, little one, bestow
The minstrel's small request?
Wilt come when cares of earth below
Press on his aching breast?

'Tis the minstrel's own
To kneel at the throne
Of Him who reigns in the heavens alone;--
The grief of the soul
'Tis His to control,
Who bids in the azure the planets roll.

His couch when balmy slumber flies,
In watches of the night,
Wilt, soother, come, and close his eyes,
And make his sorrows light?

I cannot come
From my sea-deep home,
Whene'er I list on the earth to roam:
Who rules in the form
Of the ocean-storm
His will must the rain-drop, too, perform.

Thy gentle prattle at the pane
Makes timorous Fancy smile:
Then let me hear that tender strain;
Blithe charmer, stay a while.

No: I cannot delay,
But must quickly away
Where the rills in the valley my coming stay;
I haste to the dell
Where the wild-flowers dwell,
Then "Peace to thee, minstrel," is the rain-drop's farewell.

* * * * *

The poetry and prose you have been reading, children, thus far was
most of it selected, when I was invited to a beautiful celebration,
with some account of which you will be glad, I am sure, to have me
close my collection. It was on

CHRISTMAS EVENING AT THE PITTS-STREET CHAPEL,

A very neat chapel, where Rev. Mr. Winkley, one of the Ministers at
Large, preaches. On this occasion a platform was built up in front of
the pulpit: most of the centre pews were filled with happy-looking
boys and girls, and the rest of the room, even to the aisles, quite
crowded with grown-up men and women. After the singing of two hymns by
the children, and a prayer, a gentleman made a short address, telling
how much better was the religion of the Jews than the religion of the
Heathen. Then was spoken in a very pleasant way the following

DIALOGUE--PART I.

RACHEL, _a Jewess._--REBECCA, _Sister of Rachel._--EUDORA, _a
Heathen._--JEZEBEL, _a Messenger._--RUTH, _friend of Rachel and
Rebecca._

_Eudora._ Rachel!

_Rachel._ Eudora! welcome, thrice welcome, to Jerusalem.

_Eudora._ Right glad am I, Rachel, to be once more by your side. The
sun has not shone so brightly, nor the birds sung so sweetly, since
you bade me farewell at my father's; and every moment has increased my
desire to be with you again.

_Rachel._ You have well done that you have come to me. And though I
was not conscious of robbing your lovely home of its brightness, yet