MORNING HYMN. Awake, my soul, and with the sun, Redeem thy mis-spent moments past, Let all thy converse (1) be sincere, Thy secret thoughts, thy works, and ways. Wake, and lift up thyself, my heart, And with the angels bear thy part; Who all night long unwearied (2) sing, Praise God, from whom all blessings flow; Praise him all creatures here below; Praise him above, angelic host; Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. (1) Converse-Conversation. | (2) Unwearied-Without being weary. This and the Evening Hymn should be early learnt and fre quently repeated by the younger pupils. A THE LITTLE STAR. Twinkle, twinkle, little star, In the cold blue sky you keep, And twinkle, twinkle, all the night. Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are! GREEN. What a glorious sight it is to look at the Heavens on a fine clear night! What thousands and thousands of stars do we not see on every side of us! And when we consider that Astronomers have told us that those stars are millions of miles distant from us, and are like worlds to our own, should we not lift up our hearts to that Great Being who created the world we live in,-that firmament studded with stars-and everything we see or know. AGAINST IDLENESS AND MISCHIEF. How doth the little busy bee How skilfully she builds her cell! With the sweet food she makes. In Works of labour, or of skill, I would be busy too; For Satan finds some mischief still For idle hands to do. In books, or work, or healthful play, Some good account at last. Industry will ever bring its own reward. The boy who goes to school and studiously learn his lessons, is a far happier boy than he who is lazy, and will not learn without being made. "For Satan finds some mischief still, For idle hands to do." MY MOTHER. Who fed me from her gentle breast, And on my cheeks sweet kisses press'd? When sleep forsook my open eye, MY MOTHER. And sooth'd me that I should not cry? MY MOTHER. Who taught my infant heart to pray, MY MOTHER, And can I ever cease to be Who wast so very kind to me, MY MOTHER. Ah, no! the thought I cannot bear, MY MOTHER. THE USE OF FLOWERS. God might have made the earth bring forth The oak-tree and the cedar (1) tree, We might have had enough, enough, For every want of ours, For luxury, medicine, and toil, And yet have had no flowers. The ore (2) within the mountain mine, Nor doth it need the lotus flower, To make the river flow. The clouds might give abundant rain, The nightly dews might fall, And the herb that keepeth life in man, Might yet have drunk them all. (1) Cedar-An evergreen tree. | (2) Ore-Metal in the mineral state. Then wherefore, wherefore were they made, Springing in valleys green and low, Our outward life requires them not- To minister delight to man, To beautify the earth To comfort man-to whisper hope, For who so careth for the flowers, Will much more care for him. MRS. HOWITT. The lovely flowers of the Earth not only serve us in various useful ways, but are intended besides to awaken in us ideas of beauty, taste and grace, and to lead our thoughts to him who said "Consider the lilies of the field they toil not, neither do they spin, yet Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these." AGAINST QUARRELLING AND FIGHTING. Let dogs delight to bark and bite, |