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Let love, in one delightful stream,

Through every bosom flow;
And union sweet, and dear esteem

In every action glow.

Love is the golden chain that binds

The happy souls above;
And he's an heir of heaven that finds

His bosom glow with love.

PRAYER.

WAKE, little child, the morn is gay,

The air is fresh and cool;
But pause awhile, and kneel to pray
Before you go to merry play,

Before you go to school.

Kneel down and speak the holy words ;

God loves your simple prayer Above the sweet songs of the birds, The bleating of the gentle herds,

The flowers that scent the air.

And when the quiet evenings come,

And dew-drops wet the sod,

When bats and owls begin to roam,
And flocks and herds are driven home,

Then kneel again to God.

Because you need Him day and night,

To shield you with His arm;
To help you always to do right,
To feed your soul and give it light,

And keep you safe from harm.

THE SABBATH BELL.

“ COME, Willie, come—the sun shines bright,

And lovely is the day;
The shower that fell but yesternight,

E'en now has passed away.

“The morning air, no longer chill,

Of Spring's approach doth tell; And, echoed by each answering hill,

I hear the Sabbath bell.

“Its silvery tones, so sweet and clear,

Swell on the stilly air;

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“ 'Tis very, very pleasant here,

With the sun so bright and warm ; The little lambs are frisking near,

As if they feared no harm.

“The blue-bird flies from tree to tree,

The sparrows hop around; The yellow crocus, too, I see,

Just peeping through the ground.

“I'm sure you need not fear for me,

With brother I will play ;
You 'll see how very good I'll be,
If
you

will let me stay."

“My child, 't is God who bids you come,

This is His holy day ;
We may not spend His time at home,

In listlessness or play.

“O, come-ere His displeasure falls ;

His favor let us seek;
A well-spent Sabbath ever calls

For blessings on the week.

“ Willie, I know that gathering tear

A contrite heart doth tell; O, ever lend a listening ear

To the sweet Sabbath bell."

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“I'm very, very lonely,

Alas, I cannot play ;
I am so sad, I sit and weep

Throughout the livelong day.
I miss dear mother's welcome,

Her light hand on my head,
Her look of love, her tender word;

Alas, my mother's dead !

I have no heart to play alone;

To-day I thought I'd try,
And got my little hoop to roll,

But ah, it made me cry;
For who will smile to see me come,

Now mother dear has gone,
And look so kindly in my face,

And kiss her little son ?

I'll get my blessed Bible,

And sit me down and read :
My mother said that precious book

Would prove a friend in need.
I seem to see dear mother. now,

To hear her voice of love;
She may be looking down on me,

From her bright home above.

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