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THE BELL OF THE ANGELS.

It is said, somewhere at twilight,
A great bell softly swings,
And a man may listen and hearken
To the wondrous music that rings.

If he put from his heart's inner chamber
All the passion, pain and strife,
Heartache and weary longing

That throb in the pulses of life;

If he thrust from his soul all hatred,
All thoughts of wicked things,
He can hear in the holy twilight
How the bell of the angels rings.

Let us look in our hearts, and question :
Can purer thoughts enter in

To a soul, if it be already

The dwelling of thoughts of sin?

So, then, let us ponder a little,-
Let us look in our hearts, and see
If the twilight bell of the angels
Can ring for you and me.

June 28.

By them (the springs) shall the fowls of the heaven have their habitation, which sing among the branches. -PSA. civ. 12.

STOP and think how bleak a world this would be if it were quite empty of all our little brothers and sisters, the dumb animals. Just imagine a broad field of green grass without a living thing in sight. Picture a forest, with boughs, and branches, and leaves all a-dance in the sunshine and the wind, but with never a linnet, nor robin, nor small brown bird; think of the hillsides without a squirrel or a rabbit to run and frisk, and peek. Poor little things! with curiosity in their

bright eyes, and fright and interest in their quickthumping little hearts! Let us love them, and uproot from our hearts all inclination to catch them and hold them and tease them.

THE BIRD'S NEST.

I have found a nest full of pretty eggs,
Right here in the meadow lying;
And I may look at them all I wish,
Till the mother-bird home comes flying.

Five pretty eggs, that, by and by
Five dear little birds will be;

With beaks, and feathers, and wings to fly,
And little brown eyes to see.

And, by and by, I will come, some day,
When the summer has older grown,
And will find them here, all hidden away,
Where I left the eggs alone.

I have heard it said, that once on a time,
(It must have been long ago),

A little boy found a nest of eggs,
Just as I found these, you know.

And that poor little boy, so little he knew,
And so naughty he was, they say,
That the pretty eggs never to birdies grew,-
For he carried them all away.

I am sure if he only had known, like me,
(For mamma has told me so),

That if he only would let them be
They would all into birdies grow,

He would never have taken the pretty nest,
And carried the eggs away,

And perhaps that five little birdies more
Would have sung in the fields to-day.

But away off there in the blue, I see
Where a fair white cloud is lying,
A little brown speck, that looks to me
Like a birdie homeward flying.

And, lest she should think I mean to keep
The treasure I took unbidden,
I will lay it back in the grasses deep,
Where I found it, safely hidden.

So, little brown birdie, do not fear,
Your nest is in tender keeping;
And safe in their speckled houses here,
Your five little birds are sleeping.

H. J. WESCOTT.

June 29.

Praise the Lord from the earth,

creeping things and birds of wing.-Psa. cxlviii. 7, 10.

WOULD you like to attend a musical entertainment of high class, where all the participants are skilled musicians? You may do it free of charge. Rise with the sun, on a bright summer morning, and take a stroll on the lawn or in the garden, or, better, in the woods or the fields. As you have come out for the express purpose of hearing choice music, listen so attentively that none of the precious strains shall escape. Listen! Isn't that grand music? How sweet! how perfect! how delightful! Surely God is good for sending us such sweetvoiced winged messengers of love. Listen! They are singing praises to their Maker.

Our Dumb Animals.

MORNING SONGS.

At one in the morning,

All's silent in Birdland, all bright eyes are
curtained, and folded all wings.

At two in the morning,

Some dreaming young thing a snatch of its
daytime roundelay sings.

At three in the morning,
Early-Bird chides his slow neighbors, and
then falls asleep unaware.

At four in the morning,

All, merry and mad, pour a medley of

song on the quivering air.

EDITH M. THOMAS.

June 30.

The earth is full of the goodness of the Lord.-PSA. xxxiii. 5.

REST your soul by remembering that One who feeds the birds and clothes the lilies is around you, close as the air, warm as the sunlight, with His careful cherishing ministries. Learn from the birds and the lilies to rest on the loving care which enfolds you. JAMES BALDWIN BROWN.

GOD'S FATHER-CARE.

There is no birdling in the nest the breeze rocks in the tree,
All featherless and fluttering, with eyes that cannot see,
But brooding mother-wings are there, to keep it snug and

warm,

And shelter it most lovingly from sunshine and from storm.

To every flitting butterfly, the flower-cups open wide ; Beneath the green leaf's canopy, the meanest worm may

hide;

Each tiny insect finds or builds some little house or cell,
And in and out goes happily, contented there to dwell.

Now, who has thought of all these things? Who planned and made them all?

The One who counts the shining stars, and suffers none to fall;

His tender Father-love is stretched o'er everything we see, And faileth never, night or day, to care for you and me. After the German of Hey.-C. M. HARRIS.

July 1.

Go, work to-day in My vineyard.—MATT. xxi. 28.

Do you desire that your work should never weary you? Think that you are giving pleasure to another, and are pleasing God.

MY QUESTION.

I asked a bee that was flitting by

To tell me its story, and say to me why

It seemed as happy at work as at play;

For it hummed its song the livelong day,

Yet it worked, and worked, and worked, for aye;
Now into the lily's perfumed bell,
Now into the cup of the campanel,
Now at the mouth of the trumpet-flower
That twined around our garden bower;
Anon, to the bloom of the almond-tree,
Then down to the honey-ball, close to me.
"O, tell me thy secret, blithe, happy bee,
What gives thy work such a zest for thee?"
Its answer was brief :-" I may not stay
To talk with you, for the wearing day
Admonishes that my work is not done,-
See how yon mountain is nearing the sun!
But, if you would wish to be happy and gay,

Always do your work first, and then, afterwards, play."

July 2.

Owe no man anything but to love one another.-ROM. xiii. 8.

SHALL we not choose Love, the beautiful guest, to come and live with us, and say to Envy, and Anger, and Evil-Speaking, and Impatience, that we have no room for them? For Love will not live with bad companions, and if we think unkind thoughts, and say unkind words of others, she will not stay with us. And we must be ready

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