16. “Let us now, my son, pray to our heavenly Father to prepare us for this blessedness, that where he is, there we may be also.” Frank and his mother knelt together, and offered up the following prayer:—
17. Almighty and most merciful Father! teach us thy will, that we may know how to please thee. Put good thoughts into our hearts, and right words into our lips, that our services may be such as thou wilt please to accept.
18. Forgive, we pray thee, the sins we have committed this day, in thought, word, or deed, and make us truly sorry on account of them. Help us to love thee more, and serve thee better, for the time to come.
19. Bless all our friends, and make them thy friends. Make us a household serving thee, that after this life is over, we may all meet in heaven.
20. O then, great Shepherd, who neither slumberest nor sleepest, take us under thy protection this night; and when the cheerful light of day again returns, lead us forth in thy fold, and keep us from every temptation that will draw us away from thee.
21. May our peaceful slumbers remind us of the sleep of death; and, on the morning of the resurrection, wilt thou clothe us in the righteousness of Christ, and receive us to dwell with him in life everlasting! Amen.
Mary Dow.—H.F. GOULD.
1. “Come in, little stranger,” I said, As she tapped at my half-opened door, While the blanket pinned over her head Just reached to the basket she bore.
2. A look full of innocence fell From her modest and pretty blue eye, As she said, “I have matches to sell, And hope you are willing to buy.
3. “A penny a bunch is the price; I think you’ll not find it too much; They’re tied up so even and nice, And ready to light with a touch.”
4. I asked, “What’s your name, little girl?” “’Tis Mary,” said she,—“Mary Dow,” And carelessly tossed off a curl, That played o’er her delicate brow.
5. “My father was lost in the deep,— The ship never got to the shore; And mother is sad, and will weep, When she hears the wind blow and sea roar.
6. “She sits there at home, without food, Beside our poor sick Willie’s bed; She paid all her money for wood, And so I sell matches for bread.
7. “For every time that she tries Some things she’d be paid for to make, And lays down the baby, it cries, And that makes my sick brother wake.
8. “I’d go to the yard and get chips, But, then, it would make me too sad, To see men there building the ships, And think they had made one so bad.
9. “I’ve one other gown, and, with care, We think it may decently