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And God, himself, the garment made
That had a place within their hearts, as one of tho Which they are clothèd in ;
family. In the perfectness of beauty Each several flower is made,
But want, even as an armed man, came down upon And Solomon, in all his pomp,
their shed, Was not like them arrayed ;
The father laboured all day long, that his children They are but of the field, yet God
might be fed ; Has clothed them as ye see :
And, one by one, their household things, were sold Oh, how much more, immortal souls,
to buy them bread. Will he not care for ye!
That father, with a downcast eye, upon his thres
hold stood, Gaunt poverty each pleasant thought had in his heart
gubdued ; THE SALE OF THE PET LAMB OF THE " What is the creature's life to us ?" said he, " 't will COTTAGE.
buy us food! OH! poverty is a weary thing, 't is full of grief and " Ay, though the children weep all day, and with pain,
down-drooping head It boweth down the heart of man, and dulls his cun- Each does his small craft mournfully!- the hungry ning brain,
must be fed ; It maketh even the liule child with heavy sighs And that which has a price to bring, must go, to buy complain!
us bread!" The children of the rich man have not their bread 10 It went–oh! parting has a pang the hardest heart to win:
wring, They hardly know how labour is the penalty of sin ; But the tender soul of a little child with fervent love Even as the lilies of the field, they neither toil nor spin.
doth cling, And year by year, as life wears on, no wants have With love that hath no feignings false, unto each they to bear;
gentle thing! In all the luxury of the earth they have abundant share ;
Therefore most sorrowful it was those children small They walk among life's pleasant ways, and never Most sorrowful to hear them plead for their pet so know a care.
piteously; — The children of the poor man — though they be " Oh! mother dear, it loveth us; and what beside young, each one,
have we ? Early in the morning they rise up before the rising sun, And scarcely when the sun is set, their daily task is “Let's take him to the broad, green hills,” in his done.
Said one strong boy, “ let 's take him off, the hills are Few things have they to call their own, to fill their
wide and fair; hearts with pride,
I know a little hiding-place, and we will keep him The sunshine of the summer's day, the flowers on there!"
the highway side, Or their own free companionship, on the heathy com- 'T was vain!—they took the little lamb, and straightmon wide.
way tied him down, Hunger, and cold, and weariness, these are a frightful With a strong
cord they tied him fast ;—and o'er the three;
common brown, But another curse there is beside, that darkens po
And o'er the hot and flinty roads, they took him to
the town. verty :It may not have one thing to love, how small soe'er The little children through that day, and throughout it be.
all the morrow A thousand flocks were on the hills -- a thousand From everything about the house a mournful thought flocks, and more,
did borrow; Feeding in sunshine pleasantly,—they were the rich The very bread they had to eat was food unto their man's store ;
sorrow! There was the while, one little lamb, beside a cottage Oh! poverty is a weary thing, 't is full of grief and door:
pain — A little lamb that did lie down with the children It keepeth down the soul of man, as with an iron 'neath the tree;
chain; That ate, meek creature, from their hands, and nes. It maketh even the little child, with heavy sighş tled to their knee ;
THE FAERY OATH.
“Thy voice is weak, thine eyes are dim,”
Where was that land, I cannot say -
but I told to none,
Down I knelt, and I strove to pray,
With thee, the dead are blest:— they have gone But never a hope to my soul found way;
forth, For with that spell I was bound and bound,
Thou knowest not whither, but to some fair home,
Where sorrow cannot come.
It matters not to thee, that angel-guest
Nor spirit hath come down to tell thee where
Lie those delicious islands of the blest,-I have wrestled hard, I have fiercely striven 'Gainst them, and for my peace with heaven ;
Thou knowest that they are! But now my strength doth ebb apace
What marvel, then, that thou shouldest ehed no tear Father, can the church award me grace,
Standing beside the dead, that thou shouldst And among the blessed a dwelling-place ?"
wreathe My son," the reverend friar spake,
Thyself with flowers, and thy bright beauty wear " Behold! how the faëry web shall break;
Even in the house of death?
Oh! thou undoubting one, who from the tree
Of life hast plucked and eaten, well mayst thou And the contrite heart is the sanctified!
Unknowing evil, walk in spirit free, Give up — stand like the Hebrews, still
With thine unclouded brow! And behold the wonders of God's will ;
Thy faith is knowledge, and without a fear Lay down thy strift - lay down thy pride
Lookest thou onward in the light revealed ! Lay all thy hope on Christ who died,
Thou blessed child! In thee will I revere
The truth which God has sealed.
I will not doubt - like thee I will arise,
And clothe my soul in light, nor more repine Have faith! 't is the spell of glory, given
That life, and death, and heaven, are mysteries : To burst all bars on the way to heaven;
Thy strong faith shall be mine!
Then may I see the beautiful depart,
The fair flowers of my spring-time fade and die, Chanting, “ Te laudamus, Domine !"
With an unquestioning, unrebellious heart,
Strong in God's certainty !
À STORY OF THE INDIAN WAR.
BEAUTIFUL it is to behold thee sit,
Listening the words thy father speaks of death! To see thine nnrebellious soul submit,
And thine unquestioning faith! that I had thy faith, thou gentle child !
Thy trust in the bright future, — and could see
The spiritual land, like thee!
Show me thy nightly visions, bright-eyed seer !
And shrink with anxious fear?
Forth from my feeble longings, light on thine ?
Oh that thy faith were mine!
For thou dost fear it not; -- thou hast no dread,
No dark fears for the dead.
“I was at William Penn's country-house, called Pensbury, in Pennsylvania, where I staid some days. Much of my time I spent in seeing William Penn, and many of the chief men among the Indians, in council concerning their former covenant, now renewed on his going away for England. To pass by several particulars, I may mention the following: • They never broke covenant with any people,' said one of their great chiefs; and, smiting his hand upon his head, he said, they made not their covenants there, but here,' said he, smiting on his breast three times.
"I, being walking in the woods, espied several wig. wams, and drew towards them. The love of God filled my heart; and I felt it right to look for an interpreler, which I did. Then I signified that I was come from a far country with a message from the Great Spirit (as they call God,) and my message was to endeavour to persuade them that they should not be drunkards, nor steal, nor kill one another, nor fight, nor put away their wives for small faults; for
They read of rapine, war, and woe,
A party by an English fire,Of Indian warfare in the wood,
Or stern and ruthless ire. They read of torture worse than death
Of treachery dark — of natures base – Of women savage as the beast
of the red Indian race. “Hold!" said the matron of the hearth,
A woman beautiful in age; " And let me of the Indian speak;
Close, close that faithless page!
“Four needy brothers, coarse and dull;
A patrimony, quite outspent ;
A father, weak and indolent!
A creature gentle, kind, and fair; Poor, like himself, but well content
The forest-life to share. “She left an old white-headed sire ;
A mother loving, thoughtful, good; She left a home of love, to live
For him, within the wood. “ And that old couple did provide,
Out of their need, for many a want Else unforeseen; their daughter's dower
In gifts of love, not scant. “ His father with cold scorn received
So dowered a daughter, without name; Nor could his purposed exile win
Either assent or blame. “All was a chill of indifference;
And from his father's gate he went, As from a place where none for him
Had kindred sentiment. “And in the western world they dwelt;
Life, like a joyous summer morn, Each hope fulfilled ; and in the wild
To them were children born. “All that his youth had dreamed he found
In that life's freshness; peril strange ; Adventure; freedom; sylvan wealth;
And ceaseless, blameless change. " And there he, and his heart's true mate,
Essay'd and found how sweet to live, 'Mid Nature's store, with health and love,
That life so primitive! " But that sweet life camo to an end.
As falls the golden-eared corn Before the sickle, earthly bliss
In human hearts is shorn.
“ My father was the youngest born
In an old rural English hall;
With patrimony small.
His youth was all a sylvan dream; He tracked the game upon the hills;
He angled in the stream. Quiet was he, and well content,
With naught to fret, and none to chide; For all that his young heart desired
The woods and streams supplied. “Small knowledge had a youth so trained,
College or school ne'er knew his face ; And yet as he grew up, he grew
Superior to his race. “ His brethren were of sordid sort,
Men with coarse minds, and without range; He grew adventurous and bold,
Inquisitive of change. “And, as he grew, he took to books,
And read whate'er the hall supplied ; Histories of admirals, voyages old,
And travel far and wide. “He read of settlers, who went forth
To the far west, and pithed their tent Within the woods, and grew, ere long
To a great, prosperous settlement.
“ Sickness — bereavement widowhood
Oh, these three awful words embrace
Upon our sylvan dwelling-place! “It matters not to tell of pangs,
Of the heart-broken, the bereft; I will pass over death and tears, I will pass on 10 other years,
When only two were left! “I and a sister; long had passed
The anguish of that time, and we Were living in a home of love,
Though in a stranger's family. “ Still in the wilderness we dwelt,
And were grown up towards womanhood; When our sweet life of peace was stirred
By tales of civil feud. “ By rumours of approaching war,
Of battle done, of armed bands; Or horrid deeds of blood and fire,
Achieved by Indian hands. “We heard it first with disbelief;
And long time after, when had spread Wild war throughout the land, we dwelt
All unassailed by dread. “For they with whom our lot was cast,
Were people of that Christian creed Who will not fight, but trust in God
For help in time of need. “ The forest round was like a camp,
And men were armèd day and night; And every morning bronghi fresh news
To heighten their affright. “ Through the green forest rose the smoke
Of places burn'd the night before ; And from their victims, the red scalp
The excited Indian tore. “ This was around us, yet we dwelt In
peace upon the forest bound; Without defence, without annoy,
The Indian camp'd all round. “ The door was never barr’d by night,
The door was never closed by day; And there the Indians came and went,
As they had done alway. "For these of Onas are the sons,'
Said they, 'the upright peaceful men! Nor was harm done to those who held
The faith of William Penn. “But I this while thought less of peace,
Than of the camp and batile stir; For I had given my young heart's love
Unto a British officer.
He lay, the leader of a band
The Indian from the land
6. The native Indian from his woods
Ideem'd it cowardly and base, And, with a righteous zeal I pled
For the free forest-race. “ But he, to whom I pled, preferr'd
Sweet pleading of another sort; And we met ever 'neath the wood
Outside the forest-fort. “ The Indian passed us in the wood,
Or glared upon us from the brake; But he, disguised, with me was safe,
For Father Onas' sake. " At length the crisis of the war
Approach'd, and he, my soul's beloved, With his hot band, impatient grown,
Yet further west removed. “There he was taken by the foe,
Ambush'd like tigers 'mid the trees : You know what death severe and dread
The Indian to his foe decrees. “ A death of torture and of fire
Protracted death; I knew too well, Outraged and anger'd, as of late
Had been the Indian spirit, fell Would be their vengeance, and, to him,
Their hate implacable. * When first to me his fate was told,
I stood amazed, confounded, dumb; Then wildly wept and wrung my hands,
By anguish overcome. “• Wait, wait!' the peaceful people said ;
• Be still and wait, the Lord is good! But when they bade me trust and wait, I went forth in my anguish great,
To hide me in the wood.
To me were as my early kin:
My best-beloved to win.
Long journeying on through wood and swamp; Three long days' travel, ere we came
To the great Indian camp. “We saw the Indians as we went:
Hid 'mong the grass with tiger ken; But we were safe, they would not harm
The daughters of the peaceful men. “ In thickets of the woods at length
We came to a savannah green ; And there, beneath the open day,
The Indian camp was seen.
And from the solemn council-talk,