And may the eye that cannot sleep
Watch o'er our pillows here,

And guard us from all ill,
Through this long, silent night,
And bring us, by His holy will,
To see the morning light.






THE FIRST VIOLET.


[Illustration: Letter S.]

Spring has come, dear mother!
I've a violet found,
Growing in its beauty
From the cold, dark ground.

You are sad, dear mother,
Tears are in your eye;
You're not glad to see it;
Mother, tell me why?

I remember.--Last year,
Where our Willie lies,