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TEACHERS OF HUMILITY.

The Purple Dead-Nettle.

A

LITTLE herb of dark-red hue
I met with in my walk,—

On sunny bank it verdant grew

In yonder hazel balk.

Not earliest of the spring it blows,

Yet earlier few appear;

Scarce melted have rough winter's snows When it adorns the year.

It is not as a primrose sweet,
Nor as the daisy fair;

It is not as a cowslip neat,-
Its little stem is square.

I know not if an ass or sheep
Will crop it as it feeds;

And men will never care to reap,

But class it among weeds.

G

It is a weed! Then why not throw
The useless thing away,

And in its place let others grow,
More sweet and fair and gay?

No let it be! Despise it not,
For with its homely smiles
It brightens else a barren spot,-
Perchance a care beguiles.

For even this, to please receives
From Him who made it,-power:

I've seen an insect on its leaves,

A bee upon its flower.

REV. J. RICHARDSON.

To the Round-leaved Sundew.

66

B

Y the lone fountain's secret bed

Where human footsteps rarely tread, 'Mid the wild moor or secret glen The Sundew blooms unseen by men ; Spreads there her leaf of rosy hue, A chalice for the morning dew; And ere the summer's sun can rise Drinks the pure waters of the skies.

"Would'st thou that thy lot were given

Thus to receive the dews of heaven

With heart prepar'd, like this meek flower?
Come, then, and hail the dawning hour:
So shall a blessing from on high,—
Pure as the rain of summer's sky,
Unsullied as the morning dew,
Descend, and all thy soul imbue.

"Yes like the blossoms of the waste,

:

Would we the sky-born waters taste,
To the high Fountain's sacred spring,
The chalice let us humbly bring ;

So shall we find the streams of heaven
To him who seeks are freely given:
The morning and the evening dew
Shall still our failing strength renew."

S. M. WARING.

The Lark and Nightingale.

HE bird that soars on highest wing

THE

Builds on the ground her lowly nest; And she that doth most sweetly sing Sings in the shade, when all things rest: In lark and nightingale we see

What honour hath humility.

When Mary chose the "better part,”

She meekly sat at Jesus' feet;
And Lydia's gently opened heart

Was made for God's own temple meet:

Fairest and best adorn'd is she

Whose clothing is humility.

The saint that wears heaven's brightest crown

In deepest adoration bends;

The weight of glory bows him down

Then most when most his soul ascends :

Nearest the throne itself must be

The footstool of humility.

MONTGOMERY.

The Dobe of the Valley.

"But they that escape of them shall escape, and shall be on the mountains, like doves of the valley, all of them mourning every one for his iniquity."

RT thou an emblem, gentle, guileless bird,

Of human hearts lamenting sin and strife? And gladly, as thy low sweet song is heard, Are groaning prayers heard in the land of life?

Yes Heaven, unfrowning, hears each bitter tale The world's proud anger would command to cease; Listens to guilt and grief as in the vale,

To thy blent strain of pensiveness and peace.

Oh, joy! oh, glory! wondrous and yet true,

That softest love with mightiest power may live! Wrath quench its thunderbolts in mercy's dew,

And God receive whom man will scarce forgive!

Then, wounded bird, struck by the archer, Sin,—
Frail, erring, wounded, weary, human heart,
Flee where the Healer waits to take thee in;
But, oh, from earth's dark vale depart,-depart!

M. J. JEWSBURY.

R

Robins, and their Song.

OBIN, to the bare bough clinging,

What can thy blithe music mean?
Like a hidden fount, thy singing
Seems to clothe the trees with green.

What warm nest for thee hath nature
Where thy soft red breast to lay?
Sing'st thou, little homeless creature,
For the crumbs we strewed to-day?

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