VERY SMALL.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume IV, Issue 188, 3 November 1876, Page 6

VERY SMALL.

(Prom the 'Saturday Advertiser.' Sabbath bells are tolling, tolling, " Come and worship, come and pray," Ocean's mighty voice is rolling Solemn chants from far away. Kills and brooks and birds are singing Nature's psalms and hymns and glees, And the morning breeze is swinging Censers on the orchard trees. Little churches, little steeples, Little souls and little hearts, Little nations, little peoples, Actors playing little parts. After all we're very little, Very little after all, In the Temple of Creation, Brothers, we are very small. In the Temple of Creation, Soaring to the speckless dome, Seek our souls their destination, Dreaming of a future home. 'Mongst the bright, the pure, the stainless, In the realms of bliss and mirth, Ah ! our spirits are not chainless, They are fettered still to earth. Little tricks and little treasons, Little hates and little spites, Little months and little seasons, Little days and little nights. After all we're very little, Very little after all, In the Temple of Creation, Brothers, we are very small. Soul and mind, and sense and feeling, Watch upon the mountain's brow, Nature, in her prime, revealing All her vernal treasures now. From his throne, old Sol, the gilder, Greets us with a warm caress. Worshipping the Temple's Builder We can feel our nothingness. Little sorrows, little troubles, Little griefs and little joys, Little castles, little bubbles, Little towers and little toys. After all we're very little, Very little after all. In the Temple of Creation, Brothers, we arc very small.

Thomas Bbacken.