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A prattling boy, some four years old,
Her trembling hand embraced,
And from my heart the tale he told
Will never be effaced.

'Mamma, now you must love me more,

For little sister's dead;

And t'other sister died before,
And brother too, you said.

'Mamma, what made sweet sister die? She loved me when we played: You told me, if I would not cry, You'd show me where she's laid.'

"Tis here, my child, that sister lies,
Deep buried in the ground;
No light comes to her little eyes,
And she can hear no sound.'

'Mamma, why cant we take her up,
And put her in my bed?

I'll feed her from my little cup,
And then she wont be dead.

'For sister 'll be afraid to lie

In this dark grave to-night, And she'll be very cold, and cry Because there is no light.'

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No, sister is not cold, my child,
For God, who saw her die,

As He look'd down from Heaven and smil'd,
Called her above the sky.

And then her spirit quickly fled

To God by whom 'twas given; Her body in the ground is dead, But sister lives in Heaven.'

Mamma, wont she be hungry there,
And want some bread to eat?

And who will give her clothes to wear,
And keep them clean and neat?

'Papa must go and carry some,
I'll send her all I've got,

And he must bring sweet sister home,
Mamma, now must he not?'

'No, my dear child, that cannot be ;
But if you're good and true,
You'll one day go to her, but she
Can never come to you.

'LET LITTLE CHILDREN COME TO ME,'
Once our good Saviour said;
And in his arms she'll always be,

And God will give her bread.'

THE SNOW STORM.

THE cold winds swept the mountain's height,
And pathless was the dreary wild,

And mid the cheerless hours of night

A mother wander'd with her child: (k) As through the drifting snow she press'd, The babe was sleeping on her breast.

And colder still the winds did blow,

And darker hours of night came on,

And deeper grew the drifting snow:

Her limbs were chill'd, her strength was gone;

'O GOD!' she cried, in accents wild,

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If I must perish, save my child!'

She stripp'd her mantle from her breast,
And bared her bosom to the storm,
And round the child she wrapp'd the vest

And smil'd to think her babe was warm.

With one cold kiss, one tear she shed,
And sunk upon her snowy bed.

At dawn a traveller pass'd by,

And saw her 'neath a snowy veil;

The frost of death was in her eye,

Her cheek was cold, and hard, and pale;

He moved the robe from off the child,
The babe look'd up and sweetly smiled.

THE POOL OF BETHESDA.

UNTO the holy city came

Judea's hapless sons and daughters, The paralytic, blind and lame,

To seek Bethesda's healing waters The Angel o'er the fountain mov'd With kindly power from day to day; And he that first its virtues prov'd,

Was heal'd, and forthwith went his way.

Amid the throng who waited there,-
Judea's sons and daughters,

--

A patient Hebrew many a year

Had watch'd the troubled waters. And often at the healing hour

He feebly toward the fountain bore him,

But all too late to feel its power,

For one had always stepp'd before him.

A stranger came and look'd awhile
On him who there in anguish lay,
Then kindly said, with holy smile,

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Hebrew, arise and go thy way!'

As forth into the world that hour,

With footsteps light, the Hebrew trod, 'I've felt,' he cried, the Almighty's power, I've heard the voice of God.'

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YOUTH AND OLD AGE.

OLD age came down the steep of years,
Beneath life's burden bending;

With tottering steps he feebly trod,
And breathing sighs and prayers to God,

He met with youth ascending.

Ah, whither dost thou bend thy course?'

Said he whose head was hoary –

'I go,' said youth, to yonder heighth, Where through long vistas, glancing bright Are Honor, Wealth, and Glory.

Be not deceived,' old age replied,

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In vain will be thy toiling;

I long have chased those beaming joys,
Oft grasp'd them, but the fleeting toys
Were from me still recoiling.'

Youth raised his eyes and look'd ahead;
The prospect still was bright-

'I must go on, prevent me not,
For yonder is a sunny spot,

That promiseth delight.'

With joyous bound, he onward went,
His eager course to keep,

And, hope still sparkling in his eyes,
Towards yonder sunny spot he flies,

And struggles up the steep.

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