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And God, himself, the garment made
Each several flower is made,
Was not like them arrayed ;-
Has clothed them as ye see:-
THE SALE OF THE PET LAMB OF THE
OH! poverty is a weary thing, 't is full of grief and pain,
It boweth down the heart of man, and dulls his cunning brain,
It maketh even the little child with heavy sighs complain!
The children of the rich man have not their bread to
They hardly know how labour is the penalty of sin;
In all the luxury of the earth they have abundant
young, each one,
Early in the morning they rise up before the rising sun, And scarcely when the sun is set, their daily task is done.
But another curse there is beside, that darkens po
That had a place within their hearts, as one of the family.
But want, even as an armed man, came down upon their shed,
A thousand flocks were on the hills- a thousand flocks, and more,
The father laboured all day long, that his children might be fed ;
And, one by one, their household things, were sold to buy them bread.
Therefore most sorrowful it was those children small to see,
They walk among life's pleasant ways, and never Most sorrowful to hear them plead for their pet so
know a care.
Feeding in sunshine pleasantly, they were the rich man's store;
There was the while, one little lamb, beside a cottage
That father, with a downcast eye, upon his threshold stood,
Gaunt poverty each pleasant thought had in his heart subdued;
"What is the creature's life to us?" said he, "'t will buy us food!
The children of the poor man- though they be "Oh! mother dear, it loveth us; and what beside
"Ay, though the children weep all day, and with down-drooping head
Each does his small craft mournfully!- the hungry must be fed;
And that which has a price to bring, must go, to buy
It went-oh! parting has a pang the hardest heart to wring,
But the tender soul of a little child with fervent love
With love that hath no feignings false, unto each gentle thing!
Few things have they to call their own, to fill their hearts with pride,
The sunshine of the summer's day, the flowers on the highway side,
Or their own free companionship, on the heathy com- "T was vain!--they took the little lamb, and straightmon wide. way tied him down,
Hunger, and cold, and weariness, these are a frightful With a strong cord they tied him fast ;-and o'er the
And o'er the hot and flinty roads, they took him to the town.
"Let's take him to the broad, green hills," in his impotent despair,
Said one strong boy, "let's take him off, the hills are wide and fair;
It may not have one thing to love, how small soe'er The little children through that day, and throughout
all the morrow
I know a little hiding-place, and we will keep him there!"
From everything about the house a mournful thought did borrow;
The very bread they had to eat was food unto their
Oh! poverty is a weary thing, 't is full of grief and pain
A little lamb that did lie down with the children It keepeth down the soul of man, as with an iron chain;
'neath the tree;
That ate, meek creature, from their hands, and nes- It maketh even the little child, with heavy sighs tled to their knee;
THE FAERY OATH.
"THY Voice is weak, thine eyes are dim," The holy father said to him; "The damp of death is on thy brow,What is thy sin ?-confess it now! Confess it ere it be too late;
Is it blood, or pride, or restless hate?"
"I have shed no blood," he thus replied,-
To the faëry people of field and fell,-
'My son," said the friar, "tell to me
How such enchantment fell on thee;
thou hadst sinned, or it might not be."
I watched the lightning's subtle flame;
To the witching airs of the faery horn,
And I heard the sound of their ceaseless feet;
For days and days, with their easy load;
On we went over mountains high,
And roaring waters, we journeyed by;
And through thick woods, where the air was cold:
Where was that land, I cannot say Its light was not like the light of day, Its air was not like the air of earth
"T was the wondrous land where dreams have birth!
As if o'erburthened with melody! —
But then there were frightful, creeping things,
I drank of the cup, and I ate the bread :
I dwelt 'mong the faëries, their merry king,—
I danced on the earth, in the charmed ring;
I learned the songs of awful mirth,
Till thrice seven years, as a day, had sped ; —
To dwell once more among human kind:
He was lean, and crabbed, and old,
His voice was thick, and his prayers were cold,-
I blessed the child from my inmost heart,
Still on she read, sedate and low,
And at every word I was wrung with woe;
And my human heart was shook with dread;
Down I knelt, and I strove to pray,
I have wrestled hard, I have fiercely striven
Thou hast fought the fight-thou hast battled long-Oh! thou undoubting one, who from the tree
Of life hast plucked and eaten, well mayst thou,
And the victor here is not the strong;
With thee, the dead are blest:- they have gone forth,
Thou knowest not whither, but to some fair home, Brighter, far brighter than our summer earth,- Where sorrow cannot come.
It matters not to thee, that angel-guest
Thou knowest that they are!
What marvel, then, that thou shouldest shed no tear, Standing beside the dead, that thou shouldst wreathe
Thyself with flowers, and thy bright beauty wear
Thy faith is knowledge, and without a fear
I will not doubt- like thee I will arise,
And clothe my soul in light, nor more repine That life, and death, and heaven, are mysteries: Thy strong faith shall be mine!
Then may I see the beautiful depart,
The fair flowers of my spring-time fade and die,
A STORY OF THE INDIAN WAR.
"I WAS at William Penn's country-house, called Pensbury, in Pennsylvania, where I staid some days. Much of my time I spent in seeing William Penn, and many of the chief men among the Indians, in council concerning their former covenant, now renewed on his going away for England. To pass by several particulars, I may mention the following: They never broke covenant with any people,' said one of their great chiefs; and, smiting his hand upon his head, he said, 'they made not their covenants there, but here,' said he, smiting on his breast three times.
"I, being walking in the woods, espied several wigwams, and drew towards them. The love of God filled my heart; and I felt it right to look for an interpreter, which I did. Then I signified that I was come from a far country with a message from the Great Spirit (as they call God,) and my message was to endeavour to persuade them that they should not be drunkards, nor steal, nor kill one another, nor fight, nor put away their wives for small faults; for