THE VIOLET. "Oh, mother! mother! only look! See what I've got for thee; I found it close beside the brook,-- This pretty violet,--see. "And father says there will be more So, mother, when they come, We'll pick my little basket full, And bring them with us home. "And, mother,--only listen now! 'Tis very strange, indeed,-- This pretty flower, with leaves and all, Was once a little seed. "When it was planted in the ground, The sun shone very bright, And made the little seed so warm, It grew with all its might." "Yes, Charles: the bright sun made it warm, 'Twas wet with rain and dew; The leaves came first, and then, ere long, We found the violet blue. "Charley, I think when we are good, Obedient, and kind, Good feelings, like the little flowers, Are growing in the mind. "But when we suffer evil thoughts To grow and flourish there, Then they are like the noxious weeds, That choke the flowerets fair." CHILD'S TALENT God intrusts to all Talents, few or many; None so young or small, That they have not any. Though the great and wise May have more in number, Yet my own I prize, And they must not slumber. Little drops of rain. Bring the springing flowers; And I may attain Much by little powers. Every little mite, Every little measure, Helps to spread the light, Helps to swell the treasure. THE STARS ARE COMING. "See, the stars are coming In the far blue skies; Mother, look! they brighten; Are they angels' eyes?" "No, my child; the lustre Of the stars is given, Like the hues of flowers, By the God of heaven." "Mother, if I study, Sure He'll make me know Why the stars He kindled, O'er our earth to glow?" "Child! what God created, Has a glorious aim; Thine it is to worship,-- Thine to love His name." THE FLOWERS. God might have made the earth bring forth Enough for great and small, The oak tree and the cedar tree, Without a flower at all. He might have made enough,--enough For every want of ours,-- For luxury, medicine, and food, And yet have made no flowers. Then wherefore, wherefore were they made, And dyed with rainbow light, All fashioned with supremest grace, Upspringing day and night. In fertile valleys, green and low, And on the mountains high, And in the silent wilderness, Where no one passes by. Our outward life requires them not,-- Then wherefore had they birth? To minister delight to man, And beautify the earth. To comfort man,--to whisper hope, Whene'er his faith is dim; For He, who careth for the flowers, Will surely care for him. LITTLE BY LITTLE.