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Who taught my infant heart to pray,
And can I ever cease to be
Ah! no, the thought I cannot bear ;
When thou art feeble, old, and grey.
For God who lives above the skies,
in his eyes, If I should ever dare despise,
My Mother. JANE TAYLOR.
When Samuel heard in still midnight,
Speak, Lord ! thy servant heareth thee."
Even such a voice I too may hear ;
All that I learn can tell of God;
Within, without, above, around,
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
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 ;
To receive your spirit there,
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.