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THE HOUR OF PRAYER.[1]
Child! amidst the flowers at play,
While the red light fades away;
Mother! with thine earnest eye,
Ever watching silently;
Father! by the breeze of eve
Called, thy harvest-work to leave;
Pray! ere yet the dark hours be—
Lift the heart and bend the knee!
- ↑ This little piece, on account of its peculiar appropriateness here, is reprinted from a former publication.
