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And shouted but once more aloud,

"My father, must I stay?"

While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud,
The wreathing fires made way.

They wrapped the ship in splendour wild,

They caught the flag on high,

And streamed above the gallant child,
Like banners in the sky.

Then came a burst of thunder-sound-
The boy-oh! where was he!
Ask of the winds, that far around
With fragments strewed the sea,

With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,
That well had borne their part;
But the noblest thing that perished there,
Was that young and faithful heart.

LESSON LIV.

DON'T KILL THE BIRDS.

DON'T kill the birds—the little birds That sing about your door,

Soon as the joyous spring has come,

And chilling storms are o'er.
The little birds, how sweet they sing!
O, let them joyous live!

And never seek to take the life

Which you can never give.

Don't kill the birds-the pretty birds
That play among the trees;

"Twould make the earth a cheerless place,
Should we dispense with these.
The little birds, how fond they play!

Do not disturb their sport;

But let them warble forth their songs
Till winter cuts them short.

Don't kill the birds-the happy birds
That bless the field and grove ;
So innocent to look upon,—
They claim our warmest love.
The happy birds-the tuneful birds,
How pleasant 'tis to see;
No spot can be a cheerless place
Where'er their presence be.

LESSON LV.

THE BLIND BOY.

T was a blessed summer's day,

IT

The flowers bloomed, the air was mild, The birds poured forth their gentle lay, And everything in nature smiled.

In pleasant thought I wandered on, Beneath the deep wood's ample shade, Till suddenly I came upon

Two children who had hither strayed.

Just at an aged birch tree's foot,
A little boy and girl reclined;
Her hand on his she kindly put,

And then I saw the boy was blind.

The children knew not I was near;
A tree concealed me from their view;
But all they said I well could hear,
And then I saw the boy was blind.

"Dear Mary," said the poor blind boy,
“That little bird sings very long;
Say, do you see him in his joy,
And is he pretty as his song?"

"Yes, Edward, yes,"-replied the maid,
"I see the bird in yonder tree."
The poor boy sighed, and gently said,

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"Yet I the fragrant flower can smell,

And I can feel the green leaf's shade,

And I can hear the notes that swell

From these dear birds that God has made.

"So, sister, God to me is kind,

Though sight, alas! He has not given; •

But, tell me, are there any blind

Among the children up in heaven?"

"Dear Edward, no; there all can see; But, why ask me a thing so odd?" "Oh, Mary, He's so good to me,

I thought I'd like to look at God."

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Ere long disease his hand had laid
On that dear boy, so meek and mild;
His widowed mother wept and prayed
That God would spare her sightless child.

He felt her warm tears on his face,
And said, "Oh, never weep for me,
I'm going to a bright, bright place,
Where Mary says, I God shall see.

"And you'll come there, dear Mary, too;
But, mother, when you get up there,
Tell Edward, mother, that 'tis you,
You know I never saw you here."

He spake no more, but sweetly smiled,
Until the final blow was given,

When God took up that poor blind child,
And opened first his eyes in heaven.

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THE LOST CHILD AND THE LAMB.

A LITTLE child wandered from its mother's cottage to the green meadows in search of flowers. Pleased with the pursuit, and finding new pleasures the more she sought, it was nearly night before she thought of returning. But in vain she turned her steps. She had lost her way. The thick clumps of trees that she had passed were no guide, and she could not tell whether home was between her and the setting sun or not.

She sat down and wept. She looked in all directions, in hope of seeing some one to lead her homeward, but no one appeared. She strained her eyes, now dim with tears, to catch a sight of the smoke curling from the cot she had left. It was like looking out on the ocean with no sail in view. She was alone in, as it were, a wilderness. Hours had passed

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