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Children.

How vicious, wretched, might we be,
If growing up from infancy

In Christian truth untaught!

But now devoted, Lord, to thee,
In faith, and love, and purity,
How happy is our lot!

Teachers and Children.

Then, with united heart and voice,

In thy loved presence we rejoice,
And thus our prayers ascend:

O, when we all appear above,

May'st thou confirm our mutual love,
And all find thee their Friend!

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of thee I sing: Land where my fathers died! Land of the

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My native country! thee-
Land of the noble free-
Thy name I love;

I love thy rocks and rills,
Thy woods and templed hills,
My heart with rapture thrills,
Like that above.

Let music swell the breeze,
And ring from all the trees
Sweet freedom's song;
Let mortal tongues awake,
Let all that breathe partake,
Let rocks their silence break,
The sound prolong.

Our fathers' God! to thee-
Author of liberty!

To thee we sing ;

Long may our land be bright
With freedom's holy light;

Protect us by thy might,
Great God, our King!

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flower that grows, But God has placed it there.

There's not of grass a single blade,
Or leaf of lowliest mien,

Where heavenly skill is not displayed,
And heavenly wisdom seen.

There's not a star whose twinkling light
Illumes the spreading earth;
There's not a cloud, or dark or bright
But mercy gave it birth.

Then wake, my soul, and sing His name,
And all his praise rehearse,

Who spread abroad earth's glorious frame,
And made the universe.

THE USE OF FLOWERS.

O, wherefore were the flowers all made,
And dyed with rainbow light,
All fashioned with the utmost grace,
Upspringing day and night?

They spring in valleys green and low,
And on the mountains high,
And in the silent wilderness,
Where no man passes by.

Our outward life requires them not;
Then wherefore had they birth?
To minister delight to man-
To beautify the earth;

To comfort man; to whisper hope,
Whene'er his faith is dim:
For who so careth for the flowers
Will care much more for him.

CHILDHOOD OF JESUS.

In the green fields of Palestine,
And by its winding rills,

Along the Jordan's sacred stream,
And o'er the vine-clad hills,

Once lived and roved the fairest child

That ever blessed the earth;

The holiest, the happiest,

And yet of humblest birth.

How beautiful his childhood was,
Harmless and undefiled!

O, dear to his young mother's heart
Was this pure, sinless child!

Kindly in all his deeds and words,
And gentle as the dove;
Obedient, affectionate,

His very soul was love.

O, is it not a blessed thought,
Children of human birth,

That once the Saviour was a child,
And lived upon the earth?

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