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"I SAW a little lamb to-day,
It was not very old ;
Close by its mother's side it lay—
So soft within the fold:
It felt no sorrow, pain, or fear,
While such a comforter was near.
"Sweet little lamb, you cannot know
What blessings I have lost :
Were you like me, what could you do
Amid the wintry frost?
My clothes are thin, my food is poor,
And I must beg from door to door.
"I had a mother once, like you,
To keep me by her side:
She cherish'd me, and loved me too,
But soon, alas! she died.
Now sorrowful, and full of care,
I'm lone and weary everywhere.
"I must not
weep and break my
They tell me not to grieve:
Sometimes I wish I could depart,
And find a peaceful grave.
They say such sorrows never come
To those who slumber in the tomb."
"Twas thus a little orphan sang,
Her lonely heart to cheer :-
Before she wander'd very long,
She found a Saviour near:
He bade her seek his smiling face,
And find in heaven a dwelling-place.
THE Frost look'd forth, one still clear night,
And whisper'd, "Now, I shall be out of sight;
So through the valley and over the height,
In silence I'll take my way;
I will not go on like that blustering train,
The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain,
Who make so much bustle and noise in vain ;-
But I'll be as busy as they."
Then he flew to the mountain, and powder'd its crest;
He lit on the trees, and their boughs he dress'd
In diamond beads-and over the breast
Of the quivering lake he spread
A coat of mail, that it need not fear
The downward point of many a spear
That he hung on its margin, far and near,
Where a rock could rear its head.
He went to the windows of those who slept,
And over each pane, like a fairy, crept;
Wherever he breath'd, wherever he stept,
By the light of the moon were seen
Most beautiful things;-there were flowers and trees; There were bevies of birds and swarms of bees; There were cities with temples and towers, and these All pictured in silver sheen!
But he did one thing that was hardly fair;
He peep'd in the cupboard, and finding there
That all had forgotten for him to prepare-
"Now just to set them a thinking,
I'll bite this basket of fruit," said he,
This costly pitcher I'll burst in three,
And the glass of water they've left for me
Shall 'tchick!' to tell them I'm drinking."
THE COMPLAINTS OF THE POOR.
AND wherefore do the poor complain?-
The rich man ask'd of me,-
Come, walk abroad with me, I said,
And I will answer thee.