Our Gift | Page 9

her hand a sceptre bears,?Whose sway we ne'er dispute.
From whence doth come the wondrous power?She never fails to wield--?Making strong hearts and wills, each hour,?To her light wishes yield?
If but a touch of grief appear?To veil that bright, pure face;?If sickness cast its shadows there,?Or pain its dark lines trace;
How anxious every means we take,?The ill to drive away!?And cheerfully, for her dear sake,?Would watch both night and day.
And when the light of coming health?Brightens that clear, dark eye,?What joy is ours! priceless wealth,?Earth's gold can never buy.
She makes us cast aside our book,?Though filled with learning rare;?To work is vain, when fun's arch look?Those beaming features wear.
Whence is this spell? I can but think?That, in sweet childhood's hour,?E'er yet the soul has learned to drink?From knowledge' fount of power;
Or felt what virtue is, or known?Life's sins, not yet begun;?Or seen how thick life's path is strown?With dangers it must shun;
A spirit pure doth come, to dwell?In these fresh-bursting minds,?Who weaves round them the powerful spell?Our hearts so firmly binds;
Our holier thoughts through them to wake;?Our earth-dimmed vision clear;?And through their purity, to make?All holy things more dear.
If so, where speeds that spirit, when?The soul has gathered strength--?The child, become with busy men,?A busy man at length?
Where has our childhood's spirit gone??How have we lost the charm,?Thus thrown around life's early morn,?Keeping us safe from harm?
Ay! whither speeds it? Rather say?Is it not always by,?Though, through the dust of life's noonday,?We may not see it nigh;
Nor when dark clouds of sin would veil?All glory from our sight;?And make both heart and hope to fail,?And brightness turn to night?
But when, midst virtue's clearer air,?The eye no hindrance knows,?How radiant stands the angel there!?What holy gifts bestows!
My darling niece, whose form of grace?Has made these thoughts arise,?I'm sure this angel oft I trace?In those clear depths--thine eyes.
And bursting forth from my full heart,?My prayers to heaven ascend,?That earth's dark changes ne'er may part?Thee and thy angel friend.
That purity may always be?The medium, clear and bright,?Through which may ever shine on thee?Heaven's own unclouded light.
TEACHERS' LIBRARY.
The Teachers' Library connected with the School street Universalist Sunday school, was commenced in 1841, when 67 volumes were collected for that purpose.--Great care has been taken in selecting volumes for this library. At this time, 1850, it numbers 194 valuable books.
SCHOLARS' LIBRARY.
The foundation of the Scholars' Library, connected with the School street Universalist Sunday school, was laid in the year 1835. The number of volumes, in 1840, amounted to 400, of which 100 needed repairing. Some 50 volumes were added during 1841. Additions continued to be made from year to year, till the spring of 1850, when the number was increased to 700 volumes.
AGATHA.
Little Agatha was a Sabbath school scholar. She lived in a rural district of Scotland. Her father's dwelling was surrounded by trees and flowers, and near by a little sparkling rivulet wandered onward, now murmuring along by its rocky bed and dancing over bright pebbles, and now wending its way silently through the valley, journeying onward to mingle with kindred waters.
Agatha loved to roam through these shady glens, and often would she stand upon the margin of the little stream, and, gazing down, fancy that she saw a beautiful little angel in the pure waters. She sometimes waited a long time, hoping it might speak to her, little dreaming that her sweet angel was but the reflection of her own innocent face and golden ringlets from the mirrored surface. She loved the little brook, and walked among the wild flowers upon its banks, herself as pure and innocent as Spring's earliest blossoms. She was never lonely in her rural bowers; for the brook, the birds, and the flowers, ever spoke to her heart in tones of love.
But one day her teacher told her that wicked spirits were ever flying about, trying to lead away little children into their company, and make them as wicked as themselves. This much disquieted Agatha, for she had never learned before that aught existed save innocence and joy. At first, she feared to wander out alone, into the "great temple of nature," as she was wont, lest she should meet some of those malicious beings. She dared not look into the pure waters, fearing that, instead of the beautiful angel which so often met her gaze, hideous forms might rise and drag her away into their bad company.
But her heart was soon quieted again; for her teacher also told her, that good beings come down from the Spirit-land, to watch over little children, and drive the wicked ones away. So Agatha no longer feared to visit her favorite haunts, for she besought the good spirits to be her guardians. And when at night she retired to her little couch, she prayed the kind angels to watch over and protect