'Twas not a bird with plumage gay, Filling the air with its morning lay; 'Twas not an eagle bold and strong, Borne on the tempest's wing along. 22 THE SPARROW'S FALL. Only a brown and weesome thing, With drooping head and listless wing; It could not drift beyond His sight Who marshals the splendid stars of night. Its dying chirp fell on His ears, Who tunes the music of the spheres, Who hears the hungry lion's call, And spreads a table for us all. Its mission of song at last is done, No more will it greet the rising sun; That tiny bird has found a rest More calm than its mother's downy breast Oh, restless heart, learn thou to trust In God, so tender, strong and just; In whose love and mercy everywhere His humblest children have a share. If in love He numbers ev'ry hair, Whether the strands be dark or fair, Shall we not learn to calmly rest, Like children, on our Father's breast? GOD BLESS OUR NATIVE LAND. 23 GOD BLESS OUR NATIVE LAND. God bless our native land, Land of the newly free, Oh may she ever stand For truth and liberty. God bless our native land, Where sleep our kindred dead, Let peace at thy command Above their graves be shed. God help our native land, Bring surcease to her strife, And shower from thy hand A more abundant life. God bless our native land, Her homes and children bless, Oh may she ever stand For truth and righteousness. 24 DANDELIONS. DANDELIONS. Welcome children of the Spring, In your garbs of green and gold, Lifting up your sun-crowned heads On the verdant plain and wold. As a bright and joyous troop From the breast of earth ye came Fair and lovely are your cheeks, With sun-kisses all aflame. In the dusty streets and lanes, Where the lowly children play, There as gentle friends ye smile, Making brighter life's highway Dewdrops and the morning sun, Weave your garments fair and bright, And we welcome you to-day As the children of the light. Children of the earth and sun. We are slow to understand All the richness of the gifts Flowing from our Father's hand. THE BUILDING. 25 Were our vision clearer far, In this sin-dimmed world of ours, Would we not more thankful be For the love that sends us flowers? Welcome, early visitants, With your sun-crowned golden hair, With your message to our hearts Of our Father's loving care. THE BUILDING. "Build me a house," said the Master, "But not on the shifting sand, Mid the wreck and roar of tempests, A house that will firmly stand. "I will bring thee windows of agates, And gates of carbuncles bright, And thy fairest courts and portals Shall be filled with love and light.