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XX.

THE LESSON OF THE FLOWERS.

COME, my love, and do not spurn

From a little flower to learn.

See the lily on its bed,
Hanging down its modest head,
While it scarcely can be seen,
Folded in its leaf of green!

Yet we love the lily well

For its sweet and pleasant smell,
And would rather call it ours
Than many other gayer flowers:
Pretty lilies seem to be
Emblems of humility.

Come, my love, and do not spurn
From a little flower to learn.
Let your temper be as sweet
As the lily at your feet;
Be as gentle, be as mild;
Be a modest, humble child.

'Tis not beauty that we prize, -
Like a summer's flower it dies;

But humility will last,

Fair and sweet, when beauty's past:

And the Father from above

Views a humble child with love.

Hymns for Mothers and Children.

A

XXI.

THE BEGGAR.

BEGGAR through the world am I;
From place to place I wander by :

Fill up my pilgrim's scrip for me
For Christ's sweet sake and charity!

A little of thy steadfastness,
Rounded with leafy gracefulness,

Old oak, give me,

That the world's blasts may round me blow, And I yield gently to and fro,

While my stout-hearted trunk below,

And firm-set roots, unshaken be.

Some of thy stern, unyielding might,
Enduring still, through day and night,
Rude tempest-shock and withering blight,
That I may keep at bay

The changeful April sky of chance,
And the strong tide of circumstance,
Give me, old granite gray.

Some of thy pensiveness serene,

Some of thy never-dying green,

Put in this scrip of mine,

That griefs may fall like snow-flakes light, And deck me in a robe of white,

Ready to be an angel bright,
O sweetly mournful pine!

A little of thy merriment,
Of thy sparkling, light content,
Give me, my cheerful brook;
That I may still be full of glee
And gladsomeness where'er I be,
Though fickle Fate hath prisoned me
In some neglected nook.

Ye have been very kind and good
To me since I've been in the wood;
Ye have gone nigh to fill my heart.
But good-by, kind friends, every one;
I've far to go ere set of sun:
Of all good things I would have part.
The day was high ere I could start,
And so my journey's scarce begun.

Heaven help me! how could I forget
To beg of thee, dear violet!

Some of thy modesty,
That blossoms here as well, unseen,
As if before the world thou'dst been:
Oh! give, to strengthen me.

J. R. Lowell.

T

XXII.

KINDNESS TO ANIMALS.

NURN, turn the hasty foot aside, Nor crush the helpless worm : The frame thy wayward looks deride Required a God to form.

The common Lord of all that move,
From whom thy being flowed,
A portion of his boundless love
On that poor worm bestowed.

The sun, the moon, the stars, he made
To all his creatures free;

And spreads o'er earth the grassy blade
For worms as well as thee.

Let them enjoy their little day,
Their lowly bliss receive:
Oh! do not lightly take away
The life thou canst not give.

Gisborne. XXIII.

"Nor to myself alone,"

The little opening flower transported cries, "Not to myself alone I bud and bloom: With fragrant breath the breezes I perfume, And gladden all things with my rainbow dyes. The bee comes sipping every eventide

His dainty fill;

The butterfly within my cup doth hide
From threatening ill."

"Not to myself alone,"

The circling star with honest pride doth boast, "Not to myself alone I rise and set: I write upon Night's coronal of jet

His power and skill who formed our myriad host; A friendly beacon at heaven's open gate,

I gem the sky,

That man may ne'er forget in every fate
His home on high."

"Not to myself alone,"

The heavy-laden bee doth murmuring hum, —
"Not to myself alone, from flower to flower,
I rove the wood, the garden, and the bower,
And to the hive at evening weary come.
For man, for man, the luscious food I pile

With busy care,

Content if I repay my ceaseless toil
With scanty share."

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