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If thou hast forgiven a brother's offense,
And grieved for thine own with penitence;
If every creature has won thy love,
From the creeping worm to the brooding dove,
Then with joy and peace on the bed of rest
Thou wilt sleep as on thy mother's breast.

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Words and Phrases for Study PRONUNCIATION: live'-long (liv-lõng) wretch'-ěd-něss



öf-fēnse'-sin; injury; wrong doing.
pēn'-i-tence—sorrow for sins or faults.
äid—to help; to assist.
strīve-to make effort; to labor hard.
dis-tress'-pain or suffering of mind or body.

WORDS AND PHRASES: "sheltering eaves

A tale like this'' sósun is creeping up”

"singing rill's
"a brother's offense"



Adelaide Procter (1825-1864) was an English poet. She lived in London all her life. Her father, Bryan Waller Procter, wrote under the name of Barry Cornwall. Her poems are full of sweetness and beauty.

SEE the rivers flowing

Downwards to the sea,
Pouring all their treasures

Bountiful and free:
Yet to help their giving

Hidden springs arise;
Or, if need be, showers

Feed them from the skies !

Watch the princely flowers

Their rich fragrance spread,
Load the air with perfumes,

From their beauty shed:
Yet their lavish spending

Leaves them not in dearth,
With fresh life replenished

By their mother earth!

Give thy heart's best treasures

From fair Nature learn;
Give thy love and ask not,

Wait not a return !
And the more thou spendest

From thy little store,
With a double bounty

God will give thee more.


Notes and Questions

Into what do the rivers pour their : Read words from the third stanza water

which tell what the heart's Why do not the rivers run dry in best treasure is. doing this

What lines tell us that we must What do the flowers do with their not think about what we shall perfume

get back? Why is their fragrance not ex Why should we not be afraid to hausted because of this?

give freely

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"What is the use," said a fleecy cloud,

“Of these few drops that I hold ? They will hardly bend the lily proud,

Though caught in her cup of gold; Yet I am a part of God's great plan,

So my treasure I'll give as well as I can."


A child went merrily forth to play,

But a thought, like a silver thread, Kept winding in and out all day

Through the happy golden head; And it seemed to say, “Do all you can,

For you are a part of God's great plan.”


She knew no more than the glancing star,

Nor the cloud with its chalice full,
How, why, and for what all strange things are

She was only a child at school;
But she thought, "It is a part of God's great plan

That even I should do all that I can.”


So she helped a younger child along,

When the road was rough to the feet; And she sang from her heart a little song

That we all thought was passing sweet; And her father, a weary, toil-worn man,

Said, “I, too, will do the best that I can.”

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Robert Browning (1812-1889) was one of the great English poets. He was born in a suburb of London. He was buried in the Poets Corner of Westminster Abbey.

THE year's at the spring
And day's at the morn;
Morning's at seven;
The hillside's dew-pearled;

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