Hush for his hosts, unseen,
Are watching over thee;
His angels spread their wings,
Thy shelter kind to be.
Wilt thou, with words profane,
Rash and undutiful,
Scatter thine angel-guards,
Glorious and beautiful?
Honor God's holy name:
Speak it with thought and care; Sing it in holy hymns;
Breathe it in earnest prayer.
But not with sudden cry,
In thy light joy or pain: God will hold guilty all
Who take his name in vain!
WHEN a foolish thought within
Tries to take us in a snare,
Conscience tells us, "It is sin,"
And entreats us to beware.
If in something we transgress,
And are tempted to deny,
Conscience says, "Your fault confess;
Do not dare to tell a lie."
In the morning when we rise,
And would fain omit to pray,
"Child, consider," Conscience cries;
"Should not God be sought to-day?"
When, within His holy walls,
Far abroad our thoughts we send,
Conscience often loudly calls,
And entreats us to attend.
When our angry passions rise,
Tempting to revenge an ill;
"Now subdue it," Conscience cries;
"Do command your temper still."
Thus, without our will or choice,
This good monitor within,
With a secret warning voice,
Tells us to beware of sin.
But if we should disregard
While this friendly voice would call,
Conscience soon will grow so hard
That it will not speak at all.
THE wind blows down the largest tree,
And yet the wind I cannot see.
Playmates far off, that have been kind,
My thought can bring before my mind;
The past by it is present brought,
And yet I cannot see my thought.
The charming rose perfumes the air,
Yet I can see no perfumes there.
Blithe robin's notes how sweet, how clear,
From his small bill they reach my ear!
And whilst upon the air they float,
I hear, yet cannot see a note.
When I would do what is forbid,
By something in my heart I'm chid;
When good I think, then quick and pat
The something says, "My child, do that."
When I too near the stream would go,
So pleased to see the waters flow,
That something says, without a sound,
"Take care, dear child! you may be drowned."
And for the poor whene'er I grieve,
That something says, "A penny give."
Thus spirits good and ill there be,
Although invisible to me:
Whate'er I do, they see me still.
Then, O good Spirits! guide my will.
How long sometimes a day appears!
And weeks, how long are they!
Months move as slow as if the years
Would never pass away.
But even years are flecting by,
And soon must all be gone;
For day by day, as minutes fly,
Eternity comes on.
Days, months, and years must have an end:
Eternity, has none!
"T will always have as long to spend
As when it first begun.
Great God! although we cannot tell
How such a thing can be,
We humbly pray that we may dwell
That long, long time with thee.
YON butterfly, whose airy form
Flits o'er the garden-wall,
Was once a little crawling worm,
And could not fly at all.
The little worm was then enclosed
Within a shell-like case,
And there it quietly reposed
Until its change took place.
And now on red and purple wings
It roves, as free as air,
Visiting all the lovely things
That make the earth so fair.
And we if humbly we behave,
And do the will of God,
And strive to follow, to our grave,
The paths the saints have trod -
Shall find a change more glorious far
Than that which came to light,
When, bursting through its prison bar,
The butterfly took flight.
Through Christ, who reigns above the skies,
To us it will be given
Aloft on angels' wings to rise,
And taste the joys of heaven.
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