"Look on the rising sun,-there God does live, And gives his light, and gives his heat away;

And flowers, and trees, and beast, and men receive Comfort in morning, joy in the noon-day.

"And we are put on earth a little space,

That we may learn to bear the beams of love;
And these black bodies and this sun-burnt face
Are but a cloud, and like a shady grove.

"For when our souls have learnt the heat to bear,
The clouds will vanish, we shall hear his voice,
Saying, 'Come out from the grove, my love and care,
And round my golden tent like lambs rejoice.""

Thus did my mother say, and kissed me;
And thus I say to little English boy,-

"When I from black, and he from white cloud free, And round the tent of God like lambs we joy,

“I'll shade him from the heat, till he can bear
To lean in joy upon our Father's knee;
And then I'll stand, and stroke his silver hair,
And be like him, and he will then love me."

THE BLOSSOM.

MERRY, merry sparrow,

Under leaves so green,
A happy blossom

Sees you, swift as arrow,
Seek your cradle narrow
Near my bosom.

Pretty, pretty robin,

Under leaves so green,
A happy blossom

Hears you sobbing, sobbing,
Pretty, pretty robin,
Near my bosom.

W

THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER.

HEN my

mother died I was very young, And my father sold me while yet my tongue Could scarcely cry "'weep, 'weep, 'weep, 'weep!" So your chimneys I sweep and in soot I sleep.

There's little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head, That curl'd like a lamb's back, was shaved: so I said: "Hush, Tom, never mind it, for when your head's bare You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair."

And so he was quiet; and that very night,

As Tom was a-sleeping, he had such a sight;
That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, and

Jack,

Were all of them lock'd up in coffins of black.

And by came an angel who had a bright key,
And he open'd the coffins and set them all free ;
Then down a green plain, leaping, laughing they run,
And wash in a river and shine in the sun.

Then naked and white, all their bags left behind, They rise upon clouds and sport in the wind; And the angel told Tom if he'd be a good boy, He'd have God for his father and never want joy.

And so Tom awoke; and we rose in the dark, And got with our bags and our brushes to work. Though the morning was cold Tom was happy and warm:

So if all do their duty they need not fear harm.

THE LITTLE BOY LOST.

ATHER! father! where are you going?

FA

O, do not walk so fast.

Speak, father, speak to your little boy,

Or else I shall be lost.

The night was dark, no father was there ;
The child was wet with dew;

The mire was deep and the child did weep,
And away the vapour flew.

THE LITTLE BOY FOUND.

Τ

HE little boy lost in the lonely fen,
Led by the wandering light,

Began to cry; but God, ever nigh,
Appear'd like his father in white;

He kiss'd the child, and by the hand led,
And to his mother brought,

Who, in sorrow pale, thro' the lonely dale, Her little boy weeping sought.

A CRADLE SONG.

WEET dreams, form a shade

SWE

O'er my lovely infant's head;
Sweet dreams of pleasant streams
By happy, silent, moony beams.

Sweet sleep, with soft down

Weave thy brows an infant crown.

Sweet sleep, angel mild,

Hover o'er my happy child.

Sweet smiles in the night
Hover over my delight;
Sweet smiles, mother's smiles,

All the livelong night beguiles.

Sweet moans, dove-like sighs,
Chase not slumber from thy eyes.
Sweet moans, sweeter smiles,
All the dove-like moans beguiles.

Sleep, sleep, happy child,

All creation slept and smiled;
Sleep, sleep, happy sleep,

While o'er thee thy mother weep.

Sweet babe, in thy face

Holy image I can trace.

Sweet babe, once like thee

Thy Maker lay and wept for me.

Wept for me, for thee, for all
When he was an infant small.
Thou his image ever see,
Heavenly face that smiles on thee.

Smiles on thee, on me, on all;
Who became an infant small.
Infant smiles are his own smiles;
Heaven and earth to peace beguiles.

THE DIVINE IMAGE.

O mercy, pity, peace, and love
All pray in their distress;

And to these virtues of delight

Return their thankfulness.