Then the child set out to follow the sun:
But the heavens would not stay;

For, ever the faster he tried to run,
They seemed to go farther away.

And the evening shades fell heavily,
With night-dews cold and damp;
While each little star in the dark-blue sky
Lit up its silvery lamp.

A light wind wafted the fleecy clouds;
And it seemed to the child that they
Were travelling on to the west, while the stars
Were going the other way.

So the child called out, as he saw them stray,
By the evening breezes driven,

"Little stars, you are wandering out of the way: That is not the way to heaven.”

Then he wandered on through the rough, waste lands

Where the tangled briers meet,

Till the prickles scratched his dimpled hands, And wounded his little feet.

He could not see before him well,

And the night grew dark and cold:

And at last he cried; for he could not tell
His way on the open wold.

Then the child knelt down on the damp, green

sod,

And he said his evening prayer;

And he fell asleep as he thought of God,
Who was listening to him there.

A long, long sleep; for they found him there
When the sun went down next day;

And he looked like an angel, pale and fair;
But his cheek was as cold as clay.

The sunbeams glanced on the drops of dew
That lay on his ringlets bright,

Glistening in every varied hue
Like a coronet of light.

From the German.

XXXIX.

LABOR.

AUSE not to dream of the future before us;

Pause not to weep

Pause not to weep the wild cares that come

o'er us:

Hark! how creation's deep musical chorus
Unintermitting goes up into heaven!
Never the ocean-wave falters in flowing;
Never the little seed stops in its growing;
More and more richly the rose-heart keeps glowing,
Till from its nourishing stem it is riven.

Labor is life. 'Tis the still water faileth:
Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth.

Keep the watch wound; for the dark rust assaileth:
Flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon.
Labor is glory. The flying cloud lightens ;
Only the waving wing changes and brightens ;
Idle hearts only the dark future frightens :
Play the sweet keys, wouldst thou keep them in

tune.

Labor is rest from the sorrows that greet us; Rest from all petty vexations that meet us; Rest from sin-promptings that ever entreat us; Rest from world-sirens that lure us to ill.

Work, and pure slumbers shall wait on thy pillow;

Work, thou shalt ride over Care's coming billow: Lie not down wearied 'neath Woe's weeping wil

low;

Work with a stout heart and resolute will.

Droop not, though shame, sin, and anguish are round thee;

Bravely fling off the cold chain that hath bound thee;

Look on yon pure heaven smiling beyond thee;
Rest not content in thy darkness, a clod.
Work for some good, be it ever so lowly:
Labor; all labor is noble and holy.

Frances Osgood.

I

XL.

THE KINGDOM OF GOD.

SAY to thee, Do thou repeat

To the first man thou mayest meet In lane, highway, or open street,

That he and we, and all men, move
Under a canopy of love

As broad as the blue sky above;

That doubt and trouble, fear and pain
And anguish, all are shadows vain;
That death itself shall not remain;

That weary deserts we may tread;
A dreary labyrinth may thread;
Through pathways underground be led.

Yet, if we will one Guide obey,
The dreariest path, the darkest way,
Shall issue out in heavenly day;

And we, on divers shores now cast,
Shall meet, our perilous voyage past,
All in our Father's house at last.

And, ere thou leave him, say thou this, —
Yet one word more: they only miss
The winning of that fatal bliss

Who will not count it true, that love,
Blessing, not cursing, rules above,

And that in it we live and move.

And one thing further make him know,-
That to believe these things are so,
This firm faith never to forego,

Despite of all which seems at strife
With blessing, all with curses rife ;
That this is blessing, this is life.

Trench.

XLI.

FOLLOW ME.

VOYAGER on Life's troubled sea,
Sailing to eternity,

Turn from earthly things away:
Vain they are, and brief their stay,
Chaining down to earth the heart;
Nothing lasting they impart.
Voyager, what are they to thee?
Leave them all, and follow me.

Traveller on the road of Life,
Seeking pleasure, finding strife,
Know the world can never give
Aught on which the soul can live.