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"Where are the angels, mother?

Though you have often said They watched at night around me, And safely kept my bed;

"Though every night I listen Their voices low to hear, Yet I have never heard them,-- Where are they, mother dear?

"And when the silver moonshine Fills all my room with light, And when the stars are shining, So countless and so bright.

"I hope to see them coming, With their fair forms, to me; Yet I have never seen them,-- Mother, where can they be?

"I saw a cloud, this evening, Red with the setting sun; It was so very lovely, I thought it might be one.

"But when it faded slowly, I knew it could not be, For they are always shining; Why come they not to me?"

"My child, when through your window Shines down the moonlight clear,-- When all is still and silent, And no kind friend is near,--

"Are you not glad and happy, And full of thoughts of love?

Do you not think of heaven.

That brighter land above?

"These thoughts the angels bring you; And though the gentle tone Of their sweet voices comes not When you are all alone;

"Yet they are always leaving, For earth, their homes on high; And though you cannot see them, You feel that they are nigh."

THE CHILDHOOD OF JESUS.

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Of the childhood of our Saviour Tells one simple verse alone; Yet from that his whole behavior When he was a child, is known.

He was subject to his mother, So the holy Scriptures say; 'Tis enough, we need no other Record of him day by day.

Thus we, his obedience knowing, Know how gentle and how mild,-- How in truth and goodness growing Was our Saviour from a child.

Little children, who endeavor Like the blessed One to be, As you try, remember ever How obedient was he.

If, like Jesus pure and holy, You your parents' will obey, You will grow more meek and lowly, And more like him, every day.

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THE FISHERS.

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Silence! stir not! for a whisper Would affright thy pretty prey; Not a motion, little lisper, Else the fish will glide away.

Hush! he's coming! he is swimming Slowly round and round the bait; Steady! though thine eye is br.i.m.m.i.n.g Full of mirth that will not wait.

And thy brother near thee kneeling Fears to hear thy ringing shout; Gently! near and nearer stealing Comes the brightly spotted trout.

There! thy hook has caught him surely; Firmly hold thy slender rod; Pull away! and then securely Place him on the gra.s.sy sod.

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'Neath the green boughs rustling o'er you, Fish away the livelong day; And with evening's star before you, Wander home at twilight gray.

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THE RAINBOW.

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"What is the rainbow, mother dear, With many-colored light?

Have the clouds parted just to show The floor of heaven so bright?

"Or is it wings of angels pure That touch along the sky?

And do they come that we may see How fair is all on high?

"Or, mother, on that shining arch Do spirits rise above?

And on that bended bow ascend Where all is light and love?

"How beautiful must be that road!

Why should we call those back, Who travel to the better land On such a sunny track?

"Why did you weep when brother died?

Did you not know that he On that delightful path must tread, Ere he in heaven could be?"

"My dearest child, we cannot know, Or trace the spirit's flight, For sin and sorrow draw their veil Across our mortal sight.

"If--as the rainbow takes its hues Of beauty from the sun-- We strive to live like Christ our Lord, The meek and holy One,--

"Then shall we dwell in Heaven's clear day, Which knows nor night nor moon, For, ever, from the Father's throne Beams high and cloudless noon."

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