48 THE CHILD IN HEAVEN. Summer flowers will soon be o'er; Little child, now learn of me: THE CHILD IN HEAVEN. A LITTLE child who loves to pray, Shall rise above the sky one day, And sing as angels do; Shall live in heaven, that world above, Where all is joy, and peace, and love. Look up, dear children, see that star, A harp of gold you each shall have, LOVE YOUR LITTLE BROTHER. I HAD a little friend; And every day he crept In sadness to his brother's tomb, And when I ask'd him why, He mourn'd so long and sore, He answer'd through his tears, "Because I did not love him more. "Sometimes I was not kind, Or cross, or coldly spake;" And then he turn'd away, and sobb'd Brothers and sisters are a gift Be tender, good, and kind, And love them in my heart, MRS. SIGOURNEY. TRUST AND TRY. "CANNOT," Edward, did you say? From your lips again be heard. "Cannot," Edward? Say not so. Trust and try-trust and try. 66 Cannot," Strive to walk in wisdom's way. PARTRIDGE. THE PORRINGER. YOUNG Lucy Payne lives on the Village Green, Mary, you know the cottage, I am sure, Under the hawthorn! 'Tis so neat and clean, Though Widow Payne, alas! is blind and poor. They do not want-yet poor as poor may be; God feeds the ravens and His children too: He is our Father, Mary, and will He Not prove Himself a Father kind and true? Ask Widow Payne, and she will tell thee, love, How God, "our Father," always sends their bread; That she and Lucy daily look above, Nor doubt that, day by day, they shall be fed. She plies her needles, and she plies them well, And Lucy never spends an idle hour; On market days their mits and socks they sell, And thus their balls of worsted turn to flour. I pass'd one morning by their cottage door; Lucy was talking to a little child, A ragged thing that lives upon the moor; Its parents leave it to run rude and wild. Hunger had tamed the little wilding thing, Its cheek was hollow, but its air was light; Young Lucy did not know I saw her bring That porringer she keeps so clean and bright. It was her breakfast-all the darling had, Save joy of heart to feel her Saviour's smile; He saw dear Lucy feed that hungry lad, And though the Master's gone, a little while, When He returns, her ear shall hear His voice Repeat those thrilling words we read to-day. Dear Lucy! how her heart will then rejoice To hear her Lord, her gracious Jesus, say, "To ME thou didst it-dwell with me alway." 66 FROM COTTAGE BREAD." FEAR NOT. YEA, fear not, fear not, little ones; That looks with yearning fondness down 'Tis He who guides the sparrow's wing, 'Tis He who clothes the fields with flowers, And pours the light abroad; "Tis He who numbers all your hours, Your Father and your God. |