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VIOLETS.

"The wayside violet,

That shines unseen, and were it not

For its sweet breath, would be forgot."

NDER the green hedges, after the

snow,

There do the dear little violets grow,
Hiding their modest and beautiful

heads

Under the hawthorn in soft mossy

beds.

Sweet as the roses, and blue as the sky,

Down there do the dear little violets lie, Hiding their heads where they scarce may be

seen;

By the leaves you may know where the violet hath been.

THE SKY-LARK.

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THE SKY-LARK.

ETHEREAL minstrel! pilgrim of the sky!

Dost thou despise the earth, where cares abound; Or, while thy wings aspire, are heart and eye

Both with thy nest, upon the dewy ground? Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will, Those quivering wings composed, and music still !

To the last point of vision, and beyond,

Mount, daring warbler! that love-prompted strain, (Twixt thee and thine a never-failing bond,)

Thrills not the less the bosom of the plain; Yet might'st thou seem, proud privilege! to sing, All independent of the leafy Spring.

Leave to the nightingale the shady wood;
A privacy of glorious light is thine,
Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood
Of harmony, with rapture more divine:

Type of the wise, who soar-but never roam,
True to the kindred points of heaven and home.

BIRD of the wilderness,

Blithesome and cumberless,

Light be thy matin o'er moorland and lea!
Emblem of happiness!

Bless'd is thy dwelling-place!

O, to abide in the desert with thee!

Wild is thy lay and loud,
Far in the downy cloud ;

Love gives it energy, love gave it birth.
Where, on thy dewy wing,

Where art thou journeying?

Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth.

O'er fell and fountain sheen,

O'er moor and mountain green,

O'er the red streamer that heralds the day;
Over the cloudlet dim,

Over the rainbow's rim,

Musical cherub, hie, hie thee away!

Then when the gloaming comes,

Low in the heather-blooms,

Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be!
Emblem of happiness!

Bless'd is thy dwelling-place!

O, to abide in the desert with thee!

ON GLADNESS IN SPRING.

IN the opening of the Spring, when all Nature begins to recover herself, the same animal pleasure which makes the birds sing, and the whole brute creation rejoice, rises very sensibly in the heart of man. I would have my readers endeavour to moralize this natural pleasure of the soul, and to improve this vernal delight, as Milton calls it, into a Christian virtue. When we find ourselves inspired with this pleasing

THE REVIVING INFLUENCE OF SPRING.

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instinct, this secret satisfaction and complacency, arising from the beauties of the creation, let us consider to whom we stand indebted for all these entertainments of sense, and who it is that thus opens His hand and fills the world with good. The apostle instructs us to take advantage of our present temper of mind, to graft upon it such a religious exercise as is particularly conformable to it, by that precept which advises those who are sad to pray, and those who are merry to sing psalms. The cheerfulness of heart which springs up in us from the survey of Nature's works, is an admirable preparation for gratitude. The mind has gone a great way towards praise and thanksgiving that is filled with such a secret gladness. A grateful reflection on the Supreme Cause who produces it, sanctifies it in the soul, and gives it its proper value. Such a habitual disposition of mind consecrates every field and wood, turns an ordinary walk into a morning or evening sacrifice, and will improve those transient gleams of joy, which naturally brighten up and refresh the soul on such occasions, into an inviolable and perpetual state of bliss and happiness.

THE REVIVING INFLUENCE OF SPRING.

FAIR is the face of Spring,

When rural songs and odours wake the morn,
To every eye; but how much more to his,
Round whom the bed of sickness long diffused
Its melancholy gloom! how doubly fair,
When first with fresh-born vigour he inhales
The balmy breeze, and feels the blessèd sun,
Warm at his bosom, from the springs of life
Chasing oppressive damps and languid pain.

HYMN FOR MARCH.

"He arose, and rebuked the winds and the sea; and there was a great calm.” St. Matthew viii. 26.

THE billows swell, the winds are high,
Clouds overcast my wintry sky;

Out of the depths to Thee I call,

My fears are great, my strength is small.

O Lord, the pilot's part perform,

And guide and guard me through the storm;
Defend me from each threatening ill,

Control the waves, say,

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Peace, be still!"

Amidst the roaring of the sea

My soul still hangs her hopes on Thee;
Thy constant love, Thy faithful care
Is all that saves me from despair.

Dangers of every shape and name
Attend the followers of the Lamb,
Who leave the world's deceitful shore,

And leave it to return no more.

Though tempest-tossed, and half a wreck;
My Saviour through the floods I seek:
Let neither winds nor stormy main
Force back my shattered bark again!

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