Thanks to the recent improvements in the musical instruction of the young, every family can now form a domestic concert, with words and tunes adapted to the capacity and the voices of children; and while these little ones, full of animation, pressed round their mother as she sat at the piano, and accompanied her music with the words of some beautiful hymns, I thought that, though I might have heard finer music, I had never listened to any that answered the purpose of music so well. It was a custom at my friend's to retire at an early hour on Saturday evening, in order that there might be abundant time for rest, and no excuse for late rising on the Sabbath; and, accordingly, when the children had done singing, after a short season of family devotion, we all betook ourselves to our chambers, and I, for one, fell asleep with the impression of having finished the week most agreeably, and with anticipations of very great pleasure on the morrow. Early in the morning I was roused from my sleep by the sound of little voices singing with great animation in the room next to mine, and, listening, I caught the following words:-- "Awake! awake! your bed forsake, To God your praises pay; The morning sun is clear and bright; With joy we hail his cheerful light. In songs of love Praise God above-- It is the Sabbath day!" The last words were repeated and prolonged most vehemently by a voice that I knew for Master William's. "Now, Willie, I like the other one best," said the soft voice of little Susan; and immediately she began,-- "How sweet is the day, When, leaving our play, The Saviour we seek! The fair morning glows When Jesus arose-- The best in the week." Master William helped along with great spirit in the singing of this tune, though I heard him observing, at the end of the first verse, that he liked the other one better, because "it seemed to step off so kind o' lively;" and his accommodating sister followed him as he began singing it again with redoubled animation. It was a beautiful summer morning, and the voices of the children within accorded well with the notes of birds and bleating flocks without--a cheerful, yet Sabbath-like and quieting sound. "Blessed be children's music!" said I to myself; "how much better this is than the solitary tick, tick, of old Uncle Fletcher's tall mahogany clock!"