28

The Young Soldier.

And brought the cap she had lined with silk,
And strapped his knapsack on,

And her heart, though it bled, was proud as she said,
"You would hardly know our John!"

Another year, and the roses

Were bright on the bush by the door;
And into the house ran Lettice,

Her pale cheeks glad once more.

"O mother! news has come to day!
'Tis flying all about;

Our Johnny's regiment, they say,
Is all to be mustered out!

"O mother, you must buy me a dress,
And ribbons of blue and buff!
O what shall we say to make the day
Merry and mad enough!

"The brightest day that ever yet
The sweet sun looked upon,
When we shall be dressed in our very best
To welcome home our John!"

So up and down ran Lettice,

And all the farmstead rung

With where would he set his bayonet,

And where his cap would be hung!

And the mother put away her look

Of weary, waiting gloom,

And a feast was set and the neighbours met
To welcome Johnny home.

The good old father silent stood,

With his eager face at the pane,

And Lettice was out at the door to shout

When she saw him in the lane.

And by and bye, a soldier

Came o'er the grassy hill;

It was not he they looked to see,
And every heart stood still.

He brought them Johnny's knapsack,

'Twas all that he could do,

And the cap he had worn begrimed and torn,

With a bullet-hole straight through.

Good Heart and Willing Hand.

GOOD HEART AND WILLING HAND.

A SONG FOR THE WORKERS.

C. MACKAY, LL.D.

N storms or shine, two friends of mine

Isto forth to work or play,

And when they visit poor men's homes
They bless them by the way.

'Tis willing hand! 'tis cheerful heart!
The two best friends I know;

Around the hearth come joy and mirth

Where'er their faces glow.

29

Come shine-'tis bright! Come dark-'tis light
Come cold, 'tis warm ere long;

So heavily fall the hammer stroke !

Merrily sound the song.

Who falls may stand, if good right hand
Is first, not second best;

Who weeps may sing, if kindly heart
Has lodging in his breast.

The humblest board has dainties pour'd,
When they sit down to dine;

The crust they eat is honey sweet,

The water good as wine.

They fill the purse with honest gold;
They lead no creature wrong;
So heavily fall the hammer stroke!
Merrily sound the song.

Without these twain the poor complain

Of evils hard to bear,

But with them poverty grows rich,

And finds a loaf to spare!

Their looks are fire, their words inspire,
Their deeds give courage high;

About their knees the children run,
Or climb, they know not why.
Who sails, or rides, or walks with them,
Ne'er finds the journey long;

So heavily fall the hammer stroke!

Merrily sound the song!

(By kind permission of the Author.

80

They didn't Think.

THEY DIDN'T THINK.

NCE a trap was baited
With a piece of cheese;
It tickled so a little mouse
It almost made it sneeze;
An old rat said, "There's danger;
Be careful where you go."
"Nonsense!" said the other,

"I don't think you know!"
So he walked in boldly-
Nobody in sight;
First he took a nibble,
Then he took a bite;
Closed the trap together,
Snapped as quick as wink,
Catching mousey fast there,
'Cause he "didn't think."

Once there was a robin,
Lived outside the door,
Who wanted to go inside
And hop upon the floor."
"Oh, no," said the mother,
"You must stay with me;
Little birds are safest,
Sitting in a tree."

"I don't care," said the robin,
And gave his tail a fling,
"I don't think the old folks
Know quite everything."
Down he flew, and Kitty seized him
Before he'd time to blink;
"Oh," he cried, "I'm sorry,
But I didn't think!"

Now, my little children,

You who read this song,
Don't you see that trouble
Comes of thinking wrong?
Can't you take a warning
From their dreadful fate,
Who began their thinking
When it was too late?

Don't think there's always safety

Where no danger shows,

A British Workman's Home.

Don't suppose you know more
Than anybody knows;
Bnt when warned of danger,
Pause upon the brink,

And don't go to destruction

'Cause you

"didn't think."

A BRITISH WORKMAN'S HOME.

I

REV. THOS. JARRATT.

DWELL in a neat little cottage,
Around it the jessamine twines;
Within, like the sun in its beauty,
Contentment and happiness shines.
My wife is the queen of the household,
The white sanded hearth is her throne,
Her title can never be questioned,
She governs by kindness alone.

At evening from labour returning,
She meets me with smiles at the door,
And quickly prepares for the table
A wholesome and plentiful store.
My drink is the choicest and purest,
That nature or wisdom supplies;
The wine of the sweet scented roses,
Pure water distilled from the skies.
My children are better companions
Than any the alehouse can show;
In reading, and singing, and playing,
Time never seems heavy or slow.
And then at the family altar,

United our voices we raise,
In earnest and loving devotion,
And anthems of jubilant praise.

O listen, companions of labour,
My words may be useful to you,
How often our lot would be brighter,
If we to our duties were true.
Then banish all useless repining,

And make of your comforts the most;
Let home with its blessed endearments,
Be ever your innocent boast.

31

82

What is Success?

WHAT IS SUCCESS?

REV. G. T. COSTER.

is success? God answer what!

WHAT
Wealth? Fame? The popular caress?

Within a royal tomb to rot

At last, is this success?

To walk amid the world's mad scorns,
Firm heart tho' cheek be pale,
To faint beneath a crown of thorns
And die, is this to fail?

Pretence and wrong in garb of gold
Are throned 'mid pomp and mirth,
While threadbare Righteousness a cold
Reception meets on earth.

What is success? Great Maker, end
The doubt within my breast,
Thy heavens of awful silence rend,
And lay my plaint in rest.

He heard; a sudden glory shone:
A cross before me stood
Whose top was lost in light, and on
It blossoms red as blood;

And by it beamed a spirit young,
And sweet-voiced as a bird,

He answer made, (it seemed he sung),
He answered with a word,-

"Heaven is success!" 'twas all: enough!
I heard, I hear it still;

Then welcome be the road tho' rough
That leads to heavenly hill!

And what to me a mortal's frown,
Or glittering world's caress,
The cross points upward to a crown,
To win that what success!

O grasp within thy greedy arms

This world, and myriads more,

And drain them of their vaunted charms
Thy joys will soon be o'er-

And endless Failure end them all.
O make heaven's life thy gaol;

Then death is gain,-bright angels call,
And Jesus crowns the soul!