MORNING HYMN.

GOD of mercy and of love,
Listen from the heaven above,
While to Thee my voice I raise,
In a morning hymn of praise.
It was Thine almighty arm
Kept me all night long from harm ;
It is only, Lord, by Thee
That another morn I see.

Lo! the happy light of day
Drives the shadows all away;
Lo! it brings again to sight
All things beautiful and bright.
White clouds sailing in the air,
Little flowers so fresh and fair,
Greenest fields and rippling streams,
Glitter in the morning beams.

Father, keep me all day long
From all hurtful things and wrong;
Make me an obedient child,
Make me loving, gentle, mild.

Hark! the birds are singing gay ;

Let me sing, as well as they,
Praise to Him who reigns above,

For His mercies and His love.

W. H. H. ("Little Poems for Little Readers").

SUMMER-TIME.

I LOVE the cheerful summer-time,
With all its birds and flowers,

Its shining garments green and smooth,
Its cool, refreshing showers.

I love to hear the little birds,
That carol on the trees;

I love the gentle, murmuring stream;
I love the evening breeze.

I love the bright and glorious sun,
That gives us light and heat;
I love the pearly drops of dew,
That sparkle 'neath my feet.

I love to hear the busy hum
Of honey-making bee,

And learn a lesson, hard to learn,
Of patient industry.

I love to see the playful lambs,
So innocent and gay ;

I love the faithful, watchful dog,
Who guards them night and day.

I love to think of Him who made

These pleasant things for me;

Who gave me life, and health, and strength,
And eyes that I might see.

I love the holy Sabbath-day,
So peaceful, calm, and still;
And oh! I love to go to church,
And learn my Maker's will.

ANONYMOUS.

MORNING HYMN.

"TIs God who makes the sun to know His proper hour to rise;

And to give light to all below,

Doth send him round the skies.

When from the chambers of the east
His morning race begins,

He never tires, nor stops to rest,
But round the world he shines.

So, like the sun, would I fulfil
The business of the day;
Begin my work betimes, and still
March on my heavenly way.

Give me, O Lord, thine early grace,
Nor let my soul complain

That the young morning of my days
Has all been spent in vain.

DR. WATTS.

COMMON THINGS,

THE sun it is a glorious thing,
That comes alike to all,
Lighting the peasant's lonely cot,
The noble's painted hall.

The moon-light is a gentle thing;
It through the window gleams
Upon the snowy pillow, where
The happy infant dreams.

It shines upon the fisher's boat,
Out on the lonely sea;

Or where the little lambkins lie,'
Beneath the old oak-tree.

The dew drops on the summer morn
Sparkle upon the grass;

The village children brush them off
That through the meadows pass.

There are no gems in monarchs' crowns
More beautiful than they;
And yet we scarcely notice them,

But tread them off in play.

Poor Robin on the pear-tree sings,

Beside the cottage-door;

The heath-flower fills the air with sweets

Upon the pathless moor.

EASY RHYMES AND

There are as many lovely things,
As many pleasant tones,

For those who sit by cottage-hearths

As those who sit on thrones.

MRS. HAWKSHAWE.

LOVE YOUR LITTLE BROTHER.

I HAD a little friend,

And every day he crept

In sadness to his brother's tomb,
And laid him down and wept.

And when I ask'd him why

He mourn'd so long and sore,

He answer'd through his tears, "Because
I did not love him more.

"Sometimes I was not kind,

Or cross, or coldly spake."

And then he turn'd away, and sobb'd
As though his heart would break.

Brothers and sisters are a gift
Of mercy from the skies;
And may I always think of this

Whene'er they meet my eyes.