OUR HEAVENLY FATHER.
Ir was my heavenly Father's love
Brought every being forth;
He made the shining worlds above,
And every thing on earth.

Each lovely flower, the smallest fly,

The sea, the waterfall,

The bright green fields, the clear blue sky— 'Tis God that made them all.

He gave me all my friends, and taught
My heart to love them well,

And He bestowed the power of thought,
And speech my thoughts to tell.

My father and my mother dear,—
He is their father too;

He bids me all their precepts hear,
And all they teach me, do.

God sees and hears me all the day,
And 'mid the darkest night;

He views me when I disobey,
And when I act aright.

He guards me with a parent's care,
When I am all alone;

My hymn of praise, my humble
He hears them every one.

prayer,

God hears what I am saying now,—
Oh, what a wondrous thought!

My heavenly Father, teach me how

To love Thee as I ought.-Eliza Lee Follen.

BIRDIE.

BIRDIE, birdie, quickly come!
Come and take this little crumb;
Go and fetch your little brother,
And be kind to one another.

Birdie, sing a song to me,
I will very quiet be;
Yes, my birdie—yes, I will
Be so quiet, and so still.

Oh! so still, you shall not hear me;
Fear not, birdie, to come near me.
Tell me, in your pleasant song,
What you're doing all day long:

How you pass the rainy days—
Tell me all about your plays.
Have you lessons, birdie? tell-
Do you learn to read and spell?

Or just fly from tree to tree,
Where you will, at liberty-
Far up in the clear blue sky,
Very far, and very high?

Or in pleasant summer hours,
Do you play with pretty flowers?
Birdie, is this all you do?

Then I wish that I were you.

MY GARDEN.

Eliza Lee Follen.

THE various flowers that in the garden grow

Not only please me, but instruct me too;
And while with fresh delight their forms I see,
Each has some lesson, some advice for me.

"Be modest and retired," the Violet says; "Seek not for every man's admiring gaze; Better with me in lowly sweetness hide, Than be a vain obtruding child of pride.”

"Be thankful and content," the Stonecrop cries;
"See what a little can my wants suffice;

E'en on this barren roof I grow and thrive,-
Thus on a little learn like me to live."

"Boast not of beauty," says the blushing Rose;
"To-morrow's setting sun my life will close,
My leaves will scatter in the evening wind;
Like me, at least, some fragrance leave behind."

"Judge not in haste," the Strawberry exclaims; "Wisdom examines ere it harshly blames;

To careless eyes I seem a barren root,

But search beneath, and you shall find some fruit.”

"See," says the Sunflower, "how, from morn till night, I turn towards the sun of life and light;

So turn, from youth to age, with love and fear,
To Him who makes thy comfort still His care."

See," says the clinging Ivy, "though but weak,
A stronger form to twine around I seek;

Seek thou the help of God, so freely given,

That thou, although so weak, mayst climb to heaven."

Thus, the fair flowers that in my garden grow
Not only please me, but instruct me too:

Thus, while with fresh delight their forms I see,
Each has some lesson, some advice for me.

All I feel, and hear, and see,
God of love, is full of Thee.

EARTH, with her ten thousand flowers;
Air, with all its beams and showers;
Ocean's infinite expanse;

Heaven's resplendent countenance-
All around, and all above,

Hath this record: God is love.

Sounds among the vales and hills,
In the woods and by the rills,
Of the breeze, and of the bird,
By the gentle murmur stirred-
All these songs, beneath, above,
Have one burden: God is love.

All the hopes and fears that start
From the fountain of the heart;
All the quiet bliss that lies,
All our human sympathies-
These are voices from above,
Sweetly whispering: God is love.

THE VOICE OF THE GRASS.

HERE I come creeping, creeping everywhere;
By the dusty roadside,

On the sunny hill-side,
Close by the noisy brook,

In every shady nook,

I come creeping, creeping everywhere.

Here I come creeping, smiling everywhere;
All round the open door,
Where sit the aged poor;
Here where the children play,

In the bright and merry May,

I come creeping, creeping everywhere.

Here I come creeping, creeping everywhere;
In the noisy city street

My pleasant face you'll meet,
Cheering the sick at heart
Toiling his busy part-

Silently creeping, creeping everywhere.

Here I come creeping, creeping everywhere;
You cannot see me coming,
Nor hear my low sweet humming;
For in the starry night,

And the glad morning light,

I come quietly, creeping everywhere.

Here I come creeping, creeping everywhere;
More welcome than the flowers

In Summer's pleasant hours;
The gentle cow is glad,

And the merry bird not sad,

To see me creeping, creeping everywhere.