THANKFULNESS.

I THANK the God who gave me eyes
To see the light

Of sun, and moon, and twinkling stars,
By day and night.

I thank the God who gave me ears,
That I might hear

The sound of music and of streams,
And voices clear.

I thank Him for my useful hands
And nimble feet;

For taste and smell, that I may know
The things I eat.

I thank Him most of all for friends
To know and love,

Who teach me about earth and sea,

And heaven above.

THE ROBIN AND THE CHILDREN.

PLEASE, little Children, be so kind

As not to touch my nest;

The pretty young ones sleeping there
Are what I love the best.

If

you should take my nest away
It will not please you long;

Because you can't be really glad
Of anything that's wrong.

Come here to watch us, now and then,
And see the young ones fed;
When Winter comes they'll visit you,
And wear their feathers red.

*POOR LITTLE TREE.

OH, poor little tree,
How sad it will be

When you are old!
Your leaves will be dead,
All withered and red,
Frost-nipt and cold.

Still, tree, do not grieve,
But wait and believe

Through storm and rain;

Your life is not lost

In the wintry frost;

Spring comes again !

TO A LITTLE SISTER.

SWEET Sister, you are gone away,

And we are left at home; We miss you sadly at our play, But you will never come.

We loved you very tenderly,
You were so young and fair:

And now it is so sad to see
Your little empty chair.

We miss our merry prattling pet,
Our "Rosebud" from our side;

But we will never once forget
God took her when she died.

We saw her lying on the bed, And kissed her quiet brow; "Grieve not too much," our father said, "For she is happy now."

"God called her from her mother's knee,

And from our fond embrace, That she an angel-child might be, And alway see His face."

E

Dear angel, in the soft blue sky,
So lovely, pure, and bright;
We hope that God will let you fly
To watch us in the night.

And we will ask Him every day,
To teach us what to do;
He'll listen kindly when we pray,
And make us good, like you.

And when he chooses that our eyes
In death's still sleep shall close,
Our happy spirits in the sky
Will find our little "Rose."

She 'll know each one of us again, And say, "I'm glad you're come; No parting now, no grief, no pain, For we are all at home."

THE LITTLE NUTTERS.

THREE little creatures of the wood
Go out a-nutting there;

Each knows how he must set to work,
To earn his proper share.

The brisk, brown squirrel, he is one;

He climbs the hazel trees,

There plucks the nuts and cracks them too, Then eats them at his ease.

But little mousie has to wait
Until the nuts are shed;

And then he nibbles through the shells,

Or stores them in his bed.

The pretty nut-hatch is the third;

He is more cunning still;

He fits the nuts into a chink,

And breaks them with his bill.

Some children with their nutting-bags,
Perhaps may chance to see

The squirrel, bird, or little mouse
Beneath the hazel-tree.