I break my pilgrim staff, I lay The angel sought so far away I welcome at my door. The airs of spring may never play Yet shall the blue-eyed gentian look The woods shall wear their robes of praise, And sweet calm days in golden haze Melt down the amber sky. Not less shall manly deed and word Rebuke an age of wrong: The graven flowers that wreathe the sword Enough that blessings undeserved That wheresoe'er my feet have swerved, That more and more a Providence Making the springs of time and sense Sweet with eternal good; That death seems but a cover'd way, Which opens into light, Beyond the Father's sight; That care and trial seem at last, In purple distance fair; That all the jarring notes of life And so the shadows fall apart, And so the west winds play: And all the windows of my heart I open to this day.- Whittier. 2nd Child. They planted herWill she come up next year? 1st Child. No, not so soon; But some day God will call her to come up, And then she will. Papa knows everything; He said she would, before they planted her. Jean Ingelow. 433. CHILD. Death of a WHEN the morning, half in shadow, Not enough of earth for sinning, White arms, made for light caresses, When the morning, half in shadow, Now, the litter she doth lie on, In dreams I see him now; And, on his angel brow, I see it written, Thou shalt see me there!' Father, Thy chastening rod So help us, Thine afflicted ones, to bear, Meeting at Thy right hand, 'Twill be our heaven to find that—he is there. Pierpont. 436. CHILDHOOD. Beauty of 437. CHILDHOOD. Mystery of 'Tis aye a solemn thing to me To look upon a babe that sleeps— The unrevealed mystery Of its Adam's taint and woe, Which, when they revealed lie, Will not let it slumber so.-E. B. Browning. 438. CHILDREN. Benefit of A DREARY place would be this earth Were there no little people in it; The song of life would lose its mirth Were there no children to begin it. No little forms, like buds, to grow, And make the admiring heart surrender; No little hands on breast and brow, To keep the thrilling love-chords tender. No rosy boys, at wintry morn, With satchels to the school-house hasting; No merry shouts as home they rush, No precious morsel for their tasting. Tall, grave, grown people at the door, Tall, grave, grown people at the table; The men on business all intent, The dames lugubrious as they're able; The sterner souls would get more stern, Unfeeling natures more inhuman, And man to stoic coldness turn, And woman would be less than woman. Life's song, indeed, would lose its charm, A doleful place this world would be, 439. CHILDREN. Death and the THERE is a Reaper, whose name is Death, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, 'Shall I have nought that is fair?' saith he; He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves. And many hours I spent in weary toil, Mid burning suns and storms of childish tears, Yet day by day my care seem'd all for nought; A kindly neighbour saw me o'er the wall, And ask'd me why I toil'd so long for nought; 'For thus,' he said, 'thou wilt not work their fall, Nor gain the end for which thou long hast wrought. 'Put in thy plough, then plant the clover seeds, And mark me if I speak thee not the truth: The seeds will grow and choke the hateful weeds To which thy tireless hand hath shown no ruth.' Ah, kindly neighbour, o'er the garden wall, Thou'st taught me what I had much need to know, To fret not at the weeds which grow so tall, I sought the heart-soil of my little child, My sickle now may find a harvest meet, There scattering weeds find scarcely space for root. 441. CHILDREN: not 'lent to us.' 'GOD lent him and takes him,' you sigh; Nay, there let me break with your pain: God's gen'rous in giving, say I, And the thing which He gives, I deny That He ever can take back again. He is ours and for ever! Believe, O father! O mother! look back To the first love's assurance! To give Means with God, not to tempt or deceive With a cup thrust in Benjamin's sack. He gives what He gives. Be content! He resumes nothing given, be sure ! God lend? Where the usurers lent⚫ In His temple, indignant He went And scourged away all those impure. He lends not, but gives to the end, As He loves to the end! If it seem That He draws back a gift, comprehend 'Tis to add to it rather, amend, And finish it up to your dream, Or keep, as a mother will toys Too costly, though given by herself,— Till the room shall be stiller from noise, And the children more fit for such joys, Kept over their heads on the shelf. So look up, friends! You, who indeed Have possess'd in your house a sweet piece You know how one angel smiles there : To be drawn by a single gold hair Of that curl, from earth's storm and despair, Adieu! E. B. Browning. 444. CHILDREN. Thankless How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is, To have a thankless child.-Shakespeare. 445. CHILDREN: their death not to be deplored. 'I was a worm till I won my wings, 446. CHILDREN: their griefs. 449. CHILDREN: why Christ takes them. THE flock stood waiting by the rapid river, And would not cross, Although the shepherd kindly call'd them thither, And fields of green, and verdant hills surrounded The danger still their narrow vision bounded He stretch'd his kindly arms, and gently call'd them- The deep, broad river's rapid stream appall'd them, And mountain fair beyond the darkling river And in the distance, bright, unfading ever, The shepherd took a lamb, and safely bore it, To where the pastures brightly gleam'd before it, Were hush'd. The mother heard its voice of pleading, And, crossing o'er, The flock behind her follow'd in her leading, Unto the shore. O stricken hearts, all torn with grief and bleeding, Ye would not hear, nor follow in His leading So He takes your lambs into His safe keeping, And dark with sorrow's clouds, and sad with weeping, And see beyond the darkly rolling river, Those gone before, And to the fields with verdure green for ever Cross safely o'er.-E. N. Gunniron. 450. CHILDREN'S OFFERING. The THE wise may bring their learning, To offer to the King; What shall we children bring? We'll bring Him hearts that love Him; And young souls meekly striving And the e shall be the treasures We offer to the King; And these are gifts that even The poorest child may bring. We'll bring the little duties We have to do each day; We'll try our best to please Him At home, at school, at play. And better are these treasures To offer to our King Than richest gifts without them; And glory ever be To Christ, the loving Saviour, O Three in One-our King- The praise a child may bring.-C. A. 451. CHIVALRY. 'TIS said 'The age of chivalry is past, That man's nobility is waning fast, That hearts have colder grown, and much more tame, That they regard not love, nor noble fame.' But these are puny critics! vain and weak! For 'tis not so! with each revolving age 'Tis so recorded, and if man not now Go cased in steel with helmet on his brow, |