He made the pretty flowers

To blossom wild and free;

He did not make them that the great
Alone their smiles should see.

Oh, no! He made them for us all,
To bless this land of ours;
And, more than that, He gave us love
Wherewith to love the flowers.

Yes, God upon his children smiles,
No matter when or where;
He sees them in the pleasant fields,
And smiles upon them there.

-Alike for all His love descends,

No matter what their lot,
The wealthy in their stately halls,
The peasant1 in his cot.

* 75 *

SUNSHINE AND SHOWER.

I.

Two children stood at their father's gate,

Two girls with golden hair;

And their eyes were bright, and their voices glad, Because the morn was fair.

For they said, "We will take that long, long walk To the hawthorn copse 2 to-day,

1

peasant, poor man.

2

copse, a wood of small growth.

And gather great bunches of lovely flowers
From off the scented may;1

And oh we shall be so happy there,
"Twill be sorrow to come away."

As the children spoke, a little cloud
Passed slowly across the sky;
And one looked up in her sister's face
With a tear-drop in her eye.

1

But the other said, "Oh! heed it not;
"Tis far too fair to rain;

That little cloud may search the sky
For other clouds in vain."

And soon the children's voices rose
In merriment again.

But, ere the morning hours had waned,
The sky had changed its hue,
And that one cloud had chased away
The whole great heaven of blue.
The rain fell down in heavy drops;

The wind began to blow;

And the children, in their nice warm room,

Went fretting to and fro;

For they said, "When we have aught in store,2 It always happens so."

II.

Now these two fair-haired sisters

Had a brother out at sea,

may, hawthorn blossom (of May).

2 aught in store, any thing pleasant to do.

A little midshipman 1 aboard
The gallant "Victory;"
And on that self-same morning

When they stood beside the gate,
His ship was wrecked, and on a raft
He stood all desolate,

With the other sailors round him,
Prepared to meet their fate.

Beyond, they saw the cool green land, —
The land with its waving trees,
And the little brooks that rise and fall
Like butterflies to the breeze;

And above them the burning noontide sun
With scorching stillness shone;

Their throats were parched with bitter thirst,
And they knelt down one by one,
Praying to God for a drop of rain,
And a gale to waft them on.

Just then that little cloud was sent,
That shower in mercy given;
And, as a bird before the breeze,
Their bark was landward driven.

Now, some few mornings after,

When the children met once more,
And their brother told the story,
They knew it was the hour
When they had wished for sunshine,

And God had sent the shower.

1 midshipman, a naval officer lower in rank than a lieutenant.

*76*

MOTES IN THE SUNBEAMS.'

THE motes up and down in the sun
Ever restlessly moving we see;
Whereas the great mountains stand still,
Unless terrible earthquakes there be.

If these atoms that move up and down
Were useful as restless they are,
Than a mountain I rather would be
A mote in the sunbeam so fair.

CHARLES AND MARY LAMB.

(In "Poetry for Children.")

* 77 *

BOYS' PLAY AND GIRLS' PLAY.

"Now, let's have a game of play,
Lucy, Jane, and little May, -
I will be a grizzly bear,

Prowling here and prowling there,
Sniffing round and round about,

Till I find you children out;
And my dreadful den shall be

Deep within the hollow tree."

"Oh, no! please not, Robert dear; Do not be a grizzly bear!

Little May was half afraid

When she heard the noise you made,

Roaring like a lion strong,

Just now, as you came along;

And she'll scream and start to-night, If you give her any fright."

"Well, then I'll be a fox:

You shall be the hens and cocks

In the farmer's apple-tree

Crowing out so lustily.

I will softly creep this way,-
Peep, and pounce upon my prey;
And I'll bear you to my den,
Where the fern grows in the glen."

"Oh, no, Robert! you're so strong,
While you're dragging us along
I'm afraid you'll tear our frocks:
We won't play at hens and cocks."
"If you won't play fox or bears,
I'm a dog, and you be hares;
Then you'll only have to run
Girls are never up to fun."

"You've your play, and we have ours; Go, and climb the trees again!

I and little May and Jane
Are so happy with our flowers!
Jane is culling foxglove bells;
May and I are making posies,
And we want to search the dells
For the latest summer roses."

MRS. HAWTREY.