III.

All nature awakens
From a night of soft sleep,
And the insects once more
From their hiding-holes creep.

IV.

The old birds have flown
Far away to get food,
While anxiously wait,
Their young trembling brood.

V.

To our Father in heaven
Our voices we'll raise,
With feelings most fervent,
In songs to his praise.

VI.

Dear Saviour, to love thee
Our hearts are inclined,
Oh, teach us, we pray thee,
Thy precepts to mind.

VII.

Upon our heart-garden,
Oh, let thy love rain,
Like fresh summer showers
Upon the young grain.

VIII.

Like soft, gentle dew
Upon the dry earth,
Which opens the old buds,
And to new ones gives birth.

IX.

Oh, teach us to offer
Good deeds in thy praise,
And acts of true charity
Be the hymns that we raise.

X.

From all that will harm us,
Or sorrow will bring,
Oh, keep us, dear Lord,
Beneath thy bright wing.

THE CHIMNEY-SWEEP.

harley was a little boy, but he knew very well how to pity the poor, because he had a kind heart; and he knew very well that the poor laborers he saw in the streets were not bad because they were meanly dressed and worked hard: he knew they were men, and had hearts like his father and mother, and when they were dressed their appearance was very respectable, and at church no people were more devout or better mannered.

One morning—it was winter—the sun shone down from the sky, and melted the snow and ice in the street and on the tops of the houses, so that it came tumbling down upon the sidewalks, and the streets were overflowing with the great flood. Charley was looking out of the window to see it fall, and the people dodge and scamper along to save themselves from the great slides that would have been very dangerous if they had hit any one on the head. He was thinking too of the poor little ragged boys, as they went by, some with matches, some with newspapers, and some with their hats in their hands begging, and he wished in his heart that he could do something to help them all; but he was but a little boy, and scarcely knew how to take care of himself. As he continued to watch the passers-by, there came along a poor chimney-sweep, with his soot-bag and brush; his feet were very red, and looked as if they were bitten with the frost, for his shoes only half-covered his poor swollen feet, and he had no stockings on. His blanket that hung over his shoulders was black as the chimney, and his face looked like soot.