THE FAIRY'S GIFT. He knows that thou, in all thy pride, Then, with the love of Him who said, Shield from despair that wretched one, 249 SACRED OFFERING. THE FAIRY'S GIFT. O DID you not hear in your nursery Of two young girls that came to drink At a certain fairy well? The words of the younger were as sweet As the smile of her ruby lip; But the tongue of the eldest seemed to move At the well a beggar accosted them, (A sprite, in mean disguise,) The eldest spake with a scornful brow, The younger with tear-dimmed eyes. Cried the fairy, "Whenever you speak, sweet girl, Pure gems from your lips shall fall; 250 DON'T FRET. But whenever you utter a word, proud maid, And have you not met with these sisters oft, The first is GOOD NATURE. Diamonds bright O'er the darkest theme she throws; The last is SLANDER - leaving the blight DON'T FRET. HAS a neighbor injured you? Don't fret: You will yet come off the best; He's the most to answer for, Never mind it, let it rest. Don't fret: Has a wicked lie been told? Don't fret: It will run itself to death, . It will die for want of breath; Don't fret. THANKFULNESS. Are your enemies at work? Don't fret: They can't injure you a whit; If they find you heed them not, Don't fret. Is adversity your lot? Don't fret: Fortune's wheel keeps turning round, Every spoke will reach the top, Which, like you, is going down; Don't fret. THANKFULNESS. SOME murmur when their sky is clear If one small speck of dark appear In their great heaven of blue; And some with thankful love are filled, One ray of God's great mercy gild The darkness of their night. In palaces are hearts that ask, 251 Why life is such a weary task, O HUMBLY take what God bestows, HOPE. THE night is mother of the day, And ever upon old decay The greenest mosses cling. Behind the cloud the starlight lurks; Has left his hope with all. J. G. WHITTIER. NEVER RAIL AT THE WORLD. 252 TWO WAYS. THERE are two ways to live on earth, Some beings, wheresoe'er they go, While others, in the ceaseless round O, happy they who happy make, Who, blessing, still themselves are blest! CHARLES SWAIN. NEVER RAIL AT THE WORLD. NEVER rail at the world it is just as we make it: We see not the flower, if we set not the seed; And as for ill-luck, why, it's just as we take it, — The heart that 's in earnest no bars can impede. |