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More tranquil than the stillness of the night,
For what is there on earth that I desire,
CLING TO THOSE WHO CLING TO YOU.
HERE are many friends of summer,
Who are kind while flowers bloom,
But when winter chills the blossoms,
Friends of worth are far and few;
Do not harshly judge your neighbor,
When you see a worthy brother
Lend a helping hand fraternal,
Till he reach the shore again; Don't desert the old and tried,
When misfortune comes in view, For he then needs friendship's comforts. Cling to those who cling to you.
DON'T LOOK SAD.
EVER look sad; nothing so bad
As getting familiar with sorrow; Treat him to-day in a cavalier way,
And he'll seek other quarters to-morrow.
Long you'd not weep, could you but peep At the bright side of each trial; Fortune you'll find is often most kind, When chilling your hopes with denial.
Let the sad day carry away
Its own little burdens of sorrow,
HOW TO LIVE.
E liveth long who liveth well!
He liveth longest who can tell
He liveth long who liveth well!
Waste not thy being; back to Him
Be wise, and use thy wisdom well;
How first he lived, then spoke, the true.
Be what thou seemest! live thy creed!
Fill up each hour with what will last;
Sow truth if thou the true wouldst reap;
Sow love, and taste its fruitage pure;
And find a harvest-home of light.
WAITING ON GOD.
CANNOT think but God must know
I know He is so good, so kind,
I cannot think but He will find
Some way to help, some way to show
my hand-it lies so near;
It looks so sweet, it looks so dear;
He only smiles-He does not speak;
Now, Lord, I leave at Thy loved feet
I'll go and work the harder, Lord,
To take this thing so dear, so sweet.
THROUGH all my little daily cares there is
One thought that comfort brings whene'er it comes; "Tiз this-"God knows." He knows, indeed, full well
Each struggle that my hard heart makes to bring
“He knows,” and so I lay me down with trust That His good hand will give me needed strength To better do His work in coming days.
MY NEIGHBOR'S BABY.
CROSS in my neighbor's window,
With the drapings of satin and lace,
I see, 'neath his flowing ringlets,
A baby's innocent face.
Are tapping the polished glass,
Just here in my cottage window,
Sometimes, when the day is ended,