But THOU, too, made that floweret gay The hand that fired the lamp of day, "As falls a sparrow to the ground, By the same law these globes wheel round, CREATION. [Earrest and bold.] Who made the sun that gives his light Who made the moon and stars so bright? Who made this wondrous globe, the earth, Who raised the gloomy clouds so high, Who spoke the word at which the streams Who gave the life with which it teems? "TWAS THE CREATOR-GOD. Who form'd the brutes of varied kind, Who gaily dress'd the pretty flowers, Who raised the trees like stately towers! 90 HAPPINESS. THE GREEN PASTURES BY MRS. DUNCAN. [Earnest and cheerful.] I walked in a field of fresh clover this morn, Where lambs play'd so merrily under the trees, To drink from, when thirsty, or weary with play; That I thought little lambs MUST BE HAPPY ALL DAY. And when I remember the beautiful psalm, That tells about Christ and his pastures so green; And HAPPIER FAR THAN THE LAMBS I HAVE SEEN. A place in his sheep-fold to me HE WILL GIVE. I TRY TO WALK ALWAYS WITH CHRIST FOR MY FRIEND. THE OLD CHAPEL BELL. Within a churchyard's sacred ground, Where they who built the village church Half hidden in the earth, there lies An ancient Chapel Bell. Broken, decayed, and covered o'er Ere Time had cracked its brazen sides, And many a youthful heart had danced To hear its pleasant roundelay, Sung out in merry rhyme; And many a worldly thought been checked A youth-a bright and happy boy- Chanced hitherward to stray, "A soft and shady spot is this!' Anon, a mist fell on his book, The letters seemed to stir, And though, full oft, his flagging sight The mazy page was quickly lost And while he marvelled much at this, And wondered how it came, He felt a languor creeping o'er That gentle voice that named his name Upon his ear so very near And suddenly it fell, Yet soft and musical, as 'twere "Since last I spoke," the voice began, Behoves thee much to hear. "Once, from yon ivied tower, I watched And gave to all their joys and griefs But most are sleeping, now, within "I used to ring my merriest peal "But, chief, my duty was to bid On each returning Sabbath morn, "Ah! well I mind me of a child, A gleesome, happy maid, Who came, with constant step, to church, In comely garb arrayed, And knelt her down full solemnly, And penitently prayed. "And oft, when church was done, I marked That little maiden near This pleasant spot, with book in hand, As you are sitting here— She read the story of the Cross, And wept with grief sincere. "I never rang a merrier peal She stood beneath the sacred porch, And plighted him her maiden troth, "I never tolled a deeper knell They laid her in the churchyard here, "It is thy mother, gentle boy, That claims this tale of mine- A precious flower art thou, my child- GO! BOY, AND LIVE, AS MAY BEFIT The boy awoke, as from a dream, CHRISTMAS BY WASHINGTON IRVING. [Earnest and cheerfully.] There is something in the very season of the year that gives a charm to the festivity of Christmas. At other times we derive a great portion of our pleasures from the mere beauties of nature. Our feelings sally forth and dissipate themselves over the sunny landscape, and we "live abroad and everywhere.' The song of the bird, the murmur of the stream, the breathing fragrance of spring, the soft voluptuousness of summer, the golden pomp of autumn-earth with its mantle of refreshing green, and heaven with its deep delicious blue and its cloudy magnificence |