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Who taught my infant heart to pray,
And love God's holy book and day,
And taught me wisdom's pleasant way?

My Mother.

And can I ever cease to be
Affectionate and kind to thee,
Who wast so very kind to me?

My Mother.

Ah! no, the thought I cannot bear ;
And if God please my life to spare,
I hope I shall reward thy care,

My Mother.

When thou art feeble, old, and grey.
My healthful arm shall be thy stay,
And I will soothe thy pain away,

My Mother.

For God who lives above the skies,
Would look with

vengeance

in his eyes, If I should ever dare despise,

My Mother. JANE TAYLOR.

SAMUEL.

When Samuel heard in still midnight,
A voice amid God's presence bright;
He rose and said on bended knee,

Speak, Lord ! thy servant heareth thee."

Even such a voice I too may hear ;
Even such a light my soul may cheer ;
For Scripture words by God are given,
And conscience is a ray from Heaven.

All that I learn can tell of God;
The bible best ; 'tis God's own word ;
But men and books, each star and flower,
Can tell me of him more and more.

Within, without, above, around,
I'll listen for the holy sound;
And still my ardent prayer shall be,
“Speak; for thy servant heareth thee.”

Miss MARTINEAU. STARS.

STARS, that on your wondrous way

Travel through the evening sky, Is there nothing you can say

To such a little child as I ? Tell me, for I long to know, Who has made you sparkle so ?

Yes, methinks I hear you say,

“ Child of mortal race attend : While we run our wondrous way, Listen, we would be

your

friend ; Teaching you that Name Divine, By whose mighty word we shine.

“ Child, as truly as we roll

Through the dark and distant sky, You have an immortal soul,

Born to live when we shall die ; Suns and planets pass away : Spirits never can decay.

“ When some thousand years at most,

All their little time have spent, One by one our sparkling host,

Shall forsake the firmament; We shall from our glory fall : You must live beyond us all.

“Yes, and God who bade us roll,

God, who hung us in the sky, Stoops to watch an infant's soul,

With a condescending eye ; And esteems it dearer far, More in value than a star.

“Oh! then, while your breath is given,

Let it rise in fervent prayer ;
And beseech the God of Heaven,

To receive your spirit there,
Like a living star to blaze
Ever to your Saviour's praise."

JANE TAYLOR. HARVEST-FIELD FLOWERS.

Come down into the harvest fields

This Autumn morn with me; For in the pleasant autumn fields

There's much to hear and see. On yellow slopes of waving corn

The autumn sun shines clearly ; And 'tis joy to walk, on days like this,

Among the bearded barley.

Within the sunny harvest fields

We'll gather flowers enow; The poppy red and the marigold,

And the bugles brightly blue; We'll gather the white convolvulus,

That opes in the morning early; With a cluster of nuts, an ear of wheat,

And an ear of the bearded barley.

Bright over the golden fields of corn

Doth shine the autumn sky; So let's be merry while we may,

For time goes hurrying by.

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