and have pastors to teach How the true way to heaven through Jesus to
Yet, sad to remember, there are few of these
For the poor little heathen far over the seas.
Oh, think then of this when a penny is given,
"I can help a poor child on his way home to
heaven;"
Then give it to Jesus, and He will approve,
Nor scorn e'en the mite, if 'tis offered in love:
And oh, when in prayer you to Him bend your
knees,
Remember the children far over the seas.
LADY WRIOTHESLEY RUSSELL.
THE OLD STONE WALL.
"I Do not like that old stone wall;
And often wish that it would fall,
And in its place there grew a hedge,
Or bank, or ditch with rush and sedge.
I love the banks where wild flowers grow,
And lanes, with bramble, nut, and sloe;
But, oh! I do not like at all
That dreary, weary, old stone wall."
My Maggie dear, a moment, pray,
What's that round patch all fringed and grey;
And that, and that—how came they there?
Come, take this glass, 'twill make thee stare.
Now Maggie, look. "Oh, what a love!
It seems just like a tiny grove;
And this is quite a coral reef;
And this just coming into leaf."
Now ope your eyes and look again,
Without the glass, you'll see them plain.
"Oh, what sweet little mossy clumps!
I thought they only grew on stumps
Of old dead trees, or ruined halls,
But not on these stiff dry stone walls."
But there are other things beside
These lichens, which so love to hide
From those who have no eyes to see
God's beauteous works in things so wee.
But open eyes may well discern
Samples of pretty British fern,
Wallrue and spleenwort, maidenhair,
On that old wall, if scanned with care.
Then, Maggie, haunt the banks and lanes,
The meadow brooks, the heather plains,
The hedge, the dingle, copse and all;
But don't forget the old stone wall!
66
FROM COTTAGE BREAD."
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