It soon began to cling and crawl Straight up with strong endeavour, Up, up it ran, not a second it staid, Till it fell still lower, and there delayed, Its head grew steady-again it went, Again it fell and swung below, But again it quickly mounted, Till up and down, now fast, now slow, Sure," cried the king, "that foolish thing When it toils so hard to reach and cling, But up the insect went once more, Ah me! 'tis an anxious minute; He's only a foot from his cobweb door, THE KING AND THE SPIDER. 23 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, That he tried once more as he tried before, 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 Con over this strain, try bravely again, 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, Along life's road no parent's hand But other hearts, Lord! thou hast warm'd The stranger's hand by Thee is moved To be the orphan's stay; And, better far, the stranger's voice Thou putt'st a new song in our mouth, Oh! may we not our lips alone— But hearts-in praise employ. THE CHRISTIAN'S CONFIDence. To Him who little children took, And, blessing them with looks of love, 25 To Him, while flowers bloom on the bank, Or lambs sport on the lea; While larks with morning hymns ascend, To Him let every creature join GRAHAME. THE CHRISTIAN'S CONFIDENCE. WHY should I fear the darkest hour, Though hot the fight, why quit the field? D When creature-comforts fade and die, I know not what may soon betide, Though faint my prayers, and cold my love, 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 THE New Year's morning was gray and still, And through the lattice put forth her head, |