« He hath' given His Angels charge over thee to keep in all thy ways.-Ps. xc.

To my Guardian Angel.

MORNING.

GUARDIAN Angel, thou hast kept
Watch around me while I slept :
Free from harm and peril now
With the Cross I sign my brow;
Risen with the rising sun,
Forth I go, but not alone:
For, my keeper and my guide,
Thou art ever by my side,
Pour them ever in mine ear
Words which angels joy to hear;

Curb thou my tongue and thoughts within
And keep my wandering eye from sin :
And rule my steps along the road
Which brings me nearer to my God.
Glory to the Father be,

Glory, Jesu Christ, to Thee,

And Holy Ghost, eternal Three.

Amen.

EVENING.

HOLY guardin Angel keep

Watch around me while I sleep;
'Neath the shelter of thy wings
Save me from all hurtful things:

Pour the light, of love divine
In this cold dull heart of mine;
Evil spirits drive away,

That I may rise at break of day
Again to praise my God and pray.

Glory to the Father be,

Glory Jesu Christ, to Thee.

And Holy Ghost, eternal Three.

Amen.

How much reverence ought this word to induce in thee; how much devotion bring along with it: how much confidence bestow! Reverence for the presence; devotion for the benevolence; confidence for the guardianship. In every inn, in every corner, reverence thine Angel. »-- ST. BERNARD.

A Hymn for Little Children.

ON THE INFANCY OF JESUS.

JESUS, Thou wert meek and mild,
Thou wert once a little child ;-
Lo! a little child to Thee
Saviour dear, I bend my knee;
Make me gentle, mild, and meek,
Make me, Lord, Thy face to seek.

In a manger Thou wert born;
Jesu, teach Thy child to scorn
This world's riches, and with Thee
Live content in poverty.

Once in Nazareth's humble cot
Thou didst taste of childhood's lot;

And while summers rolled on
Thou wert rear'd as Joseph's son-
Son of the humble carpenter,

Torough of high heaven and earth the heir.
Pure Thou wert from taint of sin,
For the Godhead dwelt within.
Him thou didst obey, and Her,
Mary, Thiue own Mother dear;
Blessed above women She!
Blessed above all in thee !
On thine infant face meanwhile,
Oft she shed a mothe'rs smile,
As she joyed to look upon
Thee her first and only Son.
Virgin Mother! ever blest,
Mary, teach me on thy breast
With thy Jesus there to rest.
Mother, keep me meek and mild,
Keep me with Him for thy child,
That, Jesus, I may live to Thee
In holy Christian infancy.

And as on each year doth flow,
Teach me still in grace to grow;
Teach me ever to obey,

Never from Thy steps to stray;
By They Cross and precious Blood,
Make me holy, chaste, and good
Bow my will, that when at last
Christian childhood shall be past,

I may love and serve Thee too,
And in heaven Thy sweetness know.

Glory to the Father be,

Glory Jesu Christ to Thee,

And Holy Ghost, Eternal Three !

Amen!

<< From His earliest infancy, the blessed Jesus began to carry His cross, in order to teach us that no period of live is without its crosses. 'Follow Me, sait He; ' carry your cross after Me. 'Keep your eyes fixed on your divine pattern, and you will soon attain to the height of perfection, and, in the end, to everlasting felicity.» - NOUET.

« Suffer the Little Children to come unto Me »

I think when I read that sweet story of old,
When Jesus was here among men,

How he called little children, like lambs to his fold.

1 should like to have been with Him then. How I wish that His hands had been laid on my head,

And my arms had been thrown round His knee,

And that I might have seen His kind looks when He said.

Let the little ones come unto Me. » Yet still to His foot stool in prayer I may go, And ask for a share of His love;

And if I thus earnestly seek Him below,
I shall see Him and hear Him above

In that beautiful place He has gone to prepare
For all who are washed and forgiven,
For many dear children are gathering there,
And of such is the Kingdom of Heaven. »
Yet why should I think He's no longer on earth.
When He says, « 1 am all days with you? »
For sure, if He loves little children, like me,
Then His words must be simple and true
No: He cannot deceive-His dear Mother I'll call,
And straight to his altar repair;

For they say he still dwells in that sweet holy place,

And an infant may worship him there.

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Home.

Oh how I love you, father dear!

I love my mother too :
I've none in all this happy world
One half so dear as you.

Sisters and brothers, each in turn,
Share all my joys and fears;
O! what a bright glad home is mine!
This home of smiles and tears.
But then, you tell me, I have got
A dearer home above;

A scene where sorrow enters not,
A home of peace and love.