CHILD'S MORNING HYMN.

'Hé wakeneth morning by morning; he wakeneth mine ear to hear."-Isa., i. 4.

THE morning, the bright and the beautiful morning
Is up, and the sunshine is all on the wing,
With its fresh flush of gladness the landscape adorn-
ing,-

A gladness which nothing but morning can bring. The earth is awaking, the sky and the ocean,

The river and forest, the mountain and plain; The city is stirring its living commotion,

And the pulse of the world is reviving again.

And we too awake, for our heavenly Father,

Who soothed us so gently to sleep on his breast, And made the soft stillness of evening to gather Around us, now calls us again from our rest.

But ere to our labors and duties returning,

We hasten to give him the praise that is meet, And in solemn devotion, the first hours of morning, Out freest and freshest, we lay at his feet.

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CHILD'S MORNING HYMN.

Then, happy in heart, not a moment delaying,
In the breeze of the dawning so pleasant and cool,
No loitering, no lingering, no trifling, no playing,

But eager and active, we haste to the school.
How sweet are its hours that shine o'er us so brightly;

How pleasant its lessons, how short seems the day; Its hours are but moments, they fly off so lightly, When we are so busy, so cheerful, and gay.

Then away to the school in the sweet summer morn

ing,

God's blessing upon us, his light on our road;
And let all the lessons we daily are learning,
Be only to bring us more surely to God.
O now, let us haste to our heavenly Father,

And ere the fair skies of life's dawning be dim,
Let us come with glad hearts, let us come altogether,
And the morn of our youth let us hallow to Him.

TO M. L. B.

No night descend on thee:
O'er thee no shadows come!
Safe be thy journey through
This vale of cloud and gloom.

Daybreak be ever thine;

With fresh and rosy hours, Calm sunshine of the morn,

Odors, and dews, and flowers.

Light dwell in thee, and thou
Dwell ever in the light;

No wrinkle on thy brow,

Thine eye still blue and bright.

One long sweet spring be thine,

With buds still bursting through,

Fresh blossoms every hour,

And verdure fair and new.

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TO M. L. B.

Peace be thy gentle guest,
Peace holy and divine ;
God's blessed sunlight still,
Upon thy pathway shine.

His Spirit fill thy soul,

And cast out every sin,

His own deep joy impart,

And make a heaven within.

THE TWO ERAS OF THE LAND.

Or old they sung the song of liberty,

They sung it upon mountain and on plain,
Till every echo of both land and sea
Pealed back the song again.

They poured it on the morning's genial gale,
It floated out upon the evening's calm,

And the rich stream-breeze from each fragrant vale
Gave back the song in balm.

The peasant sang it in his straw-roofed cot,
The noble sang it in his princely hall,
Till the vexed land, responding to the note,
Rose up at freedom's call.

The blithe blue morning's newly-wakened ray
Of cloudless summer coming freshly down,
Saw chains and bondage, tears and slavery,
The tyrant's sword and frown.