Wake, and lift up thyself, my heart,
And with the angels bear thy part,
Who all night long unwearied sing
High praise to the Eternal King.

All praise to Thee, whose arm has kept,
Whose care refresh'd me while I slept;
When from the sleep of death I wake,
May I of endless life partake.

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow;
Praise Him, all creatures here below;
Praise Him above, angelic host;
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!

NOONDAY HYMN.

SOON Shall the ev'ning star, with silver ray,
Shed its mild lustre on this sacred day;
Resume we then, ere sleep and silence reign,
The rites which holiness and heaven ordain.

Still let each awful truth our thoughts engage That shines revealed on Inspiration's page; Nor those blest hours in empty trifles waste Which all who lavish shall lament at last.

O God our Saviour, in our hearts reside;
Thy blood redeems us, and Thy precepts guide;
In life our Guardian, and in death our Friend,
Glory supreme be Thine till time shall end.

And as yon sun descending rolls away,
To rise in glory at return of day;
So may we set, this transient being o'er,
So rise in glory on the eternal shore.

EVENING HYMN.

AT the close of every day,
Lord, to Thee I kneel and pray.
Look upon Thy little child;
Look in love and mercy mild.
Oh, forgive, and wash away
All my naughtiness this day;
And, both when I sleep and wake,
Bless me for my Saviour's sake.

EVENING HYMN.

THOU, from whom we never part,
Thou, whose love is everywhere,

Thou, who seest every heart,

Listen to our evening prayer.

Father! fill our souls with love,
Love unfailing, full, and free,

Love no injury can move,

Love that ever rests on Thee.

Heavenly Father! through the night

Keep us safe from every ill;

Cheerful as the morning light,

May we wake to do Thy will.-E. Lee Follen.

EVENING HYMN.

BEFORE I close my eyes to-night

Let me myself these questions ask :

Have I endeavoured to do right,

Nor thought my duty was a task?

Have I been gentle, lowly, meek,

And the small voice of conscience heard?

When passion tempted me to speak,

Have I repressed the angry word?

Have I with cheerful zeal obeyed
What
my kind parents bade me do,
And not by word or action said

The thing that was not strictly true?

In hard temptation's troubled hour,
Then have I stopped to think and pray,
That God would give my soul the power
To chase the sinful thought away?

O Thou who seest all my heart,

Wilt Thou forgive and love me still? Wilt thou to me new strength impart,

And make me love to do Thy will?—E. Lee Follen.

AN INFANT'S PRAYER.

LORD! teach a little child to pray;

Thy grace betimes impart; And grant Thy Holy Spirit may Renew my infant heart.

For Christ can all my sins forgive,
And wash away their stain,
And fit my soul with Him to live,
And in His kingdom reign.

To Him let little children come,
For He hath said they may;
His bosom then shall be their home,
Their tears He'll wipe away.

For all who early seek His face

Shall surely taste His love;

Jesus shall guide them by His grace,
To dwell with Him above.

Taylor.

THROWING STONES.

WOULD you learn, my little children,
To be very good and kind?
What I tell you pray remember,
What I teach you always mind.

In your play be very careful
Not to give another pain;

If rude children tease and hurt you,
Never do the same again.

If a stone were thrown against you,
And should hit your head or eye,

Don't you know 'twould hurt you sadly?
Don't you think 'twould make you cry?

Never throw a stone or brick, then,
Though you see no creature near;
'Tis a dangerous, naughty practice,
Which all little ones should fear.

Never do like those bad children,
Who are often in the street,
Throwing stones at dogs and cats,
And at anything they meet.

OLD PUSS.

DON'T hurt the poor old cat,
There can be no fun in that;
And it would be cruel too-
She never tried to injure you.

She, for years, has kept the house
Free from thievish rat and mouse;
Puss has always faithful been,
And has kept herself so clean.

True, she now is getting old,

Though she once was strong and bold;
At her prey she cannot leap,

And, if caught, can scarcely keep.

Poor old puss! 'Twould be a shame
Thee for uselessness to blame;

When thou canst not active be-
Useless through infirmity.

THE LITTLE BIRDS, AND THE CRUEL BOYS.

A LITTLE bird built a warm nest in a tree,

And laid some blue eggs in it-one, two, and three,
And then very glad and delighted was she.

So after a while, but how long I can't tell,

The little ones crept, one by one, from the shell;
And their mother was pleased, and she loved them well.

She spread her soft wings on them all the day long, To warm and to guard them, her love was so strong; And her mate sat beside her, and sung her a song.

One day the young birds were all crying for food,
So off flew the mother, away from her brood;
And up came some boys who were wicked and rude.

So they pull'd the warm nest down away from the tree;
And the little ones cried, but they could not get free;
So at last they all died away-one, two, and three.

But when back again the poor mother did fly,
Oh, then she set up a most pitiful cry!

So she mourned a long time and then lay down to die!