COWPER'S CHILDHOOD. 31 COWPER'S CHILDHOOD. WHERE once we dwelt our name is heard no more. 'Tis now become a history little known, That once we called the pastoral house our own. That memory keeps of all thy kindness there, Still outlives many a storm, that has effaced That thou might'st know me safe and warmly laid, The biscuit, or confectionary plum; The fragrant waters on my cheeks bestowed By thy own hand, till fresh they shone and glowed: All this, and more endearing still than all, Thy constant flow of love, that knew no fall, And still to be so to my latest age, Adds joy to duty, makes me glad to pay Such honours to thee as my numbers may; Perhaps a frail memorial, but sincere, Not scorned in heaven, though little noticed here. I pricked them into paper with a pin (And thou wast happier than myself the while, Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head, and smile). Could those few pleasant days again appear, Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here? I would not trust my heart-the dear delight CATECHISING. 33 CATECHISING. H! say not, dream not, heavenly notes That the young mind at random floats, Dim or unheard the words may fall, Was not our Lord a little child, Taught by degrees to pray, By father dear and mother mild Instructed day by day? And loved He not of Heaven to talk What though around His throne of fire The everlasting chant Be wafted from the seraph choir In glory jubilant? Yet stoops He, ever pleased to mark Faint as the pipe of wakening lark, Heard by some twilight grove : E Yet is He near us, to survey These bright and ordered files, Like spring-flowers in their best array, All silence and all smiles. Save that each little voice in turn Some glorious truth proclaims, And if some tones be false or low, Than we o'er children weak: And yet His words mean more than they, From infants' simple lays? THE SLEEPING BABE. 35 CHILD-PIETY. IT is a beauteous evening, calm and free; The gentleness of heaven is on the sea: Dear child! dear girl! that walkest with me here, THE SLEEPING BABE. "She is not dead, but sleepeth."-Luke viii. 52. THE baby wept ; The mother took it from the nurse's arms, And soothed its grief, and stilled its vain alarms, Again it weeps, And God doth take it from the mother's arms, |