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Love is the eternal childhood;

He made a child confront the proud,
Hither all must come

And be in simple guise their teacher.
Who the kingdom would inberit
Of the Heavenly Home.

Life's song, indeed, would lose its charm,

Were there no babies to begin it; 364. CHILDREN, Advice to.

A doleful place this world would be,
Do no sinful action,

Were there no little people in it.
Speak no angry word;
Ye belong to JESUS,

366. CHILDREN, Blessing upon.
Children of the Lord.

" Suffer that little children come to Me,

Forbid them not.” Emboldened by his CHRIST is kind and gentle,

words, CHRisT is pure and true,

The mothers onward press ; but, finding vain And His little children

The attempt to reach the Lord, they trust Must be holy too.

their babes There's a wicked spirit

To strangers' hands; the innocents, alarmed
Watching round you still,

Amid the throng of faces all unknown,
And he tries to tempt you

Shrink, trembling, till their wandering eyes
To all harm and ill.


The countenance of Jesus, beaming love But ye must not hear him,

And pity; eager then they stretch their arms, Though 'tis hard for you

And, cowering, lay their heads upon His To resist the evil,


James Grahame.
And the good to do.
C. F. Alexander.

367, CHILDREN, Christ Blessing. 365, CHILDREN, Benefit of.

I think when I read that sweet story of old,

When Jesus was here among men, [fold, A dreary place would be this earth

How He called little children as lambs to His Were there no little people in it;

I should like to have been with them then. The song of life would lose its mirth Were there no children to begin it. I wish that His hands had been placed on my

head, No little forms, like buds to grow,

That His arms had been thrown around me, And make the admiring heart surrender; And that I'might have seen His kind look No little hands on breast and brow,

when He said, To keep the thrilling love-chords tender. Let the little ones come unto me. No babe within our arms to leap,

Yet still to His footstool in prayer I may go, No little feet toward slumber tending;

And ask for a share in His love; No little knee in prayer to bend,

And if I thus earnestly seek Him below, Our lips the sweet words lending.

I shall see Him and hear Him above. What would the mothers do for work, In that beautiful place He is gone to prepare,

Were there no pants or jackets tearing? For all who are washed and forgiven ; No tiny dresses to embroider ?

And many dear children are gathering there, No cradle for their watchful caring.

For of such is the kingdom of heaven. No rosy boys, at wintry morn,

Mrs. J. Luke. With satchels to the school-house hasting; 368. CHILDREN, Death and the. No merry shouts as home they rush, No precious morsel for their tasting;

There is a Reaper, whose name is Death,

And, with his sickle keen,
Tall, grave, grown people at the door, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath,

Tall, grave, grown people at the table : And the flowers that grow between.
The men on business all intent,
The dames lugubrious as they're able;

“Shall I have nought that is fair?" saith he;

“Have nought but the bearded grain ? The sterner souls would get more stern, Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to Unfeeling natures more inhuman,

I will give them all back again." [me, And man to stoic coldness turn, And woman would be less than woman. He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes.

He kissed their drooping leaves;
For in that clime toward which we reach, It was for the Lord of Paradiso

Through Time's mysterious dim unfolding, He bound them in his sheaves.
The little ones with cherub smile
Are still our Father's face beholding.

“My Lord hath need of these flow'rets gay,"

The Reaper said, and smiled; So said His voice in whom we trust,

“Dear tokens of the carth are they, When in Judea's realm a preacher, 1 Where He was once a child.

They shall all bloom in fields of light, 371, CHILDREN Jewels.
Transplanted by my care ;

Pointing to such well might Cornelia say, And saints upon their garments white

When the rich casket shone in bright array, These sacred blossoms wear.”

“These are my jewels!” Well of such as he, And the mother gave, in tears and pain,

When Jesus spake, well might his language be, The flow'rs she most did love;

“Suffer these little ones to come to me!” She knew she should find them all again

Samuel Rogers. In the fields of light above.

372. Children, Lesson from. Oh, not in cruelty, not in wrath,

O little feet! that such long years The Reaper came that day;

Must wander on through hope and fears, 'Twas an angel visited the green earth,

Must ache and bleed beneath your load; And took the flowers away.

I, nearer to the wayside inn
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

Where toil shall cease and rest begin, 369. CHILDREN, Death of.

I am weary, thinking of your road! The morning flowers display their sweets,

O little hands ! that, wcak or strong, And gay their silken leaves unfold;

Have still to serve or rule so long,

Have still so long to give or ask;
As careless of the noonday heats,
And fearless of the evening cold.

I, who so much with book and pen

Have toiled among my fellow-men, Nipp'd by the wind's unkindly blast, Am weary, thinking of your task.

Parch'd by the sun's directer ray,
The momentary glories waste,

O little hearts ! that throb and beat
The short-lived beauties die away.

With such impatient, feverish heat,

Such limitless and strong desires; So blooms the human face divine,

Mine, that so long has glowed and burned When youth its pride of beauty shows : | With passions into ashes turned, Fairer than spring the colors shine,

Now covers and conceals its fires. And sweeter than the virgin rose.

O little souls ! as pure and white Or worn by slowly-rolling years,

And crystalline as rays of light Or broke by sickness in a day,

Direct from Heaven, their source divine; The fading glory disappears,

Refracted through the mist of years, The short-lived beauties die away. How red my setting sun appears, Yet these, new rising from the tomb,

How lurid looks this soul of mine! With lustre brighter far shall shine,

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Revive with ever-during bloom,

373. CHILDREN, Mourning for. Safe from diseases and decline.

I heard a bell : Let sickness blast, let death devour,

There is a funeral, then, behind the church.

2d Child. Are the trees sorry when their If Heaven must recompense our pains ;

leaves drop off ? Perish the grass, and fade the flower,

1st Child. You talk such silly words; no, If firm the word of God remains.

not at all. Samuel Wesley, Jr. 870. CHILDREN, Example for.

There goes another leaf. Jean Ingelow. Lamb of God, I look to Thee,

374. CHILDREN, Pleasure of.
Thou shalt my example be;

Ah! what would the world be to us
Thou art gentle, meek, and mild:

If the children were no more?
Thou wast once a little child.

We should dread the desert behind us
Fain I would be as Thou art,

Worse than the dark before.
Give me Thy obedient heart;

What the leaves are to the forest,
Thou art pitiful and kind :

With light and air for food,
Let me have Thy loving mind.

Ere their sweet and tender juices
Let me above all fulfil

Have been hardened into wood,
God my heavenly Father's will;

That to the world are children;
Never His good Spirit grieve,

Through them it feels the glow
Only to His Glory live.

Of a brighter and sunnier climate
Loving Jesus, gentlc Lamb,

Than reaches the trunks below.
In Thy gracious hands I am:

Come to me, O ye children!
Make me, Saviour, what Thou art;

And whisper in my car
Live Thyself within my heart.

What the birds and the winds are singing
I shall then show forth Thy praise ;

In your sunny atmosphere.
Serve Thee all my happy days;

For what are all our contrivings,
Then the world shall always see

And the wisdom of our books,
Christ, the Holy Child, in me.

When compared with your caresses,
Charles Wesley. I And the gladness of your looks ?


Ye are better than all the ballads

That ever were sung or said;
For ye are living poems,
And all the rest are dead.

II. W. Longfelloro. 375. CHILDREN, Prayers of In the quiet nursery chambers,

Snowy pillows yet unpressed, See the forms of little children

Kneeling, white-robed for their rest; All in quiet pursery chambers,

While the dusky shadows creep, Hear the voices of the children

"Now I lay me down to sleep." On the meadow and the mountain

Calmly shine the winter stars, But across the glistening lowlands

Slant the moonlight's silver bars : In the silence and the darkness,

Darkness growing still more deep, Listen to the little children

Praying God their souls to keep. “If we dic"_so pray the children,

And the mother's head drops low; (One from out her fold is sleeping

Deep beneath the winter's snow ;) "Take our souls : " and past the casement

Flits a gleam of crystal light, Like the trailing of his garments,

Walking evermore in white. Little souls that stand expectant

Listening at the gates of life,
Hearing, far away, the murmur

Of the tumult and the strife;
We who fight bencath those banners,

Meeting ranks of foemen there,
Find a deeper, broader meaning

In your simple vesper prayer. When your hands shall grasp this standard,

Which to-day you watch from far,
When your deeds shall shape the conflict

In this universal war:
Pray to Him, the God of battles,

Whose strong eye can never slcer,
In the warring of temptation

Firm and true your souls to keep. When the combat ends, and slowly

Clears the smoke from out the skies,
Then far down the purple distance

All the noise of battle dies.
When the last night's solemn shadows

Settle down on you and me,
May the love that never faileth

Take our souls eternally.
376. CHILDREN, Talents of.
God entrusts to all

Talents few or many;
None so young or small

That they have not any.
Though the great and wise

Have a greater number,

Yet my one I prize,

And it must not slumber.
God will surely ask,

Ere I enter heaven,
Have I done the task

Which to me was given ?
Little drops of rain

Bring the springing flowers,
And I may attain

Much by little powers.
Every little mite,

Every little measure,
Helps to spread the light,
Helps to swell the treasure.

James Edmeston,
377. CHILDREN, Trust of..
“Now I lay”_say it, darling;

“Lay me,” lisped the tiny lips Of my daughter, kneeling, bending,

O'er her folded finger-tips. “Down to sleep "_" to sleep,” she mur.. I

mured, And the curly head drooped low; “I pray the Lord," I gently added,

“You can say it all, I know.” “Pray the Lord "—the words came faintly,

Fainter still" My soul to keep,' Then the tired head fairly nodded,

And the child was fast asleep. But the dewy eyes half opened

When I clasped her to my breast, And the dear voice softly whispered,

“Mamma, God knows all the rest." Oh, the trusting, sweet confiding

Of the child-heart! Would that I Thus might trust my Heavenly Father,

He who hears my feeblest cry.

378. CHILDREN, Teaching.
Delightful task I to rear the tender thought
To teach the young idea how to shoot,
To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind,
To breathe the enlivening spirit, and to fix
The generous purpose in the glowing breast.

James Thomson.
379. CHOICE, Nobility of.
Think not too meanly of thy low estate;
Thou hast a choice; to choose is to create !
Remember whose the sacred lips that tell,
Angels approve thee, when thy choice is

Remember, One, a judge of righteous men,
Swore to spare Sodom, if she held but ten!
Use well the freedom which thy Master gave,
|(Think'st thou that Heaven can tolerate a

slave :) And He who made thee to be just and true Will bless thee, love thee, –ay, respect thee too!

Oliver Wendell Holmes.

hed, The thnounce it as the black *

380. CHRIST, Abiding in. '

Hold Thou Thy Cross before my closing eyes; Abide in me, I pray, and I in thee;

Shine through the gloom, and point me to From this good hour, oh! leave me never-I- the skies; more:

shealed, Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain Then shall the discord cease, the wound be shadows flee ; The life-long bleeding of the soul be o'er. In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.

Henry Francis Lyte. Abide in me; o'ershadow by thy love Each half-formed purpose and dark thought) 382. CHRIST, Ability of. of sin;

A lowly man-He takes my sins, and bears Quench, e'er it rise, each selfish, low desire; the heavy load; And keep my soul as thine, calm and di- A lowly man–He takes my hand, and leads vine.

me up the road;

(tor! God!

And when I know this lowly man is my CreaAs some rare perfume in a vase of clay Pervades it with a fragrance not its own,

Oh, this hath solved me much dark speech; So, when thou dwellest in a mortal soul,

and loosed tongues that were dumb ! All heaven's own sweetness seems around

For all creation round me now a Gospel has

become, it thrown.

And what had seemed to me before mere Abide in me. There have been moments blest I wild, confused Babel, When I have heard thy voice and felt thy Is now a fire-tongued Pentecost, proclaimpower:

ing–CHRIST IS ABLE! Then evil lost its grasp ; and passion, hushed. The thunders, in the crashing skies, anOwned the divine enchantment of the nounce it as they roll; hour.

The lightnings on the black storm wall, write

it in vivid scroll; These were but seasons beautiful and rare; And stars repeat it, down the dark, in mystic Abide in me, and they shall ever be:

jewelled light; Fulfil at once thy precept and my prayer; The Urim and the Thummim on the breastCome and abide in me, and I in thee.

plate of the night; Harriet Beecher Stowe. And strong Orion shouts to me what slum381. CHRIST, Abiding with..

bered in old fable,

And echoes from eternal night-vaults answer, Abide with me; fast falls the eventide ;

Able! Able! The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide : and comet. cresting bended heavens, waves When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,

echo to the word, Help of the helpless, O abide with me.

Like waving white plume in the star-mailed Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day;

helmet of the Lord ; Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away;

For all creation its evangel utters forth abroad Change and decay in all around I see,

Into mine ear, when now I know my Saviour O Thou Who changest not, abide with me.

Christ is God! W. B. Robertson. Not a brief glance I beg, a passing word,

383. CHRIST, Alone with. But as Thou dwell'st with Thy disciples, | Alone with Thee! alone with Thee! Lord.

O Friend divine ! Familiar, condescending, patient, free, Thou Friend of friends, to me most dear, Come, not to sojouin, but abide with me! Though all unseen, I feel Thee near;

| And, with the love that knows no fear, Come not in terrors, as the King of kings;

I call Thee mine. But kind and good, with healing in Thy | wings:

Alone with Thee! alone with Thee ! Tears for all woes, a heart for every plea,

Now through my breast Come, Friend of sinners, and thus bide with There steals a breath like breath of balm me.

That healing brings and holy calm,

That soothes like chanted song or psalm, I need Thy presence every passing hour;

And makes me blest. What but Thy grace can foil the tempter's power

| Alone with Theel alone with Thee ! Who like Thyself my guide and stay may be? | Thy grace more sweet Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide Than music in the twilight still, with me.

Than airs that groves of spices fill,

| More fresh than dews on Hermon's hill, I fear no foe with Thee at hand to bless;

My soul doth greet.
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness;
Where is Death's sting? where, Grave, thy | Alone with Theel alone with Thee!

In Thy pure light
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me. | The splendid pomps and shows of time,

The tempting steeps that pride would climb, i
The peaks where glory rests sublime,

Pale on my sight.
Alone with Theel alone with Thee !

My softened heart
Floats on the flood of love divine,
Feels all its wishes drowned in Thine,
Content that every good is mine

Thou canst impart.
Alone with Thecl alone with Thee!

I want no more
To make my earthly bliss complete,
Than oft my Lord unseen to meet;
For sight I wait till tread my feet

Yon glistering shore.
Alone with Thee! alone with Thee !

There not alone,
But with all saints, the mighty throng,
My soul unfettered, pure, and strong,
Her high communings shall prolong

Before Thy throne. Ray Palmer.
384. CHRIST, Clinging to.
O Holy Saviour, Friend unseen,
Since on Thine arm Thou bidst me lean,
Help me throughout life's varying scene

By faith to cling to Thee.
Blest with this fellowship divine,
Take what Thou wilt, I'll ne'er repine;
E'en as the branches to the vine,

My soul would cling to Thee.
Far from her home, fatigued, oppressed.
Here she has found her place of rest;
An exile still, yet pot unblessed,

While sbe can cling to Thee.
Without a murmur I dismiss
My former dreams of earthly bliss ;
My joy, my consolation this,

Each hour to cling to Thee.
What though the world unfaithful prove,
And earthly friends and joys remove;
With sure and certain hope of love,

Still would I cling to Thee.
Oft when I seem to tread alone
Some barren waste, with thorns o'ergrown,
Thy voice of love, in gentle tone,

Whispers “Still cling to Me."
Though faith and hope may oft be tried,
I ask not, need not aught beside :
How safe, how calm, how satisfied,

The soul that clings to Thee!
They fear not Satan, nor the grave,
They feel Thec near and strong to save;
Nor dread to cross e'en Jordan's wave,

Because they cling to Thee.
Blessed is my lot, whate'er befall;
What can disturb me, who appall,
While as my Strength, my Rock, my All,
Saviour, I cling to Thec 1

Charlotte Elliott.

385, OHRIST, Confessing.
To tell the Saviour all my wants,

How pleasing is the task !
Nor less to praise Him when He grants

Beyond what I can ask.
My laboring spirit vainly seeks

To tell but half the joy;
With how much tenderness He speaks,

And helps me to reply.
Nor were it wise, nor should I choose,

Such secrets to declare:
Like precious wines, their tastes they lose,

Exposed to open air.
But this with boldness I proclaim,

Nor care if thousands hear,-
Sweet is the ointment of His name;

Nor life is half so dear. And can you frown, my former friends,

Who knew what once I was, And blame the song that thus commends

The Man who bore the cross ?
Trust me, I draw the likeness true,

And not as fancy paints;
Such honor may He give to you!
For such have all His saints.

William Coroper. 386. CHRIST, For Mo.

For me He left His home on high;
For me to earth He came to die;
For me He in a manger lay;
For me to Egypt fled away;
For me He dwelt with fishermen;
For me He slept in cave and glen;
For me abuse He meckly bore;
For me a crown of thorns He wore : :
For me He braved Gethsemane;
For me He hung upon a trce :
For me His final feast was made ;
For me by Judas was betrayed ;
For me by Peter was denied;
For me by Pilate crucified;
For me His precious blood was shed;
For me He slept among the dead;
For me He rose with might at last;
For me above the skies He passed;
For me He came at God's command;

For me He sits at His right hand. 387. CHRIST, Friendship of

Rest of the weary,

Joy of the sad,
Hope of the dreary,

Light of the glad;
Home of the stranger,

Strength to the end,
Refuge from danger,

Saviour and Friend !
Pillow where, lying,

Love rests its head;
Peace of the dying,

Life of the dead;

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