Kindness to animals is no unworthy exercise of benevolence. We hold that the life of brutes perishes with their breath, and that they are never to be clothed again with consciousness. The inevitable shortness then of their existence should plead for them touchingly. The insects on the surface of the water, poor ephemeral things, who would needlessly abridge their dancing pleasure of to-day? Such feelings we should have towards the whole animate creation. --_Sir Arthur Helps._ 83 THE GRACIOUS ANSWER. (The first half of each stanza should be subdued; the last half confident and full of assurance.) The way is dark, my Father! Cloud on cloud Is gathering thickly o'er my head, and loud The thunders roar above me. See, I stand Like one bewildered! Father, take my hand, And through the gloom Lead safely home Thy child! The way is dark, my child! But leads to light. I would not always have thee walk by sight. My dealings now thou canst not understand. I meant it so; but I will take thy hand, And through the gloom Lead safely home My child! The day goes fast, my Father! And the night Is growing darkly down. My faithless sight Sees ghostly visions. Fears, a spectral band, Encompass me. O Father! Take my hand, And from the night Lead up to light Thy child! The day goes fast, my child! But is the night Darker to me than Day? In me is light! Keep close to me, and every spectral band Of fears shall vanish. I will take thy hand, And through the night Lead up to light My child! The way is long, my Father! And my soul Longs for the rest and quiet of the goal; While yet I journey through this weary land, Keep me from wandering. Father, take my hand; Quickly and straight Lead to Heaven's gate Thy child! The way is long, my child! But it shall be Not one step longer than is best for thee; And thou shalt know, at last, when thou shalt stand Safe at the goal, how I did take thy hand, And quick and straight Lead to Heaven's gate My child! The path is rough, my Father! Many a thorn Has pierced me; and my weary feet, all torn And bleeding, mark the way. Yet Thy command Bids me press forward. Father, take my hand; Then, safe and blest, Lead up to rest Thy child! The path is rough, my child! But oh! how sweet Will be the rest, for weary pilgrims meet, When thou shalt reach the borders of that land