Each blade of grass, each opening flower,
All seem to speak, great God, of thee.
Dear Father, thou hast kindly kept
Thy child from danger all the night,
And now, my heart is filled with joy,
As I behold the morning light.
And I would speak of all thy love;
Oh, fill my heart with grateful praise,
And may I for these bounteous gifts,
Both love and serve thee all my days.
STRAWBERRY GIRL.
EMILY.
Mamma, do hear Eliza cry!
She wants a piece of cake, I know,
She will not stir to school without;
Do give her some, and let her go.
MOTHER.
Oh no, my dear, that will not do,
She has behaved extremely ill;
She does not think of minding me,
And tries to gain her stubborn will.
This morning, when she had her milk,
She gave her spoon a sudden twirl
