THE GOOD BOY’S HYMN ON GOING TO BED.

    How sweet to lay my weary head
    Upon my quiet little bed,
    And feel assured, that all day long
    I have not knowingly done wrong!

    How sweet to hear my mother say,
    “You have been very good to-day!”
    How sweet to see my father’s joy
    When he can say, “My dear, good boy!”

    How sweet it is my thoughts to send
    To many a dear-loved distant friend,
    And feel, if they my heart could see,
    How very happy they would be!

    How sweet to think that He whose love
    Made all these shining worlds above
    My pure and happy heart can see,
    And loves a little boy like me.

[Illustration]

GOD IS GOOD.

    Thou art good!  Each perfumed flower,
      Waving fields, the dark green wood,
    The insect fluttering for an hour,—­
      All things proclaim that God is good.

    I hear it in each breath of wind;
      The hills that have for ages stood,
    And clouds with gold and silver lined,
      All still repeat that God is good.

    Each little rill, that many a year
      Has the same verdant path pursued,
    And every bird, in accents clear,
      Joins in the song that God is good.

    The restless sea, with haughty roar,
      Calms each wild wave and billow rude,
    Retreats submissive from the shore,
      And swells the chorus, “God is good.”

    The countless hosts of twinkling stars,
      That sing his praise with light renewed;
    The rising sun each day declares,
      In rays of glory, God is good.

    The moon, that walks in brightness, says,
      That God is good! and man, endued
    With power to speak his Maker’s praise,
      Should still repeat that God is good.

EVENING.

    How beautiful the setting sun! 
      The clouds how bright and gay! 
    The stars, appearing one by one,
      How beautiful are they!

    And when the moon climbs up the sky,
      And sheds her gentle light,
    And hangs her crystal lamp on high,
      How beautiful is night!

    And can it be I am possessed
      Of something brighter far? 
    Glows there a light within this breast
      Outshining every star?

    Yes; should the sun and stars turn pale,
      The mountains melt away,
    This flame within shall never fail,
      But live in endless day.

    This is the soul that God has given,—­
      Sin may its lustre dim;
    While goodness bears it up to heaven,
      And leads it back to him.

ROBINSON CRUSOE’S HYMN.

    My Heavenly Father! all I see,
      Around me and above,
    Sends forth a hymn of praise to thee,
      And speaks thy boundless love.