I wish you could have seen him there; It did my spirit good,

To see the small thing God had made
Thus eating in the wood.

I saw that He regardeth them-
Those creatures weak and small;
Their table in the wild is spread
By Him who cares for all.

CHARLEY AND HIS FATHER.

THE birds are flown away,

The flowers are dead and gone, The clouds look cold and gray Around the setting sun.

The trees with solemn sighs

Their naked branches swing;

The winter winds arise,

And mournfully they sing.

Upon his father's knee

Was Charley's happy place,
And very thoughtfully
He look'd up in his face;

And these his simple words :

66

Father, how cold it blows!

What 'comes of all the birds

Amidst the storms and snows?"

"They fly far, far away

From storms, and snows, and rain But, Charley dear, next May They'll all come back again."

"And will my flowers come too?" The little fellow said,

"And all be bright and new,

That now looks cold and dead?"

"O, yes, dear; in the spring
The flowers will all revive,

The birds return and sing,
And all be made alive."
"Who shows the birds the way,
Father, that they must go?
And brings them back in May,
When there is no more snow?

"And when no flower is seen
Upon the hill and plain,
Who'll make it all so green,
And bring the flowers again?"

"My son, there is a Power

That none of us can see, Takes care of every flower, Gives life to every tree.

"He through the pathless air Shows little birds their way;

And we, too, are his care,

He guards us day by day."

"Father, when people die,

Will they come back in May?" Tears were in Charley's eye,"Will they, dear father, say?"

"No! they will never come;
We go to them, my boy,
There in our heavenly home,
To meet in endless joy."
Upon his father's knee

Still Charley kept his place,
And very thoughtfully

He look'd up in his face.

THE ORPHAN.

"I SAW a little lamb to-day,
It was not very old;
Close by its mother's side it lay-
So soft within the fold:

It felt no sorrow, pain, or fear,
While such a comforter was near.

"Sweet little lamb, you cannot know What blessings I have lost:

Were you like me, what could you do Amid the wintry frost?

My clothes are thin, my food is poor, And I must beg from door to door.

"I had a mother once, like you,
To keep me by her side:

She cherish'd me, and loved me too,
But soon, alas! she died.
Now sorrowful, and full of care,
I'm lone and weary everywhere.

"I must not weep and break my heart;
They tell me not to grieve:
Sometimes I wish I could depart,
And find a peaceful grave.

They say such sorrows never come
To those who slumber in the tomb."

"Twas thus a little orphan sang,
Her lonely heart to cheer:-
Before she wander'd very long,
She found a Saviour near :

He bade her seek his smiling face,
And find in heaven a dwelling-place.

THE FROST.

THE Frost look'd forth, one still clear night,
And whisper'd, "Now, I shall be out of sight;
So through the valley and over the height,
In silence I'll take my way;

I will not go on like that blustering train,
The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain,
Who make so much bustle and noise in vain ;-
But I'll be as busy as they."

Then he flew to the mountain, and powder'd its crest;
He lit on the trees, and their boughs he dress'd
In diamond beads-and over the breast

Of the quivering lake he spread

A coat of mail, that it need not fear
The downward point of many a spear
That he hung on its margin, far and near,
Where a rock could rear its head.

He went to the windows of those who slept,
And over each pane, like a fairy, crept;
Wherever he breath'd, wherever he stept,
By the light of the moon were seen

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