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There's a good time coming, boys,

A good time coming :
War in all men's eyes shall be
A monster of iniquity,

In the good time coming.
Nations shall not quarrel then

To prove which is the stronger,
Nor slaughter men for glory's sake ;-

Wait a little longer.
There's a good time coming, boys,

A good time coming :
Hateful rivalries of creed
Shall not make their martyrs bleed,

In the good time coming.
Religion shall be shorn of pride,

And flourish all the stronger ;
And charity shall trim her lamp ;-

Wait a little longer.
There's a good time coming, boys,

A good time coming :
And a poor man's family
Shall not be in misery,

In the good time coming. Every child shall be a help

To make his right arm stronger
The happier he, the more he has ;-

Wait a little longer.
There's a good time coming, boys,

A good time coming ;
Little children shall not toil,
Under or above the soil,

In the good time coming ;
But shall play in healthful fields,

Till limbs and mind grow stronger And every one shall read and write

Wait a little longer.
There's a good time coming, boys,

A good time coming :
They shall pledge eternal hate,
'Gainst all that can intoxicate,

In the good time coming. They shall use and not abuse,

And make all virtue stronger ; The reformation has begun ;

Wait a little longer.

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There's a good time coming, boys,

A good time coming :
Let us aid it all we can,
Every woman, every man,

The good time coming.
Smallest helps, if rigntly given,

Make the impulse stronger ;
'Twill be strong enough one day ;
Wait a little er.

CHARLES MACKAY.

THE TRUANT BOYS.
The month was August and the morning coul,

When Hal and Ned,
To walk together to the neighbouring school,

Rose early from their bed.
When near the school, Hal said, “why con your task,

Demure and prim ?
Ere we go in, let me one question ask,

Ned shall we go and swim ?”
Fearless of future punishment or blame,

Away they hied,
Through many a verdant field, until they came

Unto the river's side.
The broad stream narrowed in its onward course,

And deep and still
It silent ran, yet with rapid force,

To turn a neighbouring mill.
Under the mill an arch gaped wide, and seemed

The jaws of death !
Through this the smooth, deceitful waters teemed.

On dreadful wheels beneath.
They swim the river wide, nor think, nor case :-

The waters flow,
And by the current strong, they carried are

Into the mill stream now.
Through the swift waters as young Ned was rolled,

The gulf when near,
On a kind brier by chance he laid fast hold,

And stopped his dread career.
But luckless Hal was by the mill wheel torn ;-

A warning sad !
And the untimely death all friends now mourn
Of this poor truant lad.

A. TAYLOR.

REMEMBRANCES. I REMEMBER, I remember,

The house where I was born,
The little window, where the sun

Came peeping in at morn.
He never came a wink too soon,

Nor brought too long a day;
But now, I often wish the night
Had borne

my
breath

away I remember, I remember,

The roses red and white, The violets and the lily-cups,

Those flow'rets made of light;
The lilacs where the robins built,

And where my brother set
The laburnum, on his birth-day-

The tree is living yet!
I remember, I remember,

Where was used to swing,
And through the air would rush as fresh

As swallows on the wing ;
My spirit flew in feathers, then,

That is so heavy now,
And summer pools could hardly cool

The fever on my brow !
I remember, I remember,

The fir trees dark and high ;
I used to think their slender spires

Were close against the sky !
It was a childish ignorance,

But now 'tis little joy
To know I'm further off from heaven,
Than when I was a boy!

T, HOOD.

THE WORKMAN'S SONG. THOUGH hard my daily labour,

Yet why should I repine ? I've many a worthy neighbour

Whose lot is worse than mine : I'd rather work, however hard,

Than steal, or beg, or borrow; And labour, too, hath its reward,

It keeps the heart from sorrow.

Though poor, I've many pleasures

Unknown to power and wealth ; I boast earth's truest treasures

Food, clothing, home, and health: None view my lot with longing eyes,

Nor envy my poor calling,
And if I have small hope to rise,

I have no fear of falling.
On Heaven's kind eye relying,

My work, then, I'll pursue ;
And leave all useless sighing

For those who've nought to do; In honest toil there's no disgrace,

Nor in the meanest station ! 'Tis vice alone and idleness,

That brand with degradation. With heart content and cheerful,

And arm inured to toil; Of labour never fearful,

On future want I smile.
From Heaven's past mercies, come wlat may,

An argument l'll borrow,
While thankful for God's gifts to-day,

To trust Him for to-morrow,

KINDNESS TO GOD'S CREATURES,
Turn, turn thy hasty foot aside,

Nor crush that helpless worm ;
The frame thy wayward looks deride,

None but our God could form.
The common Lord of all that move,

From whom thy being flowed,
A portion of His boundless love

On that poor worm bestow'd.
The light, the air, the dew, He made

To all His creatures free,
And spreads o'er earth the grassy blade

For them as well as thee.
Let them enjoy their little day,

Their lowly bliss receive ;
O do not lightly take away
The life thou can'st not give.

GISBORNE.

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PARAPHRASE ON PSALM XXIII.
The Lord my pasture shall prepare,
And feed me with a shepherd's care ;
His presence shall my wants supply,
And guard me with a watchful eye :
My noon-day walks He shall attend,
And all my midnight hours defend.
When in the sultry glebe I faint,
Or on the thirsty mountain pant,
To fertile vales and dewy meads,
My weary, wandering steps he leads
Where peaceful rivers, soft and slow,
Amid the verdant landscapes flow,
Though in the paths of death I tread,
With gloomy horrors overspread,
My steadfast heart shall fear no ill,
For thou, O God, art with me still ;
Thy friendly crook shall give me aid,
And guide me through the dreadful shade.
Though in a bare and rugged way,
Through devious, lonely wilds I stray,
Thy bounty shall my wants beguile ;
The barren wilderness shall smile,
With sudden greens and herbage crown'd,
And streams shall murmur all around.

ADDISON.

TIME.
Oh! never chide the wing of time,

Or say 'tis tardy in its fight!
You'll find the days speed quick enough,

If you but husband them aright.
The span of life is waning fast;

Beware, unthinking youth, beware! Thy soul's eternity depends

Upon the record moments bear, Time is indeed a precious boon,

But with the boon a task is given ; The heart must learn its duty well,

To man on earth, and God in heaven. Take heed, then, play not with thine hours,

Beware, unthinking youth, beware! The one who acts the part he ought, Will have but little time to spare !

ELIZA COOK

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