THE GARLAND.

Otago Witness, Issue 3245, 24 May 1916, Page 69

THE GARLAND.

FOE THE QUIET HOUR. No. 143. By Duncan Wright, Dunedin. boxnT bits fou bonny BAIRNS. THE CRY OF THE CHILDREN. Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers, Ere the sorrow comes with years? They are leaning their young heads against their mothers, —- And that cannot stop their tears. The young lambs are bleating in the meadows; The young birds are chirping in the nest; The young fawns arc playing with the •shadows; The young flowers are blowing toward the west — But the young, young children, O ruy brothers, They are weeping bitterly! They are weeping in the playtime of the others. In the country of the free. Now tell the poor young children. O my brothers, That they look to Him and pray— So the biessed One, Who biessoth all the others, Will bless them another day. They answer: "'Who is God that He should hear us, While the rush of the iron wheels is stirred ? When we sob aloud, the human creatures near us Pass by, hearing not. or answer not a word! "And tve hear not (for the wheels in their resounding) Strangers speaking at the door; Is it likely God. with angels sinking round Him, Hears our weeping any more?" And well may the children weep before you; They are weary ere they run; They have never seen the sunshine, nor the glory Which is brighter than the sun: They know the grief of men, but not the wisdom ; They sink in the despair, without the calm— Are slaves, without the liberty in Chri, Ldoin— Are martyrs, by the pang without the palm,— Are worn, as if with ago, yet unretrievingly No dear remembrance keep,— Are orphans of the earthly love and heavenly: Let them weep! let them weep! Mis Browning. THE NEW CHILD'S PRAYER. "God bless my mother and daddy, and •send daddy safe back from France. If the Zeppelins come, make the Germans not see London or any other place; make the bombs not hit our house. Make the Germans kind to Uncle Davy (a soldier prisoner of war in Germany) and please, God, let England win the war soon." "Amen/' say we all. KEEP SWEET. I've a little secret Worth its weight in gold, Easy to remember, Easy to be told; Turning every blessing, Every curse we meet, Turning earth to heaven: Only this—" Keep sweet." Sweet when things are bitter, Sweet when things are sad; Giving songs for sighing, Making others glad. In the busy household, On the noisy street, Everywhere and always Jesus, keep me sweet! A HINT FOR SOMEBODY. When Henry Drummond (whom I had the joy of knowing) was a child, the Rev. James Robertson, a noted children's preacher, held a service for all the Sabbath Schools of Stirling (Scotland), in Erskine United Presbyterian Church. The building was so crowded that Henry and two other boys were taken into the pulpit. Mr Robertson began his sermon by saying that the Bible is like a tree, each book a branch, each chapter a twig, and each verse a leaf. "My text is on the thirtyninth branch, the third twig, and the sevententh leaf. Try and find°it for me." Almost immediaely Henry slipped from behind him and said, "Malachi, third and seventeen." "Right my boy; now take my place and read it out,"' Then from the pulpit came the silvery voice : "And they shall be Mine, saith the Lord of Hosts, in that day when I make up thy jewels." Mr Robertson laid his hand on the boy's head and said, "Well done. I hope you will be a minister." In all broad Scotland there was no finer Christian gentleman; and as a teacher, a scholar, and preacher, he occupied a foremost place. Jane Taylor wrote : I thank the goodness and the grace Which on my birth have smiled, And made mo, in these Christian days, A happy Christian child. Goldsmith wrote : By sports like these are all their cares beguil'd, The sports of children satisfy the child. I daresay the young people who read, and write" to, the Witness know where to find the words : "And the streets of the city shall be full of boys and girls playing in the streets thereof." Or the following : "And the Lord said, Whereunto shall I liken the men of this generation? and to what are they like ? "They arc like children sitting in the market-place, and calling one to another and saying, Wo have piped unto you, and you have not danced; wo have mourned to you, and ye have not wept." Another poetess sang : Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight! Make me a child again, just for to-night.

Milton wrote : The childhood shows the man, As morn shows the day. Moore wrote : Oh, ever thus, from childhood's hour I've seen my fondest hopes-decay; I never loved a tree or flower But 'twas the first to fade away. Wordsworth wrote : Sweet childish days, that were as long As twenty days are now. Thomas Hood wrote :—■ I remember, I remember The fir trees dark and high; I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky; It was a childish ignorance, But now 'tis little joy To know I'm further off from heaven Than when 1 was a boy. ANOTHER PBAYER FOE DADDY. With the shadows round her stealing, Every night I see her there, Just a little figure kneeling By the .side of daddy's chair; And the silence is unbroken, — Not one whisper reaches me, But I know though 'tis unspoken, What the prayer is sure to be. Clasped together are the tiny Little p leader's finger tips, Tho' tiie eyes with tears are shiny, There's a smile upon the lips. 'Tis no b-.on of her own needing Those sweet iipa are asking for, But the gentle, trustful pleading, "God bless daddy at the war.'' Do many young readers know about Charles Dickens and his wonderful Looks? He was not what is called a church member; but what splendid sermons he preached on the Golden Rule! Beautiful! One of the best stories is about David Copperfield. Then little Neil used to take her Bible to read on the quiet, lonely retreat of the old church. Oliver Twist read the Bible to Mrs Mayiio and Rose Fleming; Pip read the Bible to, and prayed with, a convict under sentence of death; Scrooge heard Tiny Tim say, "And He called a little child to Him,'and set him in the midst"; and when Jo (poor Jo!) was on his death-bed he was asked : "Did you ever know a prayer, Jo?" "Never knowed nothink, sir." "Not one short prayer?" "No, sir, nothink at all." "Jo, can you say what I say?" "I'll say any think as you say, sir, for I know it's good." "Our Father " "Our Father ! Yes that's werry good, sir." "Which art in heaven." "Art in heaven —is the light a-coming, sir ?" "It is close at hand. Hallowed be Thy name !" "Hallowed be—Thy " The light is come upon the dark, benighted way! Dead! And dying thus around us every day. A THOUGHTFUL GIEL. Oh, mother, you look so tired to-night, Just let me sweep the room! I soon will make it so tidy and bright,— Please paas me that little broom! I'm getting a big girl now, you know; Why, to-morrow week I'll be eight. It is time I learned to dust and sew, And even to polish the grate. So Marjory worked with a right good will, And cheerily wielded her broom, Then polished and dusted and scoured until You would hardly have known that room. And the mother's face so pale and worn, And lined with the cares of years, With the countless troubles her soul had borne, The numerous doubts and fears, Grow bright as she gazed on her little girl, And she thanked the Father above, For the gift more precious than priceless pearls— The gift of a child's pure love. Anon. POOR SANDIE AND REUBY. Two gentlemen were standing on one of the Edinburgh streets on a very cold day when a poor, thin, little boy with bare feet red with the cold, and nothing but rags to cover him, came and said, "Please, sir, buy some matches." "No! Don't want any," the gentleman said. "But they are only a penny a box,'' the little fellow pleaded. "Yes; but you see we don't want a box," the gentleman said again. "Then I'll gie ye twa boxes for a penny," the boy said at last. "And so to get rid of him," the gentleman says, "I bought a box, but found I had no change, so I said, T will buy a box to-morrow.' " "Oh, do buy them the nicht, if you please," the boy pleaded again. "I'll run and get the change, for I'm very hungry." So I gave him a shilling, and he dived away; but I waited for him, but no boy came. Well, late in the evening, a servant came and said that a little boy wanted to see me. I found he was a smaller brother of the boy who got my shilling, but more ragged if possible. "Are you," Ire said, "the gentleman that bocht the matches frae Sandie?" "Yes." "Weel, then, here's fourpence oot o' yer shillin'; Sandie canna come; he's no weel. A cart run over him and knocked him doon; he lost his bannet, and his matches, and your sevenpenee; an' baith his legs are broken, an' the doctor says he'll dee." So I fed the little man and went to see Sandie. The two little creatures lived with a drunken stepmother. Sandie lay on a heap of straw; but he was able to say t<> me, "I got the change, sir, and was comin' back, and then the horse knocked me doon and broke my legs. And Oh, Reuby, little Reuby ! I'm shair I'm deein', and wha'll care for Reuby when I'm gaue. What wil] ye dae, JReuby?" Then I took the poor little sufferer's hand, and told him I would care for Reuby. He understood me, and just had strength to look at me as if lie would thank me; then tho light went out of Ids blue eyes, and, in a moment, "He lay within*the light of God."

You moon! have you got any God in the sky? That we should bo scorned by passers by, And left in the street to starve and die — Bessie and I. We've been thrust away from many a door; And we only asked lor the alms of the poor, A c-!i;st of bread and a bud on the floor — Bessie and I. We're hungrv and tired, and sore are our feet, From treading - so long up and down the street Thro' the blinding storm of snow aud sleet— Bessie and I. I guess I'll make a bed in the snow, For Sis is so tired, aud then you know In all this city we've nowhere to go— Bessie and I. We'd go to heaven if it wasn't so high, But maybe the angels will come by and by, And carry us up to the bright blue sky— Bessie and 1.