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“ Grace and peace in Christ to my dearly beloved little son. I am glad to know that you are learning well, and that you say your prayers. So do, my little son, and persevere; and when I come home, I will bring with me a present from the annual fair. I know of a pleasant and beautiful garden, into which many children go, where they have golden little coats, and gather pretty apples under the trees, and pears, and cherries, and plums; also beautiful little horses, and golden bridles, and silver saddles. When I asked the man that owned the garden, · Whose are these children?' he said, “They are the children that love to pray, and to learn, and are pious.' Then, I said, “Dear Sir, I have also a little son; he is called Johnny Luther; may he not come into the garden, that he may eat such beautiful apples and pears, and may ride such a little horse, and play with these children?' Then the man said, “If he loves to learn and pray, and is pious, he shall come also into the garden ; Philip too, and little James; and if they all come together, then may they have likewise whistles, kettle-drums, lutes, and harps : they may dance also, and shoot with cross-bows.' Then he showed me a beautiful green grass-plot in the garden prepared for the dancing, where hung nothing but golden fifes, drums, and elegant silver cross-bows. But it was now early, and the children had not yet eaten ; therefore I could not wait for the dancing; and said to the man, 'Oh dear Sir, I will go instantly away, and write about all this to my little son John, that he may pray earnestly and write well, and be pious, so that he may also come into this garden. But he has an Aunt Magdalene; may he bring her with him ?' Then said the man so shall it be-go and write to him with confidence;' therefore, dear little John, learn to pray with delight, and tell Philip and James they must learn to pray; so shall you come with one another into the garden. With this I commend you to Almighty God; and give my love to Aunt Magdalene; give her a kiss for me. Your affectionate Father,

Martin Luther.
In the year 1530.”

The Little Child's Poet's Corner.


Sporting through the forest wide ;
Playing by the water-side ;
Wandering o'er the healthy fells ;
Down within the woodland dells;
All among the mountains wild,
Dwelleth many a little child !
In the baron's hall of pride ;
By the poor man's dull fireside :
'Mid the mighty, 'mid the mean,
Little children may be seen,
Like the flowers, that spring up fair,
Bright, and countless, everywhere!

In the fair isles of the main ;
In the desert's lone domain;
In the savage mountain glen,
'Mong the tribes of swarthy men ;

Wheresoe'er a foot hath gone;
Wheresoe'er the sun hath alone
On a leage of peopled ground,
Little children may be found !

Blessings on them! they in me
Move a kind of sympathy,
With their wishes, hopes, and fears;
With their laughter, and their tears ;
With their wonder, so intense,
And their small experience!

Little children, not alone
On the wide earth are ye known;
'Mid its labours, and its cares,
'Mid its sufferings, and its snares.
Free from sorrow, free from strife,
In the world of love, and life,
Where no sinful thing hath trod;
In the presence of your God,
Spotless, blameless, glorified,
Little children, ye abide !



Whither, O sweet lark! whither away,
Soaring so high in the dawning grey ?
I see thee not, but I hear thy voice,
Singing aloud, “Rejoice ! Rejoice!"
As long as the fields and the woods are green,
The breezes soft, and the sky serene,
Happy art thou, O bird of morn!
Greeting the beam o'er the far hills borne.

O for a wing and a voice like thine,
To revel and sing in the morning shine!
O for a spirit untouched by care,
A soul unworn by the world's despair

Floating aloft on thy russet wing,
Pleasant to thee are the days of spring;
'Thou hast no sorrow to make thee moan,
For sorrow is man's, and man's alone!

Whither O sweet lark! whither away,
Soaring so high in the dawning grey?
I see thee not, but I hear thy voice,
Singing aloud, “Rejoice! Rejoice !"

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