Only the orphans do not stir,
Of all this bustling train;
They reached their home, this very night,
They will not stir again!
The winter’s breath proved kind to them,
And ended all their pain.
But in their deep and freezing
Clasped rigid to each other,
In dreams they cried, “the bright morn breaks,
Home! home! is here, my brother.
The angel death, has been our friend,
We come! dear father, mother!”
A little boy went to sea with his father to learn to be a sailor. One day, his father said to him, “Come, my boy, you will never be a sailor if you don’t learn to climb.”
The boy was very ambitious, and soon scrambled up to the top of the rigging; but when he saw at what a height he was he began to be frightened, and called out, “Oh, father, I shall fall, what shall I do?”
“Look up—look up, my son,” said his father; “if you look down you will be giddy; but if you keep looking up to the flag at the top of the mast you will descend safely.” The boy followed his father’s advice, and soon came down to the deck of the vessel in safety. You may learn from this story, to look up to Jesus, as the highest example, and as the Saviour of mankind.
THE FLOWER THAT LOOKS UP.
“What beautiful things flowers are,” said one of the party of little girls who were arranging the flowers they had gathered in the pleasant fields. “Which flower would you rather be like, Helen?”
“Just as if there would be any choice,” said Laura. “I like the Rose. I should like to be queen of flowers, or none.” Laura was naturally very proud.
For my part, observed Helen, I should like to resemble the Rhododendron; when any one touches it, or shakes it roughly, it scatters a shower of honey dew from its roseate cups, teaching us to shower blessings upon our enemies. Oh, who does not wish to be as meek as this flower? It is very difficult, I know, said Helen; but we are taught to possess a meek and lowly spirit.
“It is difficult, I know,” said Lucy, “if we trust to our own strength. It is only when my father looks at me in his kind manner, that I have any control of myself. What a pity it is that we cannot always remember that the eye of our Heavenly Father is upon us.” “I wish I could,” said Helen.