4.-LIFT THE HEART AND BEND THE KNEE.-Mrs. Hemans.

* Child, amidst the flowers at play, while the red light fades away;— Mother, with thy earnest eye ever following silently;-Father, by the breeze of eve called thy harvest-work to leave;-pray !—ere yet the dark hours be; "lift the heart and bend the knee." 2 Traveller, in the stranger's land, far from thine own household band;-Mourner, haunted by the tone of a voice from this world gone ;-Captive, in whose narrow cell sunshine hath not leave to dwell;-Sailor, on the darkening sea; "lift the heart and bend the knee." 3 Warrior, that, from battle won, breathest now at set of sun;--Woman, o'er the lowly slain weeping on his burial plain-ye that triumph, ye that sigh, kindred by one holy tie ;-heaven's first star alike ye see:-"lift the heart and bend the knee."

5.-HOPE BEYOND THE GRAVE.-Beattie.

""Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more;
I mourn! but, ye woodlands, I nourn not for you.
For morn is approaching your charms to restore,
Perfumed with fresh fragrance and glittering with dew.
Nor yet for the ravage of winter I mourn,

Kind Nature the embryo blossom will save;

But when shall Spring visit the mouldering urn?
Oh! when shall it dawn on the night of the grave?"

'Twas thus, by the glare of false science betrayed,
That leads to bewilder and dazzles to blind,

My thoughts wont to roam from shade onward to shade,
Destruction before me, and Sorrow behind.

"O pity, great Father of light," then I cried,

"Thy creature, who fain would not wander from Thee;
Lo, humbled in dust, I relinquish my pride:

From doubt and from darkness Thou only canst free."

And darkness and doubt are now flying away,
No longer I roam in conjecture forlorn ;—
So breaks on the traveller, faint and astray,
The bright and the balmy effulgence of morn.

Sec Truth, Love, and Mercy in triumph descending,

And Nature all glowing in Eden's first bloom!

On the cold cheek of Death smiles and roses are blending,
And Beauty immortal awakes from the tomb.

6. THE TEACHING OF THE BIRDS.-Heber.

'Lo, the lilies of the field, how their leaves instruction yield; hark to Nature's lesson, given by the blessed birds of heaven! Every bush and tufted tree warbles sweet philosophy; "Mortal, fly from doubt and sorrow; God provideth for the morrow! 2 Say, with richer crimson glows the kingly mantle than the rose? Say, have kings more wholesome fare than we, poor citizens of air? Barns nor hoarded grain have we, yet we carol merrily:-Mortal, fly from doubt and sorrow; God provideth for the morrow! 3 One there lives, whose guardian eye guides our humble destiny; one there lives, who, Lord of all, keeps our feathers lest they fall. Pass we blithely then the time, fearless of the snare and lime-free from doubt and faithless sorrow: God provideth for the morrow!"

7.-TO GOD, IN SICKNESS.-Herrick.

What though my harp and viol be
Both hung upon the willow-tree?
What though my bed be now my grave,
And for my house I darkness have?
What though my healthful days are fled,
And I lie number'd with the dead?
Yet I have hope, by God's great power,
To spring-though now a wither'd flower!

8.-MISSIONARY HYMN.-Heber.

From Greenland's icy mountains, from India's coral strand,
Where Afric's sunny fountains roll down their golden sand;
From many an ancient river, from many a palmy plain,—
They call us to deliver their land from error's chain.

What though the spicy breezes blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle;
Though every prospect pleases, and only man is vile?
In vain, with lavish kindness, the gifts of God are strown;
The heathen, in his blindness, bows down to wood and stone.
Can we, whose souls are lighted with wisdom from on high,
Can we to man benighted the lamp of life deny ?
Salvation! oh, salvation! The joyful sound proclaim,
Till each remotest nation has learned Messiah's name!

50.-EVENING.-Fletcher.

Shepherds all, and maidens fair, fold your flocks up; for the air 'gins to thicken, and the sun already his great course has run. See the dewdrops, how they kiss every little flower that is; hanging on their velvet heads, like a rope of crystal beads. See the heavy clouds low falling, and bright Hesperus down-calling the dead Night from underground; at whose rising, mists unsound, damps and vapours, fly apace, hovering o'er the wanton face of these pastures, where they come striking dead both bud and bloom. Therefore, from such danger, lock every one of his loved flock; and let your dogs lie loose without,-lest the wolf come, as a scout from the mountain, and ere day bear a kid or lamb away; or the crafty, thievish fox break upon your simple flocks. To secure yourself from these, be not too secure in ease. So shall you good shepherds prove, and deserve your Master's love. Now, good night! may sweetest slumbers and soft silence fall in numbers on your eyelids; so, farewell!—Thus I end my evening knell.

51.-HOW-D'YE-DO AND GOOD-BYE.-Spencer.

One day Good-bye met How-d'ye-do, too close to shun saluting;

But soon the rival sisters flew from kissing to disputing.

66

Away!" says How-d'ye-do ; your mien appals my cheerful nature :

No name so sad as yours is seen in sorrow's nomenclature.

"Ere How-d'ye-do has tuned each tongue to 'Hope's delighted measure,'
Good-bye on Friendship's ear has rung the knell of parting pleasure!
From sorrows past my chymic skill draws smiles of consolation;
While you, from present joys, distil the tears of separation."

Good-bye replied, "Your statement's true, and well your cause you've pleaded;

But pray, who'd think of How-d'ye-do,' unless 'Good-bye' preceded? How oft,-if at the court of love concealment is the fashion,—

When How-d'ye-do' has fail'd to move, Good-bye' reveals the passion?
"How oft when Cupid's fires decline,—as every heart remembers,—
One sigh of mine, and only mine, revives the dying embers?
Go, bid the timid lover choose, and I'll resign my charter,

If he, for ten kind' How-d'ye-do's, one kind 'Good-bye' would barter!
"From Love and Friendship's kindred source we both derive existence;
And they would both lose half their force without our joint assistance.
"Tis well the world our merit knows, since there is no denying
One half in 'How-d'ye-doing' goes, and t'other in 'Good-byeing !'"

52.-THE FOX AND THE CROW.-Anon.

The fox and the crow, in prose, I well know,
Many good little girls can rehearse;
Perhaps it will tell pretty nearly as well,
If we try the same fable in verse.

In a dairy, a crow having ventured to go,
Some food for her young ones to seek,
Flew up in the trees, with a large piece of cheese,
Which she joyfully held in her beak.

A fox who lived by, to the tree saw her fly,
And to share in the prize made a vow;

For having just dined, he for cheese felt inclined,—
So he went and sat under the bough.

She was cunning, he knew, but so was he too,
And with flattery adapted his plan;

For he knew if she'd speak, it must fall from her beak:
So bowing politely, began :-

""Tis a very fine day ;"-not a word did she say;—
"The wind, I believe, Ma'am, is south;

A fine harvest for peas;" he then look'd at the cheese,
But the crow did not open her mouth.

Sly Renard, not tired, her plumage admired,
"How charming! how brilliant your hue!
The voice must be fine of a bird so divine,
Ah, let me just hear it-pray do!

"Believe me, I long to hear a sweet song."

The silly crow foolishly tries

And she scarce gave one squall, when the cheese she let fall, And the fox ran away with the prize!

58.-THE FOX AND THE CAT.-Cunningham.

The Fox and the Cat, as they travelled one day,

With moral discourses cut shorter the way:

""Tis great," says the Fox, "to make justice our guide !" "How god-like is mercy!" Grimalkin replied.

Whilst thus they proceeded, a Wolf from the wood,

Impatient of hunger, and thirsting for blood,

Rush'd forth-as he saw the dull shepherd asleep-
And seiz'd for his supper an innocent Sheep.
"In vain, wretched victim, for mercy you bleat,
When mutton's at hand," says the Wolf, "I must eat."
Grimalkin's astonish'd!—the Fox stood aghast,

To see the fell beast at his bloody repast.

"What a wretch !" says the Cat, "'tis the vilest of brutes!
Does he feed upon flesh when there's herbage and roots?"
Cries the Fox, "While oaks give us acorns so good,
What a tyrant is this to spill innocent blood !"

Well, onward they march'd, and they moraliz'd still,
Till they came where some poultry pick'd chaff by a mill.
Sly Reynard survey'd them with gluttonous eyes,
And made, spite of morals, a pullet his prize.

A Mouse, too, that chanc'd from her covert to stray,
The greedy Grimalkin secured as her prey.

A Spider that sat in her web on the wall,
Perceiv'd the poor victims, and pitied their fall;
She cried, "Of such murders, how guiltless am I!"
So ran to regale on a new-taken Fly.

54.-BUTTERCUPS AND DAISIES.-Mary Howitt.
Buttercups and daisies-oh, the pretty flowers!
Coming ere the Spring-time, to tell of sunny hours.
While the trees are leafless, while the fields are bare,
Buttercups and daisies spring up here and there!

Ere the snow-drop peepeth, or the crocus bold;
Ere the early primrose opes its paly gold,
Somewhere on a sunny bank buttercups are bright;
Somewhere 'mong the frozen grass peeps the daisy white.

They are hardy flowers,-like to children poor,
Playing in their sturdy health by their mother's door.
Purple with the north-wind, yet alert and bold;
Fearing not, and caring not, though they be a cold!

What to them is weather! what are stormy showers!
Buttercups and daisies are these human flowers!
He who gave them hardships and a life of care,

Gave them likewise hardy strength and patient hearts to bear.