

16G WHAT THE LARK TEACHES. 



Higher, and higher than ever rose the tower of Belus, soars and 

 sings the Lark, the lyrical poet of the sky. Listen, listen ! and 

 the more remote the bird, the louder is his hymn in heaven. He 

 seems, in his loftiness, to have left the earth for ever, and to have 

 forgotten his lowly nest. The primroses and the daisies, and all 

 the sweet hill-flowers, must be remembered in the lofty region of 

 light. But just as the Lark is lost he and his song together 

 both are again seen and heard wavering down the sky, and in a 

 little while he is walking, contented, along the furrows of the 

 braided corn, or on the clover lea, that has not felt the plough- 

 share for half a century. 



Thou, simple bird ! 



Of all the vocal quire, dwell' st in a home 

 The humblest ; yet thy morning song ascends 

 Nearest to heaven. 



So should it be with us, borne up on the wings of faith 

 and love, with our hearts full of praise, to the footstool of 

 the Author of all good ; yet not forgetful that our present 

 home is on earth, and that however lofty may be our aspi- 

 rations, however earnest our desires and longings after the 

 glories and the blessings of a future state, yet our path of 

 duty lies here, and that we should be 



Content to fill a little space, 

 So God be glorified. 



Fain would we place before our readers some of the many 

 beautiful things that have been said of the Lark by English 

 poets especially, from Shakspeare downward, and by those 

 writers of divinity who have drawn most largely from 

 the objects and analogies of nature to illustrate spiritual 

 teachings, such as Jeremy Taylor and Bishop Hall. But 

 to occupy too much space with such matter would scarcely 

 accord with the aim and object of this book. The poetry 

 which we do use must be chiefly descriptive ; and of this 

 we shall find much more than enough for our purpose, in 

 reference to this favourite bird, whose song, so exultant 

 and inspiriting, has cheered many a grief- stricken and 

 sinking heart. What says Washington Irving about 

 this? 



Of all birds I should like to be a Lark. He revels in the brightest 

 time of the day, in the happiest season of the year, among fresh 



