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The men on business all intent,
And many hours I spent in weary toil, The dames lugubrious as they're able ;
Mid burning suns and storms of childish tears,
To root the weed from out my garden's soil,
Which to the tiller's eye so vile appears.
Yet day by day my care seem'd all for nought ;
In despite of my toil still grew the weeds;
And the free soil for which my hand had sought Life's song, indeed, would lose its charm,
Nowhere I found to plant the goodly seeds. Were there no babies to begin it;
A kindly neighbour saw me o'er the wall, A doleful place this world would be,
And ask'd me why I toild so long for nought ; Were there no little people in it.
'For thus,' he said, 'thou wilt not work their fall,
Nor gain the end for which thou long hast wrought. 439. CHILDREN. Death and the
• Put in thy plough, then plant the clover seeds, THERE is a Reaper, whose name is Death,
And mark me if I speak thee not the truth : And, with his sickle keen,
The seeds will grow and choke the hateful weeds He reaps the bearded grain at a breath,
To which thy tireless hand hath shown no ruth.' And the flowers that grow between.
Ah, kindly neighbour, o'er the garden wall, Shall I have nought that is fair?' saith he; Thou'st taught me what I had much need to • Have nought but the bearded grain ?
know, Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, | To fret not at the weeds which grow so tall, I will give them all back again.'
But haste with liberal hand my seed to sow. He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes,
I sought the heart-soil of my little child, He kiss'd their drooping leaves;
No longer now to rudely pull the weeds ; It was for the Lord of Paradise
With God's own truth I plough'd the fruitless wild, He bound them in his sheaves.
In faith and love I thickly sow'd the seeds.
And now my garden yields me fragrance sweet ; My Lord hath need of these flowrets gay,'
From laden boughs I pluck the golden fruit ; The Reaper said, and smiled;
My sickle now may find a harvest meet, ‘Dear tokens of the earth are they, Where He was once a child.
There scattering weeds find scarcely space for root.
*They shall all bloom in fields of light,
Transplanted by my care ;
These sacred blossoms wear.'
And the mother gave, in tears and pain,
The flowers she most did love ;
In the fields of light above.
Oh, not in cruelty, not in wrath,
The Reaper came that day ; 'Twas an angel visited the green earth,
And took the flowers away.-- Longfellow.
"God lent him and takes him,' you sigh ;
Nay, there let me break with your pain :
That He ever can take back again.
O father! O mother! look back
With a cup thrust in Benjamin's sack.
He resumes nothing given, be sure !
And scourged away all those impure.
As He loves to the end! If it seem
And finish it up to your dream,
440. CHILDREN : how they are to be trained. When the father is too fondly kind, Such seed he sows, such harvest shall he find.
Dryden. I had a garden and a little child,
And in them both there grew so many weeds, So very rank and tall they grew, and wild,
I saw no place to plant the goodly seeds.
444. CHILDREN. Thankless
How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is,
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 Of the heaven which men strive for, must need Be more earnest than others are: speed
Where they loiter, persist when they cease.
You know how one angel smiles there :
Then weep not. 'Tis easy for you
E. B. Browning.
445. CHILDREN: their death not to be deplored. A BUTTERFLY bask'd on an infant's grave
Where a lily had chanced to grow; • Why art thou here with thy gaudy dye? Where she of the bright and sparkling eye
Must sleep in the church-yard low.' Then it lightly soar'd through the sunny air,
And spoke from its shining track : 'I was a worm till I won my wings, And she whom thou mourn'st, like a seraph sings ; Wouldst thou call the blest one back?'
Mrs Sigourney. 446. CHILDREN : their griefs.
The tear down childhood's cheek that flows
442. CHILDREN. Pleasure of
AH! what would the world be to us
If the children were no more? We should dread the desert behind us
Worse than the dark before.
What the leaves are to the forest,
With light and air for food, Ere their sweet and tender juices
Have been harden'd into wood, That to the world are children;
Through them it feels the glow Of a brighter and sunnier climate
Than reaches the trunks below. Come to me, O ye children !
And whisper in my ear What the birds and the winds are singing
In your sunny atmosphere.
For what are all our contrivings,
And the wisdom of our books, When compared with your caresses,
And the gladness of your looks?
447. CHILDREN : their hopes. SELF-FLATTER’D, unexperienced, high in hope, When young, with sanguine cheer, and streamers gay, We cut our cable, launch into the world, And fondly dream each wind and star our friend.
Young 448. CHILDREN. Trust of Now I lay me'-say it, darling;
Lay me,' lisp'd the tiny lips
O'er her folded finger-tips.
And the curly head droop'd low ;
You can say it all, I know.'
Fainter still-My soul to keep,'
And the child was fast asleep.
When I clasp'd her to my breast,
Mamma, God knows all the rest.'
Of the child-heart! Would that I
He who hears my feeblest cry.
Ye are better than all the ballads
That ever were sung or said; For ye are living poems,
And all the rest are dead.- Longfellow.
443. CHILDREN. Teaching
DELIGHTFUL task! to rear the tender thought,
449. CHILDREN : why Christ takes them. The flock stood waiting by the rapid river,
And would not cross,
And banks of moss,
The further shore ;
Of crossing o'er.
They would not heed ;
Though pleasant mead
Rose to their view,
Were pastures new
Within his arms
And all alarms
And, crossing o'er,
Unto the shore.
A Saviour's voice
Of your own choice.
And young souls meekly striving
To walk in holy ways.
We offer to the King;
The poorest child may bring.
We have to do each day ; We'll try our best to please Him
At home, at school, at play.
To offer to our King
Yet these a child may bring.
And glory ever be
Who lived, a child, like me ;
O Three in One-our KingAccept, 'mid angels' praises,
The praise a child may bring.-C. A.
So He takes your lambs into His safe keeping,
'That eyes all dim And dark with sorrow's clouds, and sad with weeping,
May look to Him,
Those gone before,
Cross safely o'er.-E. N. Gunniron.
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! Who think not, care not, only that they speak And the world hear them, and that shallow men Shall echo their weak sentiments again. For 'tis not so ! with each revolving age Man's custom changes, and on history's page 'Tis so recorded, and if man not now Go cased in steel with helmet on his brow, And wear a ribbon from his lady fair, And joust in tournament at court and fair, 'Tis not that he is weaker, or less brave, Less of the courtier, or more of the knave, Less true in love, less noble in his mind, Less strong of will, less of the man, mankind, Less warlike when aroused by taunt or wrong. Still the same creature ; noble, true, and strong; Temper'd by wisdom he has milder grownLearn'd of control what was to them unknown. They strove with others on the bloody field, Bravely and well--at death alone would yield ; We with ourselves must struggle, and the strife Long is and bitter, ending but with life; But if we win, ours is the nobler fame, Better than earthly titles, land, or nameRest, peace, and happiness with God above, In that fair land where all is light and love.
450. CHILDREN'S OFFERING. The
The wise may bring their learning,
The rich may bring their wealth,
And some bring strength and health.
To offer to the King;
What shall we children bring?
We'll bring Him thankful praise,
To make my earthly bliss complete,
Yon glistering shore.
There not alone, But with all saints, the mighty throng, My soul unfetter'd, pure, and strong, Her high communings shall prolong
Before Thy throne. -Ray Palmer.
454. CHRIST. Clinging to
A WISE man likes that best, that is itself ;
Holmes. 453. CHRIST. Alone with ALONE with Thee! alone with Thee !
O Friend Divine !
I call Thee mine.
Now through my breast
And makes me blest.
O Holy Saviour, Friend unseen,
By faith to cling to Thee.
My soul would cling to Thee.
Far from her home, fatigued, oppressid, Here she has found her place of rest; An exile still, yet not unbless'd,
While she can cling to Thee.
Without a murmur I dismiss
Each hour to cling to Thee.
Alone with Thee! alone with thee!
Thy grace more sweet Than music in the twilight still, Than airs that groves of spices fill, More fresh than dews on Hermon's hill,
My soul doth greet.
What though the world unfaithful prove, And earthly friends and joys remove; With sure and certain hope of love,
Still would I cling to Thee.
Oft when I seem to tread alone
Whispers 'Still cling to Me.'
The soul that clings to Thee !
Alone with Thee ! alone with Thee !
In Thy pure light
Pale on my sight.
My soften'd heart
Thou canst impart.
I want no more
They fear not Satan, nor the grave, They feel Thee near and strong to save ; Nor dread to cross e'en Jordan's wave,
Because they cling to Thee. Bless'd is my lot, whate'er befall ; What can disturb me, who appal, While as my Strength, my Rock, my All,
Saviour, I cling to Thee.-Elliott.
455. CHRIST. Confessing
How pleasing is the task !
Beyond what I can ask.
To tell but half the joy ;
And helps me to reply.
Such secrets to declare :
Exposed to open air.
Nor care if thousands hear,—
Nor life is half so dear.
Who knew what once I was,
The Man who bore the cross ?
And not as fancy paints ;
For such have all His saints. -Cowper.
And for whom hath He contended
In a strife so strange and new ? And for whom to hell descended ?
Brothers ! 'twas for me and you !
Punishment for us alone;
Not for His guilt, but our own.
Join'd with penitence and prayer,
In the punishment He bare,
We shall hear the Saviour say,
Spitta, tr. by Massie.
456. CHRIST: for whom He suffered.
WHEREFORE weep we over Jesus,
O'er His death and bitter smart? Weep we rather that He sees us
Unconvinced and hard of heart; For His soul was never tainted
With the smallest spot or stain : 'Twas for us He was acquainted
With such depths of grief and pain. Oh! what profits it with groaning
Underneath His cross to stand ? Oh! what profits our bemoaning
His pale brow and bleeding hand ? Wherefore gaze on Him expiring,
Rail'd at, pierced, and crucified, Whilst we think not of inquiring,
Wherefore, and for whom He died ?
457. CHRIST : for whom He suffered.
O HEAD, so full of bruises !
O great humility !
'Twas suffer'd all for me!
Upon the accursed tree !
'Twas suffer'd all for me!
Hands, bound to misery !
'Twas suffer'd all for me!
*Lama Sabacthani !'
'Twas suffer'd all for me!-Stammers.
If no sin could be discover'd
In the pure and spotless Lord, If the cruel death He suffer'd
Is sin's just and meet reward : Then it must have been for others
That the Lord on Calvary bled, And the guilt have been a brother's,
Which was laid upon His head.
458. CHRIST: His death.
O'ERWHELM'd in depths of woe,
Upon the tree of scorn,
With racking anguish torn.
And feet so tender rend!
His sacred blood descend.