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There is a flower, a little flower,
With silver crest (1) and golden eye,
And weathers every sky.
In gay but quick succession shine,
They flourish and decline.
While moon and stars their courses run,
Companion of the sun.
To sultry August spreads its charms;
And twines December's arms. (1) Crest-plume, head, or top. I (2) Wreathes—adorns.
All poets have sung the praises of this small but beautiful flower. In the north it is called Bairnwort, because it is loved by children. The Daisy is not relished by cattle, and is disliked even by geese. Its leaves were in former times considered a valuable application to wounds. Its Latin name is Bellis perennis ;-the French term it La petite Marguerite.
THE FIRST GRIEF.
Oh! call my brother back to me,
I cannot play alone:
Where is my brother gone ?
The butterfly is glancing bright
Across the sunbeam's track;
Oh! call my brother back.
Around our garden tree;
Oh! call him back to me.
He may not come to thee;
On earth no more thou'lt see!
Such unto him was given;
Thy brother is in heaven!”
And must I call in vain;
Will he not come again ?
Are all our wand'rings o'er ?
A little girl is supposed to have lost her brother, but she does not at first understand that he is dead that he will never come back to her again. The last verse is singularly beautiful. How often can we apply the last lines of the closing verse to many a dear relative and friend, now gone to their last home, who when with us we did not sufficiently love, and of whom we have afterwards bitterly said,
Oh! that we had loved them more. Let then these few verses teach you to love more devotedly your parents, relatives and friends, so that this bitter regret may not pain you when they are gone.
AN EVENING HYMN.
And now another day is gone,
I'll sing my Maker's praise ;
His providence and grace.
My sins how great their sum!
And strength for days to come.
Let angels guard my head;
Their watch around my bed.
Since thou wilt not remove;
Rejoicing in thy love. This Evening hymn might be learnt by every little boy, and girl, and repeated in the evening of each day. Let them not only remember it in their minds, and say it by their lips, but keep it in their hearts, and apply it to their lives. After praying to our Heavenly Father, our hearts will be lighter, and depend upon it our sleep will be more refreshing to the body.
IT IS A PLEASANT DAY.
Come, my children, come away,
Everything is laughing, singing,
Bring the hoop, and bring the ball,
Who taught the bird to build her nest
Of wool, and hay, and moss ? Who taught her how to weave it best,
And lay the twigs across ?
Who taught the busy bee to fly
Among the sweetest flowers; And lay her store of honey by,
To eat in winter hours ?
Who taught the little ant the way
Her narrow hole to bore ;
To gather up her store ?
'Twas God, who taught them all the way,
And gave their little skill;
God in his infinite wisdom gave the bird an instinct or inward faculty, by which at certain seasons it builds its beautiful nest, oftentimes of the commonest materials, which it endows with warmth suited to the "little nestlings" which are afterwards to make their appearance. The same Almighty Being likewise taught the busy bee to construct its wondrous cell, for receiving the honey which it culls from the flowers of the field, and thus through all His works, the simplest as well as the highest, the greatest perfection and beauty are to be seen.
There's not a leaf within the bower;
There's not a bird upon the tree;
But bears the impress, (1) Lord ! of thee.
Thy hand the varied leaf designed,
And gave the bird its thrilling (2) tone ;
Till, like the diamond's blaze they shone.
Yes; dew-drops, leaves and birds, and all,
The smallest, like the greatest things,
Alike proclaim the King of Kings.
(1) Impress-mark, stamp.