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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 67 pages of information about Our Gift.

Nor when dark clouds of sin would veil
  All glory from our sight;
And make both heart and hope to fail,
  And brightness turn to night?

But when, midst virtue’s clearer air,
  The eye no hindrance knows,
How radiant stands the angel there! 
  What holy gifts bestows!

My darling niece, whose form of grace
  Has made these thoughts arise,
I’m sure this angel oft I trace
  In those clear depths—­thine eyes.

And bursting forth from my full heart,
  My prayers to heaven ascend,
That earth’s dark changes ne’er may part
  Thee and thy angel friend.

That purity may always be
  The medium, clear and bright,
Through which may ever shine on thee
  Heaven’s own unclouded light.

TEACHERS’ LIBRARY.

The Teachers’ Library connected with the School street Universalist Sunday school, was commenced in 1841, when 67 volumes were collected for that purpose.—­Great care has been taken in selecting volumes for this library.  At this time, 1850, it numbers 194 valuable books.

SCHOLARS’ LIBRARY.

The foundation of the Scholars’ Library, connected with the School street Universalist Sunday school, was laid in the year 1835.  The number of volumes, in 1840, amounted to 400, of which 100 needed repairing.  Some 50 volumes were added during 1841.  Additions continued to be made from year to year, till the spring of 1850, when the number was increased to 700 volumes.

AGATHA.

Little Agatha was a Sabbath school scholar.  She lived in a rural district of Scotland.  Her father’s dwelling was surrounded by trees and flowers, and near by a little sparkling rivulet wandered onward, now murmuring along by its rocky bed and dancing over bright pebbles, and now wending its way silently through the valley, journeying onward to mingle with kindred waters.

Agatha loved to roam through these shady glens, and often would she stand upon the margin of the little stream, and, gazing down, fancy that she saw a beautiful little angel in the pure waters.  She sometimes waited a long time, hoping it might speak to her, little dreaming that her sweet angel was but the reflection of her own innocent face and golden ringlets from the mirrored surface.  She loved the little brook, and walked among the wild flowers upon its banks, herself as pure and innocent as Spring’s earliest blossoms.  She was never lonely in her rural bowers; for the brook, the birds, and the flowers, ever spoke to her heart in tones of love.

But one day her teacher told her that wicked spirits were ever flying about, trying to lead away little children into their company, and make them as wicked as themselves.  This much disquieted Agatha, for she had never learned before that aught existed save innocence and joy.  At first, she feared to wander out alone, into the “great temple of nature,” as she was wont, lest she should meet some of those malicious beings.  She dared not look into the pure waters, fearing that, instead of the beautiful angel which so often met her gaze, hideous forms might rise and drag her away into their bad company.

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