Next of those concentric circles, radiating widely in circumference, Wheel in wheel, and world in world,--come the band of children: A tender nest of soft young hearts, each to be separately studied, A curious eager flock of minds, to be severally tamed and tutored. And a man, blest with these, hath made his own society, He is independent of the world, hanging on his friends more loosely: For the little faces round his hearth are friends enow for him, If he seek others, it is for sake of these, and less for his own pleasure. What companionship so sweet, yea, who can teach so well As these pure budding intellects, and bright unsullied hearts? What voice so musical as theirs, what visions of elegance so comely, What thoughts and hopes and holy prayers, can others cause like these? If ye count society for pastime,--what happier recreation than a nurseling, Its winning ways, its prattling tongue, its innocence and mirth? If ye count society for good,--how fair a field is here, To guide these souls to God, and multiply thyself for heaven! And this sweet social commerce with thy children groweth as their growth, Unless thou fail of duty, or have weaned them by thine absence. Keep them near thee, rear them well, guide, correct, instruct them; And be the playmate of their games, the judge in their complainings. So shall the maiden and the youth love thee as their sympathizing friend, And bring their joys to share with thee, their sorrows for consoling: Yea, their inmost hopes shall yearn to thee for counsel, They will not hide their very loves, if thou hast won their trust; But, even as man and woman, shall they gladly seek their father, Feeling yet as children feel, though void of fear in honour: And thou shall be a Nestor in the camp, the just and good old man, Hearty still, though full of years, and held the friend of all; No secret shall be kept from thee; for if ill, thy wisdom may repair it; If well, thy praise is precious; and they would not miss that prize. O the blessing of a home, where old and young mix kindly, The young unawed, the old unchilled, in unreserved communion! O that refuge from the world, when a stricken son or daughter May seek, with confidence of love, a father's hearth and heart; Sure of a welcome, though others cast them out; of kindness, though men scorn them; And finding there the last to blame, the earliest to commend. Come unto me, my son, if sin shall have tempted thee astray, I will not chide thee like the rest, but help thee to return; Come unto me, my son, if men rebuke and mock thee, There always shall be one to bless,--for I am on thy side! [Illustration]