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The meaning of this seems to be, that, as the angels and men are constituted in wonderful order, the first of those mighty circles whose joy and delight is in obeisance, are the Beings who cast their crowns before the Throne, and fall down in adoration; while our little ones' joyous greetings to their spiritual pastors and masters, may be their first training for their eternal ecstasy of worship.

(To be continued.)

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Almighty and immortal God,

The aid of all that mourn,
When Death's pale angel flies abroad,

To Thee for help we turn.
Thou art the life of them that live,

Also of them that die;
My little child to Thee I give,

No dearer gift have I.
I asked, O Lord, and had from Thee;

Thou askest now again; Forgive these tears of agony,

Forgive these sobs of pain.
I seek, and yet I cannot find

Her voice so glad and clear;
I do not think my love was blind,

And yet I did not fear.
She knocked with soft and tiny hand

Upon the heavenly gate;
We saw, but did not understand,

Thou didst not make her wait.

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We yield Thee hearty thanks, 0 Thou

Who art a Father too,
For these our Infants, gathered now

Within Thy temple new.

Thou hast received them for Thine own,

Within Thy Church on high ; They do not hear us sob and moan

Because they had to die.

They died with Christ, the holy Son,

At once to death and sin;
No battle was there to be done,

No victory to win.

They in the haven safely ride,

While we are out at sea;
Their little tears were quickly dried,

Lest they should weep as we.
We in the storm, with pallid lips,

Toil sorely, heart and limb; As for those other little ships,'

We know they are with Him.'


Dear mothers, by our little graves

Let us kneel down and pray;
For He who walked life's weary waves

Has borne our babes away.

All in the morning watch He came,

We saw Him drawing near ; His presence struck through soul and frame

A strange foreboding fear.

Yet even in that cold dark hour,

And through that nameless chill, He held us with His soothing power,

And whispered, Peace, be still.

Beside that glory of repose

We had no will to weep;
Not one of us, we know, God knows,

Would dare to break that sleep.

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