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For compassion if thou call,
Be compassionate to all;
If thou wouldst affection find,
Be affectionate and kind.
If thou wouldst obtain the love
Of thy gracious God above;
Then to all his children be
What thou wouldst they should to thee.
WHAT throne may bear the eternal God,
Who fills unbounded space?
What palace boast his bright abode,
What world his dwelling-place?
Ye stars, that gem yon glorious vault,
Above, beneath, around!
Who most your Maker's praise exalt,
Through nature's unknown bound;
Ye sons of light, your God's first-born!
Who saw, from distant spheres,
The dawn of this earth's natal morn,
And all its future years;
ye where dwells the eternal God?
What planets bear his feet?
What clustered suns are his abode,
His burning, dazzling seat?
There Is a throne your God will grace,
The pure and lowly heart;
There will he choose his dwelling-place,
And never thence depart.
THE glorious God who reigns on high,
Who formed the earth and built the sky,
Stoops from his throne in heaven to hear
A little infant's prattling prayer.
Father of all my Father too!
O make me good, and just, and true,-
Make me delight to learn thy word,
And love to pray and praise thee, Lord!
O may thy gracious presence bless
And guard my childhood's helplessness!
Be with me, as I grow in years,
And guide me through this vale of tears.
OUR FATHER WHO ART IN HEAVEN.
"OUR FATHER WHO ART IN HEAVEN."
GREAT God, and wilt thou condescend
To be my father and my friend?
I a poor child, and thou so high,
The Lord of earth, and air, and sky!
Art thou my Father? Canst thou bear
To hear my poor, imperfect prayer?
Or stoop to listen to the praise
That such a little one can raise ?
my Father? Let me be
A meek, obedient child to thee;
And try in word, and deed, and thought
To serve and please thee as I ought.
Art thou my Father? I'll depend
Upon the care of such a friend;
And only wish to do, and be,
Whatever seemeth good to thee.
Art thou my Father? Then at last,
When all my days on earth are past,
Send down and take me, in thy love,
To be thy better child above.
THERE sitteth a dove, so white and fair.
All on the lily spray,
And she listeneth how to Jesus Christ
The little children pray.
Lightly she spreads her friendly wings,
And to Heaven's gate hath sped,
And unto the Father in heaven she bears
The prayers which the children have said.
And back she comes from Heaven's gate,
And brings that dove so mild ! —
From the Father in heaven who hears her speak
A blessing on every child.
Then children lift up a pious prayer,—
It hears whatever you say,
That heavenly dove, so white and fair,
All on the lily spray.
TRANS. BY MISS MARY HOWITT.
As children once to Christ were brought,
That he might bless them there,
So now we little children ought
To seek the same by prayer.
And as so many years ago
Poor babes his pity drew,
I'm sure he will not let me go
Without a blessing too.
Then while, this favor to implore,
My little hands are spread,
Do thou thy sacred blessing pour,
Dear Jesus, on my head.
WHAT lovely infant can this be,
That in the little crib I see?
So sweetly on the straw it lies,
It must have come from Paradise.