CHRIST'S TEACHINGS. The birds, they are like children 17 CHRIST'S TEACHINGS. FROM everything our Saviour saw The reed, that trembles in the wind; The sheep, that need the shepherd's care; The pearls, that deep in ocean lie; CAROLINE FRY. HEAVEN. "OH! is there a mansion for me, Mamma? And is there a mansion for you? And is there a mansion for dear Papa? And for brothers and sisters too? And will there be no more sickness or pain, And no more want or wo? Oh! Mamma, will you tell me once again? "There's a mansion for every one, my child, And sickness and sorrow shall never come In that bright abode to dwell; And sin dare not enter that happy home, WHEN IS THE TIME TO DIE? I ASK'D the glad and happy child Whose hands were fill'd with flowers, Whose silvery laugh rung free and wild Among the vine-wreathed bowers; I cross'd her sunny path, and cried, "When is the time to die ?". "Not yet, not yet,” the child replied, I ask'd the maiden; back she threw Grief's traces o'er her cheeks I knew, "Not now," she cried, "oh, no! not now! Youth is no time to die." I ask'd a mother, as she press'd In quivering tones her accents came, 66 I question'd one in manhood's prime His brow was furrow'd not by time, eye, "Talk not to me of death," he cried, I question'd age, for whom the tomb I ask'd a Christian-" Answer thou; He spoke the language of his soul "My Master's time is mine." LEISURE HOUR. THE KING AND THE SPIDER. KING Bruce of Scotland flung himself down In a lonely mood to think; 'Tis true he was monarch, and wore a crown, But his heart was beginning to sink. For he had been trying to do a great deed, To make his people glad, He had tried, and tried, but couldn't succeed, And so he became quite sad. He flung himself down in low despair, As grieved as man could be; And after a while as he ponder'd there, "I'll give it all up," said he. Now just at the moment a spider dropp'd, With its silken cobweb clue, And the king in the midst of his thinking stopp'd To see what the spider would do. 'Twas a long way up to the ceiling dome, And it hung by a rope so fine, That how it would get to its cobweb home, King Bruce could not divine. |