“Then do not mourn for me, Annie, Because that I am blind;-- The beauty of all outward sight; The wondrous shows of day and night; All love, all faith, and all delight, Are strong in heart and mind!” THE POOR CHILD’S HYMN. We are poor and lowly born; With the poor we bide; Labour is our heritage, Care and want beside. What of this? our blessed Lord Was of lowly birth, And poor, toiling fishermen Were his friends on earth! We are ignorant and young; Simple children all; Gifted with but humble powers, And of learning small. What of this? our blessed Lord Loved such as we;-- How he blessed the little ones Sitting on his knee! THE BOY OF THE SOUTHERN ISLE. AN OLD SEAMAN’S STORY. PART I. I’ll tell ye, if ye hearken now, A thing that chanced to me-- It must be fifty years agone-- Upon the southern sea. First-mate was I of the Nancy, A tight ship and a sound; We had made a prosperous voyage, And then were homeward bound. We were sailing on the Tropic seas, Before the trade-wind’s power; Day after day, without delay, Full thirteen knots an hour. The sea was as a glassy lake, By a steady gale impressed; There was nought for any man to do But just what liked him best. And yet the calm was wearisome; The dull days idly sped; And sometimes on a flute I played, Or else a book I read. And dallying thus one afternoon, I stood upon the deck; When far off, to the leeward, I saw a faintish speck. Whether ’twas rock, or fish, or cloud, At first I did not know; So I called unto a seaman, That he might look also. And as it neared, I saw for sure That it must be a boat; But my fellow swore it was not so, But a large bamboo afloat. We called a third unto us then, That he the sight might see; Then came a fourth, a fifth, a sixth; But no two could agree. “Nay, ’tis a little boat,” I said, “And it roweth with an oar!” But none of them could see it so, All differing as before. “It cometh on; I see it plain; It is a boat!” I cried, “A little boat o’erlaid with pearl, And a little child to guide!” And sure enough, a boat it was, And worked with an oar; But such a boat as ’twas, no man Had ever seen before. Within in it sate a little child, The fairest e’er was seen; His robes were like the amethyst, His mantle of sea-green. No covering wore he on his head, And the hair that on it grew Showered down in thick and wavy locks Of the sunniest golden hue. The rudest man on board our ship Blest God that sight to see; For me I could do nought but weep, Such power had it on me.