THE HOUR OF PRAYER.


Bu Mrs. Hemans.
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Child, amidst the flowers at play,
While the red light fades away;
Mother, with thine earnest eye,
Ever following silently;


Father. by the breeze ofeve
'Call'd thy harvest-work to leaye;-
Prsy!-Ere yet the dark hours be,
Lift the heart and bend the knee.
Traveller, in the strangers land,
Far from thine own household band:
Mourner, haunted by the tone
Of a vsice from this world gone;
Captive, in whose narrow cell
Sunshine hath not leave to dwell,
Sailor, on the darkening sea,


L # the heart and bend the knee.
Warrior, that from battle won,
Breathest now at set ofsun;


Woman, DER the lowly slain,


Weeping on his burial plain;


Ye that triumph, yc that sigh!


Kindred by one holy tie!


Heavens first star alike ye see
Lift the heart and bend the knee!