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Under the snow, the beautiful snow,

Rests all the fair future of promise and bloom, The bud and the blossom, the summer's bright

glow,

The autumn's full fruitage, the winter's rich boon.

Under the snow, ah! under the snow,

Lie buried the hopes of the sorrowing heart: Wailing and sad the winds over them blow, While, weeping, they watch the dear promise depart.

Oh! hear we not murmuring voices below, When we hopefully listen, and patiently wait The hurrying of unseen feet, that go

On errands of love for humanity's sake?

Hear we the beating, the stir, and the strife
Of forces that slumber by night nor by day,
Abiding their time, when, bursting with life,
They scatter their icy fetters away?

Though under the snow, deep under the snow,
Lie hearts all despairing in sadness and gloom,
The soft breath of spring-time will over them
blow,

And the pale bud of hope into rich beauty bloom.

Mrs. Cheseboro.

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12. ONE BY ONE.

NE by one the sands are flowing, One by one the moments fall: Some are coming, some are going; Do not strive to grasp them all.

One by one thy duties wait thee;
Let thy whole strength go to each:
Let no future dreams elate thee;
Learn thou first what these can teach.

One by one, bright gifts from heaven,
Joys are lent thee here below:
Take them readily when given;
Ready, too, to let them go.

One by one thy griefs shall meet thee:
Do not fear an armèd band;
One will fade as others greet thee, -
Shadows passing through the land.

Do not look at life's long sorrow;
See how small each moment's pain:
God will help thee for to-morrow;
So each day begin again.

Every hour that fleets so slowly
Has its task to do or bear:
Luminous the crown, and holy,
If thou set each gem with care.

Do not linger with regretting,
Or for passing hours despond;
Nor, the daily toil forgetting,
Look too eagerly beyond.

Hours are golden links, God's token,
Reaching heaven; but one by one
Take them, lest the chain be broken
Ere the pilgrimage be done.

Adelaide A. Procter.

T

13. THE ARK AND DOVE.

HERE was a noble ark,

Sailing o'er waters dark,

And wild around :

Not one tall tree was seen,
Nor flower, nor leaf of green ;
All, all, was drowned.

Then a soft wing was spread,
And o'er the billows dread
A meek dove flew;
But, on that shoreless tide,
No living thing she spied
To cheer her view.

So to the ark she fled,
With weary, drooping head,
To seek for rest.
God is thy ark, my love:
Thou art the tender dove;
Fly to his breast.

Mrs. Sigourney.

I

14. GLADNESS.

S this a time to be cloudy and sad, When our mother Nature laughs around; When even the deep blue heavens look glad, And gladness breathes from the blossoming

ground?

There are notes of joy from the hang-bird and

wren,

And the gossip of swallows through all the sky; The ground-squirrel gayly chirps by his den, And the wilding bee hums merrily by.

The clouds are at play in the azure space,

And their shadows at play on the bright green

vale;

And here they stretch to the frolic chase,
And there they roll on the easy gale.

There's a dance of leaves in that aspen bower; There's a titter of wind in that beechen tree; There's a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the

flower,

And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea.

And look at the broad-faced Sun! how he smiles
On the dewy earth that smiles in his ray,
On the leaping waters and gay young isles!
Ay, look! and he'll smile thy gloom away.

W. C. Bryant.

THI

15. THOU, GOD, SEEST ME.

THROUGH all the busy daylight, through all the quiet night,

Whether the stars are in the sky or the sun is

shining bright,

In the nursery, in the parlor, in the street, or on the stair,

Though I may seem to be alone, yet God is always

there.

Whatever I may do,

Wherever I may be,
Although I see him not,

Yet God sees me.

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