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It soon began to cling and crawl

Straight up with strong endeavour,
But down it came with a slippery sprawl,
As near to the ground as ever.

Up, up it ran, not a second it staid,
To utter the least complaint,

Till it fell still lower, and there delayed,
For dizzy it was, and faint.

Its head grew steady-again it went,
And travell'd a half-yard higher;
'Twas a delicate thread it had to tread,
And a road where its feet would tire.

Again it fell and swung below,

But again it quickly mounted,

Till up and down, now fast, now slow,
Nine brave attempts were counted.

Sure," cried the king, "that foolish thing
Will strive no more to climb,

When it toils so hard to reach and cling,
And tumbles every time."

But

up the insect went once more,

Ah me! 'tis an anxious minute;

He's only a foot from his cobweb door,
Oh! say, will he lose or win it?

THE KING AND THE SPIDER.

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Steadily, steadily, inch by inch,

Higher and higher he got,

And a bold little run at the very last pinch Put him into his native cot.

"Bravo, bravo!" the king cried out, "All honour to those who try; The spider up there defied despair,

He conquer'd, and why shouldn't I?”

And Bruce of Scotland braced his mind,
And gossips tell the tale,

That he tried once more as he tried before,
And that time did not fail.

Pay goodly heed, all

ye who read,

And beware of saying "I can't.' 'Tis a cowardly word, and apt to lead To Idleness, Folly, and Want.

Whenever you find your heart despair
Of doing some goodly thing,

Con over this strain, try bravely again,
And remember the Spider and King.

ELIZA COOK.

THE ORPHAN.

UPON my father's new-closed grave

Deep lay the winter's snow:

Green now the grass waves o'er his head,
And tall the tomb-weeds grow.

Along life's road no parent's hand
My homeless footsteps led:
No mother's arm in sickness soothed,
And raised my throbbing head.

But other hearts, Lord! thou hast warm'd
With tenderness benign;
And in the stranger's eye I mark
The tear of pity shine.

The stranger's hand by Thee is moved

To be the orphan's stay;

And, better far, the stranger's voice
Hath taught us how to pray.

Thou putt'st a new song in our mouth,
A song of praise and joy;

Oh! may we not our lips alone—

But hearts-in praise employ.

THE CHRISTIAN'S CONFIDence.

To Him who little children took,
And in His bosom held,

And, blessing them with looks of love,
Their rising fears dispell'd:

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To Him, while flowers bloom on the bank, Or lambs sport on the lea;

While larks with morning hymns ascend,
Or birds chant on the tree :—

To Him let every creature join
In prayer, and thanks, and praise:
Infants, their little anthems lisp;
Age, hallelujahs raise!

GRAHAME.

THE CHRISTIAN'S CONFIDENCE.

WHY should I fear the darkest hour,
Or tremble at the tempter's power?
JESUS Vouchsafes to be my tower.

Though hot the fight, why quit the field?
Why should I either flee or yield,
Since JESUS is my mighty shield ?

D

When creature-comforts fade and die,
Worldlings may weep, but why should I?
JESUS still lives, and still is nigh.

I know not what may soon betide,
Or how my wants shall be supplied;
But JESUS knows, and will provide.
Though sin would fill me with distress,
The throne of grace I dare address,
For JESUS is my righteousness.

Though faint my prayers, and cold my love,
My stedfast hope shall not remove,

While JESUS intercedes above.

Against me earth and hell combine,

But on my

side is power divine;

JESUS is all, and He is mine.

SPIRITUAL POETRY.

THE LITTLE CHILD AND THE
NEW YEAR.

THE New Year's morning was gray and still,
And a thin mist hung o'er meadow and hill,
When a fair child rose from her little bed,

And through the lattice put forth her head,

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