Who did confess the very truth,
As here hath been displayed:
Their uncle having died in jail,
Where he for debt was laid.

You that executors be made,
And overseers eke

Of children that be fatherless,
And infants mild and meek;
Take you example by this thing,
And yield to each his right,
Lest God with such like misery
Your wicked minds requite.

WE ARE SEVEN.

OLD BALLAD.

SIMPLE child

That lightly draws its breath,

And feels its life in every limb,

What should it know of death?

I met a little cottage girl:

She was eight years old, she said;
Her hair was thick with many a curl

That clustered round her head.

She had a rustic, woodland air,

And she was wildly clad;

Her eyes were fair, and very fair;

-Her beauty made me glad.

We are Seven.

"Sisters and brothers, little maid,

How many may you be?"

"How many? Seven in all," she said,

And wondering, looked at me.

"And where are they? I pray you tell."

She answered, "Seven are we;
And two of us at Conway dwell,

And two are gone to sea.

Two of us in the church-yard lie,
My sister and my brother;

And, in the church-yard cottage, I
Dwell near them with my mother."

"You say that two at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea,

Yet ye are seven!—I pray you tell,
Sweet maid, how this may be?"

Then did the little maid reply,
"Seven boys and girls are we;
Two of us in the church-yard lie,
Beneath the church-yard tree."

"You run about, my little maid, Your limbs they are alive;

If two are in the church-yard laid,

Then ye are only five."

"Their graves are green, they may be seen," The little maid replied,

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Twelve steps or more from my mother's door, And they are side by side.

My stockings there I often knit,
My kerchief there I hem;

And there upon the ground I sit--
I sit and sing to them.

And often after sunset, sir,
When it is light and fair,
I take my little porringer,
And eat my supper there.

The first that died was little Jane;
In bed she moaning lay,

Till God released her of her pain;

And then she went away.

So in the church-yard she was laid;

And all the summer dry,

Together round her grave we played,

My brother John and I.

And when the ground was white with snow,

And I could run and slide,

My brother John was forced to go,

And he lies by her side."

"How many are you then," said I,

"If they two are in heaven ?".

The little maiden did reply,

"O master! we are seven."

"But they are dead; those two are dead!

Their spirits are in heaven!"

'Twas throwing words away: for still The little maid would have her will,

And said, "Nay, we are seven!"

WORDSWORTH.

A Story of Heaven.

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A STORY OF HEAVEN.

EFORE a lowland cottage,

With climbing roses gay,

I stood one summer's eve, to watch

Two children at their play.

All round the garden walks they ran,

Filling the air with glee,

Till they were tired, and sat them down
Beneath an old oak tree.

I almost think I never shall,
For often, in my sleep,
I dream that I am dying—
-Nay, sister, do not weep!

It is a joyful thing to die;
For, though this world is fair,
I see a lovelier in my dreams,
And I fancy I am there.

I fancy I am taken there

As soon as I have died;

And I roam through all the pleasant place,

With an angel by my side.

To that bright world I long to go;

I would not linger here,

But for my gentle mother's sake,

And yours, my sister dear!

And when I read my book to her,
Or when I play with you,
I quite forget that glorious land,
And the blessed angel too.

But oft, when I am weary

Of my books and of my play,

Those pleasant dreams come back again, And steal my heart away.

And I wish that you, sweet sister!
And my mother dear, and I,
Could shut our eyes upon this world,
And, all together, die."

Then spake his fair-haired sister,

In tones serene and low:

Oh, if Heaven is such a pleasant place,

Dear brother, let us go!

Our mother wept when our father died, Till her bright eyes were dim;

And I know she longs to go to heaven, That she may be with him."

"So let us all together do!"

The thoughtful boy replied :—

"Ah, no! we cannot go to heaven, Until that we have died.

And, sister, we must be content

Upon this earth to stay,

Till the blessed Saviour, Jesus Christ, Shall call our souls away!"