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father, say?" "No! they will never come; We go to them, my boy, There, in our heavenly home, To meet in endless joy." Upon his father's knee Still Charley kept his place, And very thoughtfully He looked up in his face. REMEMBER THE SLAVE. Mother! whene'er around your child You clasp your arms in love, And when, with grateful joy, you raise Your eyes to God above, Think of the negro mother, when Her child is torn away, Sold for a little slave,--O, then For that poor mother pray! Father! whene'er your happy boys You look upon with pride, And pray to see them when you're old, All blooming by your side, Think of that father's withered heart, The father of a slave, Who asks a pitying God to give His little son a grave. Brothers and sisters! who with joy Meet round the social hearth, And talk of home and happy days, And laugh in careless mirth, Remember, too, the poor young slave, Who never felt your joy, Who, early old, has never known The bliss to be a boy. Ye Christians! ministers of Him Who came to make men free, When, at the Almighty Maker's throne, You bend the suppliant knee, From the deep fountains of your soul Then let your prayers ascend For the poor slave, who hardly knows That God is still his friend. Let all who know that God is just, That Jesus came to save, Unite in the most holy cause Of the forsaken slave. HOME-SICKNESS. TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN. Were I a wild, wild falcon, I'd soar away on high, And seek my father's dwelling, Beyond the far blue sky. Against that well-known door then I'd flap my wings with joy; My mother from the window Sees and admits her boy. "Dear son!" she'd say; "O, welcome! How often has my heart Longed sadly to embrace thee; Now here behold thou art!" Thus memory still is dreaming Of what can never be. My long-lost home,--the loved ones,-- These eyes may never see. HAPPINESS. What is it makes the morning bright? What gilds the evening hours? What makes our hearts seem gay and light, As if we trod on flowers? 'Tis innocence that makes us gay, Bids flowers grow everywhere; Ma
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