All Gracious, grant to those who bear
A mother's charge, the strength and light
To lead the steps that own their care
In ways of love and truth and right.

W. C. BRYANT.

For the Boatman of Heidelberg.

(FOR THE BOATMEN,

AS THEY APPROACH THE RAPIDS BY HEIDELBERG.)

ESU, bless our slender boat,

By the current swept along;

Loud its threatenings, let them not

Drown the music of a song

Breathed, Thy mercy to implore

Where these troubled waters roar.

Saviour, for our warning, seen

Bleeding on that precious rood,-
If while through the meadows green
Gently wound the peaceful flood,

We forgot Thee,-do not Thou
Disregard Thy suppliants now!

Hither, like yon ancient tower
Watching o'er the river's bed,
Fling the shadow of Thy power,-
Else we sleep among the dead:
Thou who trod'st the billowy sea,
Shield us in our jeopardy.

Guide our bark among the waves;

Through the rocks our passage smooth; Where the whirlpool frets and raves, Let Thy love its anger soothe;

All our hope is placed in Thee:

Miserere Domine !

W. WORDSWORTH.

T

A Voice from Little Things.

HE flower is small that decks the field,

The bee is small that bends the flower; But flower and bee alike may yield Food for a thoughtful hour.

Essence and attributes of each

For ends profound combine;

And all they are, and all they teach,
Springs from the mind Divine.

Is there who scorneth little things? .
As wisely might he scorn to eat
The food that bounteous autumn brings
In little grains of wheat.

Methinks, indeed, that such an one
Few pleasures upon earth will find,
Where well nigh every good is won
From little things combined.

The lark that in the morning air

Amid the sunbeams mounts and sings, What lifted her so lightly there?

Small feathers in her wings.

Oh, say what forms the beauteous dyes
With which all nature oft is bright,—
Meadows and streams, woods, hills and skies?
Minutest waves of light.

And when the earth is sere and sad

From summer's over fervid reign,

How is she in fresh beauty clad?

By little drops of rain.

Yea, and the robe that Nature weaves,

?

Whence does it every robe surpass From floweret small, from little leaves,

And little blades of grass.

Oh, sure, who scorneth little things,
If he were not a thoughtless elf,
Far above all that round him springs,

Would scorn his little self!

THOMAS DAVIS.

To my Grandchildren.

M

Y blessing on you, little babes,
By whom I think it good
To find in these my fading days

My dearest days renewed.

Oh, bless you, bless you,

little babes,

Two little fairy gleams,
Who mix this twilight of my life
With happy morning dreams!

Oh, bless, and bless, and dearly bless
The little round blue eyes,

In which these old eyes love to watch
The half-thoughts gleam and rise!

Oh, gracious little lives, in which
Two dearer lives are blent,
We bless your coming, and we bless
The precious love that sent!

The love that leads us in its hand,
That loves us even in sighs,

And bids to light our downward road
These little twinklers rise.

"Be Careful for Nothing."

"Be careful for nothing; but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto God."

H

AST thou within a care so deep,

It chases from thine eyelids sleep?
To thy Redeemer take that care,

And change anxiety to prayer.

Hast thou a hope with which thy heart
Would almost feel it death to part?
Entreat thy God that hope to crown,
Or give thee strength to lay it down.

Hast thou a friend whose image dear
May prove an idol worshipped here?
Implore the Lord that nought may be
A shadow between heaven and thee.