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And strews with flowers the smiling meads." The changing seasons must always be regarded with interest and delight. Whether we look at balmy Spring, fruitful Summer, luscious Autumn, or stern Winter, each has its peculiar beauties, and all have charms by which they are endeared to us.
“These, as they change, Almighty Father! these
Early at this season of the year the trees and flowers begin to put forth their leaves and blossoms, and nature puts on her “ beautiful mantle of green.” “ The bee ventures from its hive at mid-day, and tries the earliest opening flowers that possess any portion of mellifluous* dust. The ynats play about, the earth-worm peeps out, and all seem to welcome the approach of Spring.”
Swallows, and other migratory birds, now begin to return to our shores, which they had ? been compelled to leave during the winter, in search of a more hospitable climate. Guided by an unerring instinct, they arrive hither as summer advances, and as it recedes they migrate to other lands. They may now be seen on the wing, ever and anon skimming along the surface of the ground, and again mounting up into the liquid air, their forked tail serving them for a rudder, whereby they are enabled to steer along in their rapid course !
The ground is also prepared to receive the seed, and no means are left untried by which the husbandman thinks he can secure a good and plentiful harvest. A striking emblem of youth the spring-time of life! Then we look forward with joyful anticipations to the uncertain future; then we calculate our plans, form
• Sweet, or that from which honey may be obtained
sanguine expectations of our success in after life, and draw for ourselves pleasing pictures of future happiness. But alas ! how often are our expectations like those of the husbandman, withered by cold and chilling blasts ! Let us, then, like that husbandman, use all lawful means; and above all, seek for the guidance and direction of Him who has said, " They that seek me early shall find me.”
Let us, then, redeem the spriug of life!-let us devote our young and blooming years to the service of our Creator !-let us seek for the forgiveness of our sins, and the renewing of our natures through our blessed Redeemer; and then, when the storms of adversity and affliction sweep over us, and when the winter of life steals upon us, we shall be only ripening for that happy land, where
"Everlasting Spring abides,
And never-withering flowers ;" — And there, as eternal ages roll along, we shall be employed in hymning the grand song of praise to our Creator and Redeemer, “ Unto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood, and bath made us kings and priests unto God, unto him be glory and dominion for ever and ever!”
A SONG OF THE SEASONS. WHEN Winter's snows have passed away, and the fields are
fresh and green, And bursting from the buds, the leaves upon the trees are
seen; And little birds begin to build their nests and gaily sing, Then we are glad to see again the pleasant season, Spring.
And now the busy gardener begins his yearly round,
ground; The farmer also sows his corn, that from the ripen'd ear We may have meal to make our bread, and malt to brew
In the cheerful month of May, when the long warm days “I WOULD I WERE A LITTLE BIRD.”
are come, And swallows from a distant land have found their summer
home; Oh! then the cherries, plums, and pears, will show their
blossoms white, And apple-trees, all pink with bloom, will be a lovely sight. Soon the tall grass must be cut down, and dried for hay so
sweet, Which when the winter comes again, the cows and horses
eat; And the thick fleece from sheep and lambs is shear'd to keep
'them cool, And we have comfortable clothes, made from their useful
wool. 'Tis Autumn when the corn lifts high its yellow ripen'd ears, And the farmer very joyfully for reaping it prepares :, And then he stores it in his barn, to keep it safe, until It can be thresh'd and winnow'd, and made ready for the
mill. The apples too are rosy red, and fit for gathering in, And soon to crush them in the press for cider they'll begin : The tempting backberries are ripe, and in the hedge-rows
near, Hang the brown nut and purple sloe, the last fruits of the
How grey and cold the mornings are, the evening closes fast, The leaves are changing colour, and fall with every blast;. The farmer guides his plough, to turn the furrows straight
and neat, And with his barrow breaks the clods, and then he sows the
wheat. The labours of the field are done, for Winter comes once
more; The streams are stiff with ice, and hard the pond is frozen
o'er; The cattle ask their winter food, and on the leafless bough, The birds for crimson berries seek, their only nurture pow. Our Heav'nly Father heeds the wants of every thing that
Seed-time and harvest, summer's heat, and winter's cold he
gives; The leaf, the blossom, and the fruit, each in its season due : Oh! may we ever own his power, and trust and love him too.
From “ Hymns for Infant Schools."
“ I WOULD I WERE A LITTLE BIRD.”
“ I WOULD I were a little bird,
To fly so far and high;
And through the azure sky.
Up from the ocean spring;
His ray should gild my wing.
Far down the crimson west;
Ere yet I sought my rest.