MY FATHER'S AT THE HELM. THE curling waves, with awful roar, And pallid fear's distracting power Save one, the captain's darling child, "And sport'st thou thus," a seaman cried, So when our worldly all is reft- He to our prayers will bend an ear, He turns to smiles each trembling tear, Then turn to Him, 'mid sorrows wild, TO THE ROBIN. LITTLE bird with bosom red, Doubt not, little though there be, Well rewarded if I spy, MARY ANN'S CHILD. MARY ANN was alone with her baby in arms, For her husband was out in the night and the storms, And she, as the wind in the elm-heads did roar, And her kinsfolk and neighbours did say of her child, (Under the lofty elm-tree), That a prettier never did babble and smile Up a-top of a proud mother's knee; And his mother did toss him, and kiss him, and call But she found in the evening the child was not well And she felt she could give all the world for to tell And she thought on him last in her prayers at night, And she found him grow worse in the dead of the night, (Under the gloomy elm-tree), And she press'd him against her warm bosom so tight, And she rock'd him so sorrowfully; And there in his anguish a-nestling he lay, Till his struggles grew weak, and his cries died away. And the moon was a-shining down into the place And his mother could see that his lips and his face And her tongue was a-tied, and her still heart did swell C Never more can she feel his warm face in her breast For his eyes are a-shut, and his hands are at rest, For his soul we do know is to heaven a-fled, Where no pain is a-known, and no tears are a-shed. W. Barnes. THE SANDS O' DEE. "O MARY! go and call the cattle home, And call the cattle home, Across the sands o' Dee." The western wind was wild and dank with foam, The creeping tide came up along the sand, And round and round the sand, As far as eye could see; The blinding mist came down and hid the land— Oh, is it weed, or fish, or floating hair?— O' drowned maiden's hair, Above the nets at sea. Was never salmon yet that shone so fair Among the stakes o' Dee. They row'd her in across the rolling foam, The cruel crawling foam, The cruel hungry foam, To her grave beside the sea: But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home, Across the sands o' Dee. C. Kingsley. THE FOUNTAIN. INTO the sunshine, Into the moonlight When the winds blow! Into the starlight, Ever in motion, Blithesome and cheery, Still climbing heavenward, Never aweary; Glad of all weathers, Full of a nature Ceaseless aspiring, Ceaseless content, Darkness or sunshine Thy element. Glorious fountain, Let my heart be Fresh, changeful, constant, Lowell. STANDARD THE MYSTERIES OF PROVIDENCE. GOD moves in a mysterious way, Deep in unfathomable mines He treasures up His bright designs, Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take! Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, His purposes will ripen fast, The bud may have a bitter taste, Blind unbelief is sure to err, God is his own interpreter, THE THREE FISHERS. Cowper. THREE fishers went sailing away to the west, And the children stood watching them out of the town; Three wives sat up in the lighthouse tower, And they trimm'd the lamps as the sun went down; They look'd at the squall, and they look'd at the shower, And the night-rack came rolling up ragged and brown. |