Let my sins be all forgiven!

Bless the friends I love so well! Take me, when I die, to Heaven; Happy, there with Thee to dwell.

A CHILD'S MORNING HYMN.

ONCE more the light of day I see;
Lord, with it let me raise

My heart and voice in song to Thee
Of gratitude and praise.

The "busy bee" ere this hath gone
O'er many a bud and bell;

From flower to flower is humming on,

To store its waxen cell.

O may I like the bee still strive
Each moment to employ,

And store my mind, that richer hive,
With sweets that cannot cloy.

The skylark from its lowly nest
Hath soar'd into the sky,
And by its joyous song express'd
Unconscious praise on high.

K.

My feeble voice and faltering tone

No tuneful tribute bring;

But Thou canst in my heart make known What bird can never sing.

Instruct me, then, to lift my heart

To Thee in praise and prayer;
And love and gratitude impart
For every good I share :

For all the gifts Thy bounty sends,
For which so many pine;

For food and clothing, home and friends,
Since all these boons are Thine.

Thus let me, Lord, confess the debt
I owe Thee day by day;

Nor e'er at night or morn forget,

To Thee, O God, to pray!

A CHILD'S EVENING HYMN.

BEFORE I close my eyes in sleep,
Lord, hear my evening prayer;
And deign a helpless child to keep
With Thy protecting care.

Though young in years,

I have been taught

Thy name to love and fear;

Of Thee to think with solemn thought,
Thy goodness to revere.

That goodness gives each simple flower
Its scent and beauty too,

And feeds it in night's darkest hour
With heaven's refreshing dew.

Nor will Thy mercy less delight

The infant's God to be,

Who through the darkness of the night

For safety trusts to Thee.

The little birds that sing all day

In many a leafy wood,

By Thee are clothed in plumage gay,
By Thee supplied with food.

And when at night they cease to sing,

By Thee protected still,

Their young ones sleep beneath their wing, Secure from every ill.

Thus may'st Thou guard with gracious arm
The couch whereon I lie,

And keep a child from every harm
By Thy all-watchful eye.

For night and day to Thee are one,
The helpless are Thy care;
And for the sake of Thy dear Son,
Thou hear'st an infant's prayer.

R. CLAY, PRINTER, LONDON.