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JENNY.—HOMEWARD

BOUND.

threads and make sweet harmonies out of her; present life.

And so she had found her early love, only to prove it a disappointment.

And, reader, is it not often so with the dreams of time? If the cups we thirst for were lifted to  our lips, might we not find them bitterness and sorrow? And the green fields to which we look off with such longing eyes, full of thorns did we but tread them?

“Not satisfied, not satisfied!” is it not the cry of every human soul who expects from the world happiness, that “something it cannot give us?”

Oh! the paradises of enjoyment and rest which our fancies build for us in this world are never realized, and if the good gifts we crave of the treasury of time—love, fame, wealth—were showered upon us, we should still find the disquiet and the weariness.

Not out of, but in ourselves, muBt be our rest; and the living for others, the doing good as our hands and hearts find it to do, will alone give us contentment. “Open Thou our eyes that we may see, and our hearts that we may understand.”

JENNY. BY

FRANCES HENRIETTA

SHEFFIELD. WHEN Jenny was a wee thing, And tottled o'er the ﬂoor, And used to hide my lavish gifts In doll sized pinafore.

Miss Jenny wasn’t prudish, Would kiss the grizzly phiz, That thro’ her dainty eyeglass now She only sees to quiz.

When Jenny was a wee thing, And stood beside my knee, I taught her many a lesson Of that Friend we cannot see.

And taught her, lowly kneeling, To lift her heart in prayer To Him who hath the humblest Forever in His care.

Then Jenny was a wee thing, She’s tall and stylish now, And only deigns in Grace Church Her contrite knee to bow.

And ’tis no vulgar leather Must bind Miss Jenny‘s prayers, She likes religion handsome To match the dress she wears.

When Jenny was a wee thing, Her heart was warm and true; But now she mocks at feeling, And truth is passe too.

Ah! Jenny is quite different From the Jean beloved of yore, The little curly, laughing thing I dandled is no more.

But there's a haughty lady That rules the world of pride, And thinks to walk the golden streets On the patrician side.

HOMEWARD BY

BOUND.

MISS ELIZABETH MILLER. HOMEWARD bound! across the ocean, O'er the billows bright and blue! Heaves each heart with warm emotion, As the distant shore we view. Home, sweet home, then land enchanted! Fairer far than all beside; By a thousand sweet thoughts haunted, Memories of love and pride. Favor, oh, ye winds. our vessel! For her crew are homeward bound! Yet, if need be, we can wrestle With the storms that gather round. For the hands work bravely over, When the heart is busy too; Love gives strength for all endeavor, Love is strong to dare and do.

Homeward bound! “'0 have been roving O'er the World; and long away; There were those whose tender loving Would have lured our longer stay. In our hearts au'oke the yearning For the old home loved so well; And with joy we are returning, High with hope our bosoms swell

If this be. oh. friends. so cheering. Think, shall not our joy be more. When our barks of life are nearing Canaan‘s fair and lovely shore? For the loved await us. yonder, Warm embraces wait as there! Homes from whence we need not wander, Joys unchecked by pain or care!