GOD'S CHOIRS.
THE glad days, the bright days,
The warm days, are here,
All touched with the tenderest
Sunshine and cheer.
The forest is full
Of the birds' pretty nests;
On the boughs of each tree
Some warbler's home rests.
While the sun in his march
O'er the wildwood, looks down
On as many fair homes
As he finds in the town.
And the ears of the angels
Catch music as sweet
In the aisles of the forest
As in minster or street.
One God made the singers,
One God guides the song,
And tempers the melody'
All the day long.
The Myrtle.