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A MOTHER'S SMILE.
THERE are clouds that must o'ershade us,
There are griefs that all must know, There are sorrows that have made us
Feel the tide of human woe; But the deepest, darkest sorrow,
Though it sear the heart a while, Hope's cheering ray may borrow
From a mother's welcome smile.
There are days in youth that greet us
With a ray too bright to last, There are cares of age to meet us
When those sunny days are past ; But the past scenes hover o'er us,
And give back the heart a while, All that memory can restore us
In a mother's welcome smile.
l'here are scenes and sunny places
On which feeling loves to dwell, 'There are many happy faces
Who have known and loved us well ; But ’mid joy or ’mid dejection,
There is nothing can beguile, That can show the fond affection
Of a mother's welcome smile.
TRUE LOVE AND A HAPPY HOME.
TRUE LOVE AND A HAPPY HOME.
“ Ask what thou wilt,” said a fairy voice,
« Ask what thou wilt of me ;
On land or on the sea.
And what thou wilt I'll grant;
Can I supply thy want."
Then I sat me down and pondered long,
Of what the gift should be,
Should be given but once to me.
Should a worthless chaplet twine
Nor that beauty should be mine.
For these are transient as the dew
Before the burning sun;
Ere morning is begun.
“ Would the height of happiness be ;
“ Is all I ask of thee."
HOME FOR ALL.
THEY tell me there's a fairer home,
A better, purer sphere than this, Where pleasures all immortal bloom,
A lasting home of changeless bliss.
They tell me there's a higher home,
Far from this scene of gloomy fear, Where golden flowers celestial bloom,
Where skies are fair and always clear.
They tell me there's a home of peace,
A fadeless home of glory bright, Unchanging and forever new,
'Mid shining orbs and worlds of light.
They tell me there's a home of rest,
In mansions that are reared above, Where hearts beat true, where mourners find
A heavenly balm of glorious love.
'They tell me of the beauties there,
Rich beauties that will charm the soul, Of countless glories deep and true,
Where streams of pleasure ceaseless roll.
The fount of joy is ever full;
There death will draw no parting tears ; But rills of life roll on and on,
Through all the never-ending years.
Far, far above earth's low deceit,
Beyond the wilds of grief and care, My home, my home, my heavenly home,
'Mid shining orbs, 'tis there ! 'tis there!
WOMAN, dear woman, in whose name
Wife, sister, mother meet,
And thine its latest beat.
An angel form to thee is given:
And lead the soul to heaven.
From thee we draw our infant strength ;
Thou art our childhood's friend;
On thee his hopes depend;
A thousand dear, mysterious ties :
And nurse it for the skies.
THE MAN I LIKE.
I LIKE the man who will maintain
A dignity and grace; Who can be social when there's need,
And always knows his place.
I love the man whose blandest smile
Is seen at home, “sweet home,” Who, when his daily task is o'er,
Has no desire to roam.
I like the man whose piercing glance
Will make the guilty start, As though he had the power to search
His very inmost heart.
I like the man whose generous soul
Pities the orphan's woe; Who never lets the needy one
Unaided from him go.
I'd have him generous, good, and just,
As God made man to be ; The noblest work below the sun
Is such a one as he.
And now I've told you whom I like,
you may think the same; Should Mr. Such-a-one come along,
Then I would change my name.