Illustration.Now, Ellen, stop screaming and running away,And come here and listen to me;Is it true, my dear daughter, I want you to say,That you're foolishly scared by a bee?The bee is as frightened as you are, my dear,For he can't tell the way to get out;And as for his sting, that you never need fear,If you do not run crying about.If you were to catch him, why, then, I dare sayYou'd soon feel his sharp little sting;But if you sit still at your work or your play,Be sure that no harm he will bring.So wipe off these tears and never againGive way to so foolish a fright;For if you indulge it 't will cost you much painAnd no one will want you in sight.Illustration.
Illustration.Now, Ellen, stop screaming and running away,And come here and listen to me;Is it true, my dear daughter, I want you to say,That you're foolishly scared by a bee?The bee is as frightened as you are, my dear,For he can't tell the way to get out;And as for his sting, that you never need fear,If you do not run crying about.If you were to catch him, why, then, I dare sayYou'd soon feel his sharp little sting;But if you sit still at your work or your play,Be sure that no harm he will bring.So wipe off these tears and never againGive way to so foolish a fright;For if you indulge it 't will cost you much painAnd no one will want you in sight.Illustration.
Illustration.
Now, Ellen, stop screaming and running away,And come here and listen to me;Is it true, my dear daughter, I want you to say,That you're foolishly scared by a bee?The bee is as frightened as you are, my dear,For he can't tell the way to get out;And as for his sting, that you never need fear,If you do not run crying about.If you were to catch him, why, then, I dare sayYou'd soon feel his sharp little sting;But if you sit still at your work or your play,Be sure that no harm he will bring.So wipe off these tears and never againGive way to so foolish a fright;For if you indulge it 't will cost you much painAnd no one will want you in sight.
Now, Ellen, stop screaming and running away,And come here and listen to me;Is it true, my dear daughter, I want you to say,That you're foolishly scared by a bee?
Now, Ellen, stop screaming and running away,
And come here and listen to me;
Is it true, my dear daughter, I want you to say,
That you're foolishly scared by a bee?
The bee is as frightened as you are, my dear,For he can't tell the way to get out;And as for his sting, that you never need fear,If you do not run crying about.
The bee is as frightened as you are, my dear,
For he can't tell the way to get out;
And as for his sting, that you never need fear,
If you do not run crying about.
If you were to catch him, why, then, I dare sayYou'd soon feel his sharp little sting;But if you sit still at your work or your play,Be sure that no harm he will bring.
If you were to catch him, why, then, I dare say
You'd soon feel his sharp little sting;
But if you sit still at your work or your play,
Be sure that no harm he will bring.
So wipe off these tears and never againGive way to so foolish a fright;For if you indulge it 't will cost you much painAnd no one will want you in sight.
So wipe off these tears and never again
Give way to so foolish a fright;
For if you indulge it 't will cost you much pain
And no one will want you in sight.
Illustration.
Illustration: Letter T.'T is Sunday morning, dear mamma!I do not wish to play;Last night I put my dolls and toysSafe in my box away.I'll come and sit down by your side,While you the story tellOf the good little Joseph, whomHis father loved so well.And of the time when waters darkCovered the world around;And all but Noah in his ark,Beneath the waves were drowned.And of the gentle dove, that forthO'er those wide waters flew,And twice, with weary wing, returned,No resting-place in view.And how the infant Moses, too,Floated the Nile along;And how his mother made for himThe basket cradle strong.Please tell these Bible-stories then,And take me on your knee,And I'll sit still, my dear mamma,And listen quietly.Illustration.
Illustration: Letter T.'T is Sunday morning, dear mamma!I do not wish to play;Last night I put my dolls and toysSafe in my box away.I'll come and sit down by your side,While you the story tellOf the good little Joseph, whomHis father loved so well.And of the time when waters darkCovered the world around;And all but Noah in his ark,Beneath the waves were drowned.And of the gentle dove, that forthO'er those wide waters flew,And twice, with weary wing, returned,No resting-place in view.And how the infant Moses, too,Floated the Nile along;And how his mother made for himThe basket cradle strong.Please tell these Bible-stories then,And take me on your knee,And I'll sit still, my dear mamma,And listen quietly.Illustration.
Illustration: Letter T.
'T is Sunday morning, dear mamma!I do not wish to play;Last night I put my dolls and toysSafe in my box away.I'll come and sit down by your side,While you the story tellOf the good little Joseph, whomHis father loved so well.And of the time when waters darkCovered the world around;And all but Noah in his ark,Beneath the waves were drowned.And of the gentle dove, that forthO'er those wide waters flew,And twice, with weary wing, returned,No resting-place in view.And how the infant Moses, too,Floated the Nile along;And how his mother made for himThe basket cradle strong.Please tell these Bible-stories then,And take me on your knee,And I'll sit still, my dear mamma,And listen quietly.
'T is Sunday morning, dear mamma!I do not wish to play;Last night I put my dolls and toysSafe in my box away.
'T is Sunday morning, dear mamma!
I do not wish to play;
Last night I put my dolls and toys
Safe in my box away.
I'll come and sit down by your side,While you the story tellOf the good little Joseph, whomHis father loved so well.
I'll come and sit down by your side,
While you the story tell
Of the good little Joseph, whom
His father loved so well.
And of the time when waters darkCovered the world around;And all but Noah in his ark,Beneath the waves were drowned.
And of the time when waters dark
Covered the world around;
And all but Noah in his ark,
Beneath the waves were drowned.
And of the gentle dove, that forthO'er those wide waters flew,And twice, with weary wing, returned,No resting-place in view.
And of the gentle dove, that forth
O'er those wide waters flew,
And twice, with weary wing, returned,
No resting-place in view.
And how the infant Moses, too,Floated the Nile along;And how his mother made for himThe basket cradle strong.
And how the infant Moses, too,
Floated the Nile along;
And how his mother made for him
The basket cradle strong.
Please tell these Bible-stories then,And take me on your knee,And I'll sit still, my dear mamma,And listen quietly.
Please tell these Bible-stories then,
And take me on your knee,
And I'll sit still, my dear mamma,
And listen quietly.
Illustration.
Illustration: Letter I.I love to see the sun go downBehind the western hill;I love to see the night come on,When everything is still.I love to see the moon and starsShine brightly in the sky;I love to see the rolling cloudsAbove my head so high.I love to see the little flowersThat grow up from the ground;To hear the wind blow through the trees,And make a rustling sound.I love to see the sheep and lambsSo happy in their play;I love to hear the small birds singSweetly, at close of day.I love to see themall, becauseThey are so bright and fair;And He who made this pleasant worldWill listen to my prayer.Illustration.
Illustration: Letter I.I love to see the sun go downBehind the western hill;I love to see the night come on,When everything is still.I love to see the moon and starsShine brightly in the sky;I love to see the rolling cloudsAbove my head so high.I love to see the little flowersThat grow up from the ground;To hear the wind blow through the trees,And make a rustling sound.I love to see the sheep and lambsSo happy in their play;I love to hear the small birds singSweetly, at close of day.I love to see themall, becauseThey are so bright and fair;And He who made this pleasant worldWill listen to my prayer.Illustration.
Illustration: Letter I.
I love to see the sun go downBehind the western hill;I love to see the night come on,When everything is still.I love to see the moon and starsShine brightly in the sky;I love to see the rolling cloudsAbove my head so high.I love to see the little flowersThat grow up from the ground;To hear the wind blow through the trees,And make a rustling sound.I love to see the sheep and lambsSo happy in their play;I love to hear the small birds singSweetly, at close of day.I love to see themall, becauseThey are so bright and fair;And He who made this pleasant worldWill listen to my prayer.
I love to see the sun go downBehind the western hill;I love to see the night come on,When everything is still.
I love to see the sun go down
Behind the western hill;
I love to see the night come on,
When everything is still.
I love to see the moon and starsShine brightly in the sky;I love to see the rolling cloudsAbove my head so high.
I love to see the moon and stars
Shine brightly in the sky;
I love to see the rolling clouds
Above my head so high.
I love to see the little flowersThat grow up from the ground;To hear the wind blow through the trees,And make a rustling sound.
I love to see the little flowers
That grow up from the ground;
To hear the wind blow through the trees,
And make a rustling sound.
I love to see the sheep and lambsSo happy in their play;I love to hear the small birds singSweetly, at close of day.
I love to see the sheep and lambs
So happy in their play;
I love to hear the small birds sing
Sweetly, at close of day.
I love to see themall, becauseThey are so bright and fair;And He who made this pleasant worldWill listen to my prayer.
I love to see themall, because
They are so bright and fair;
And He who made this pleasant world
Will listen to my prayer.
Illustration.
Illustration: Letter I.In Bible times so long ago,And in a far-off city, too,A mother watched her only childAs he in strength and beauty grew.And when his little tottering feetHad scarcely learned to go alone,—Before his baby voice could speakHer name, with a sweet, joyous tone,—She took her boy and travelled on,Away from home, for many a mile,That with a good and holy manHer darling son might live a while;That he might learn about the GodWho made the earth and sea and sky;And then she left him there and turnedBack to her home, with many a sigh.She could not place him on her kneeAnd tell him he was very dear;And so she made a little coatAnd brought it to him every year.But you, my little girl, can learn,While you are sitting close by me,Of heaven, and that kind God above,Who made in love each thing we see.And you should thank Him every day,That you can here His goodness know;And from your pleasant, happy home,And your dear parents, need not go.
Illustration: Letter I.In Bible times so long ago,And in a far-off city, too,A mother watched her only childAs he in strength and beauty grew.And when his little tottering feetHad scarcely learned to go alone,—Before his baby voice could speakHer name, with a sweet, joyous tone,—She took her boy and travelled on,Away from home, for many a mile,That with a good and holy manHer darling son might live a while;That he might learn about the GodWho made the earth and sea and sky;And then she left him there and turnedBack to her home, with many a sigh.She could not place him on her kneeAnd tell him he was very dear;And so she made a little coatAnd brought it to him every year.But you, my little girl, can learn,While you are sitting close by me,Of heaven, and that kind God above,Who made in love each thing we see.And you should thank Him every day,That you can here His goodness know;And from your pleasant, happy home,And your dear parents, need not go.
Illustration: Letter I.
In Bible times so long ago,And in a far-off city, too,A mother watched her only childAs he in strength and beauty grew.And when his little tottering feetHad scarcely learned to go alone,—Before his baby voice could speakHer name, with a sweet, joyous tone,—She took her boy and travelled on,Away from home, for many a mile,That with a good and holy manHer darling son might live a while;That he might learn about the GodWho made the earth and sea and sky;And then she left him there and turnedBack to her home, with many a sigh.She could not place him on her kneeAnd tell him he was very dear;And so she made a little coatAnd brought it to him every year.But you, my little girl, can learn,While you are sitting close by me,Of heaven, and that kind God above,Who made in love each thing we see.And you should thank Him every day,That you can here His goodness know;And from your pleasant, happy home,And your dear parents, need not go.
In Bible times so long ago,And in a far-off city, too,A mother watched her only childAs he in strength and beauty grew.
In Bible times so long ago,
And in a far-off city, too,
A mother watched her only child
As he in strength and beauty grew.
And when his little tottering feetHad scarcely learned to go alone,—Before his baby voice could speakHer name, with a sweet, joyous tone,—
And when his little tottering feet
Had scarcely learned to go alone,—
Before his baby voice could speak
Her name, with a sweet, joyous tone,—
She took her boy and travelled on,Away from home, for many a mile,That with a good and holy manHer darling son might live a while;
She took her boy and travelled on,
Away from home, for many a mile,
That with a good and holy man
Her darling son might live a while;
That he might learn about the GodWho made the earth and sea and sky;And then she left him there and turnedBack to her home, with many a sigh.
That he might learn about the God
Who made the earth and sea and sky;
And then she left him there and turned
Back to her home, with many a sigh.
She could not place him on her kneeAnd tell him he was very dear;And so she made a little coatAnd brought it to him every year.
She could not place him on her knee
And tell him he was very dear;
And so she made a little coat
And brought it to him every year.
But you, my little girl, can learn,While you are sitting close by me,Of heaven, and that kind God above,Who made in love each thing we see.
But you, my little girl, can learn,
While you are sitting close by me,
Of heaven, and that kind God above,
Who made in love each thing we see.
And you should thank Him every day,That you can here His goodness know;And from your pleasant, happy home,And your dear parents, need not go.
And you should thank Him every day,
That you can here His goodness know;
And from your pleasant, happy home,
And your dear parents, need not go.
Illustration.What is Harry thinking of,Sitting on that mossy stone?All his brothers are at play;Why is he so still and lone?He is musing earnestly;And the flutterings of the birdAnd its pleading, feeble chirpFall upon his ear unheard.Well may little Harry think!From the pear-tree's withered boughHe has brought the pretty nest,Placed within his hat-crown now.That is why he sits alone;And he hears a voice within,Louder than the Robin's note,Crying, "Harry, this is sin!"Then put back the nest, my boy,So you will be glad and free,Nor will hasten by in shame,When you pass that withered tree.
Illustration.What is Harry thinking of,Sitting on that mossy stone?All his brothers are at play;Why is he so still and lone?He is musing earnestly;And the flutterings of the birdAnd its pleading, feeble chirpFall upon his ear unheard.Well may little Harry think!From the pear-tree's withered boughHe has brought the pretty nest,Placed within his hat-crown now.That is why he sits alone;And he hears a voice within,Louder than the Robin's note,Crying, "Harry, this is sin!"Then put back the nest, my boy,So you will be glad and free,Nor will hasten by in shame,When you pass that withered tree.
Illustration.
What is Harry thinking of,Sitting on that mossy stone?All his brothers are at play;Why is he so still and lone?He is musing earnestly;And the flutterings of the birdAnd its pleading, feeble chirpFall upon his ear unheard.Well may little Harry think!From the pear-tree's withered boughHe has brought the pretty nest,Placed within his hat-crown now.That is why he sits alone;And he hears a voice within,Louder than the Robin's note,Crying, "Harry, this is sin!"Then put back the nest, my boy,So you will be glad and free,Nor will hasten by in shame,When you pass that withered tree.
What is Harry thinking of,Sitting on that mossy stone?All his brothers are at play;Why is he so still and lone?
What is Harry thinking of,
Sitting on that mossy stone?
All his brothers are at play;
Why is he so still and lone?
He is musing earnestly;And the flutterings of the birdAnd its pleading, feeble chirpFall upon his ear unheard.
He is musing earnestly;
And the flutterings of the bird
And its pleading, feeble chirp
Fall upon his ear unheard.
Well may little Harry think!From the pear-tree's withered boughHe has brought the pretty nest,Placed within his hat-crown now.
Well may little Harry think!
From the pear-tree's withered bough
He has brought the pretty nest,
Placed within his hat-crown now.
That is why he sits alone;And he hears a voice within,Louder than the Robin's note,Crying, "Harry, this is sin!"
That is why he sits alone;
And he hears a voice within,
Louder than the Robin's note,
Crying, "Harry, this is sin!"
Then put back the nest, my boy,So you will be glad and free,Nor will hasten by in shame,When you pass that withered tree.
Then put back the nest, my boy,
So you will be glad and free,
Nor will hasten by in shame,
When you pass that withered tree.
Illustration: Letter H."How beautiful it is, mamma,That God should love us all;That He should listen to their prayer,When little children call!"What shall I do for him, mamma?For He's so kind to me,—How shall I show my love to HimWho made bird, flower and tree?""The only thing which you can doIs this, my darling child,Be always gentle, full of love,In words and actions mild."Thus you will show your love to GodWho is so kind to you;And you will live with Him at lastIn His bright heaven, too."Illustration.
Illustration: Letter H."How beautiful it is, mamma,That God should love us all;That He should listen to their prayer,When little children call!"What shall I do for him, mamma?For He's so kind to me,—How shall I show my love to HimWho made bird, flower and tree?""The only thing which you can doIs this, my darling child,Be always gentle, full of love,In words and actions mild."Thus you will show your love to GodWho is so kind to you;And you will live with Him at lastIn His bright heaven, too."Illustration.
Illustration: Letter H.
"How beautiful it is, mamma,That God should love us all;That He should listen to their prayer,When little children call!"What shall I do for him, mamma?For He's so kind to me,—How shall I show my love to HimWho made bird, flower and tree?""The only thing which you can doIs this, my darling child,Be always gentle, full of love,In words and actions mild."Thus you will show your love to GodWho is so kind to you;And you will live with Him at lastIn His bright heaven, too."
"How beautiful it is, mamma,That God should love us all;That He should listen to their prayer,When little children call!
"How beautiful it is, mamma,
That God should love us all;
That He should listen to their prayer,
When little children call!
"What shall I do for him, mamma?For He's so kind to me,—How shall I show my love to HimWho made bird, flower and tree?"
"What shall I do for him, mamma?
For He's so kind to me,—
How shall I show my love to Him
Who made bird, flower and tree?"
"The only thing which you can doIs this, my darling child,Be always gentle, full of love,In words and actions mild.
"The only thing which you can do
Is this, my darling child,
Be always gentle, full of love,
In words and actions mild.
"Thus you will show your love to GodWho is so kind to you;And you will live with Him at lastIn His bright heaven, too."
"Thus you will show your love to God
Who is so kind to you;
And you will live with Him at last
In His bright heaven, too."
Illustration.
Illustration: Letter T."Tell me a Sunday story,"A dear child said to me;And I bent down and kissed herAnd placed her on my knee."Once, long ago, in countriesFar, very far away,Where the cold snow-storm never comes,And all is bright and gay,"There lived a king, so cruel,He gave this stern command,That all the little childrenMust die, throughout the land."But still there was one motherWho kept her baby dear,And quickly hushed its crying,In silence and in fear;"But when she could no longerHer precious baby hide,She did not like to throw himUpon the rushing tide;"And so a little basketShe made, of rushes stout,And plastered it with clay and pitchTo keep the water out."Then in this basket-cradleShe put the little child;And quietly he floated downAmong the rushes wild."Just then the king's own daughterCame to the water's edge,And saw the basket floatingAmong the grass and sedge."She drew it from the water,And called the babe her own,And kept him till to be a manThat little boy had grown."And when you read the Bible,—Which you will learn to do,—You'll see how great and good he was,And how God loved him, too."Illustration.
Illustration: Letter T."Tell me a Sunday story,"A dear child said to me;And I bent down and kissed herAnd placed her on my knee."Once, long ago, in countriesFar, very far away,Where the cold snow-storm never comes,And all is bright and gay,"There lived a king, so cruel,He gave this stern command,That all the little childrenMust die, throughout the land."But still there was one motherWho kept her baby dear,And quickly hushed its crying,In silence and in fear;"But when she could no longerHer precious baby hide,She did not like to throw himUpon the rushing tide;"And so a little basketShe made, of rushes stout,And plastered it with clay and pitchTo keep the water out."Then in this basket-cradleShe put the little child;And quietly he floated downAmong the rushes wild."Just then the king's own daughterCame to the water's edge,And saw the basket floatingAmong the grass and sedge."She drew it from the water,And called the babe her own,And kept him till to be a manThat little boy had grown."And when you read the Bible,—Which you will learn to do,—You'll see how great and good he was,And how God loved him, too."Illustration.
Illustration: Letter T.
"Tell me a Sunday story,"A dear child said to me;And I bent down and kissed herAnd placed her on my knee."Once, long ago, in countriesFar, very far away,Where the cold snow-storm never comes,And all is bright and gay,"There lived a king, so cruel,He gave this stern command,That all the little childrenMust die, throughout the land."But still there was one motherWho kept her baby dear,And quickly hushed its crying,In silence and in fear;"But when she could no longerHer precious baby hide,She did not like to throw himUpon the rushing tide;"And so a little basketShe made, of rushes stout,And plastered it with clay and pitchTo keep the water out."Then in this basket-cradleShe put the little child;And quietly he floated downAmong the rushes wild."Just then the king's own daughterCame to the water's edge,And saw the basket floatingAmong the grass and sedge."She drew it from the water,And called the babe her own,And kept him till to be a manThat little boy had grown."And when you read the Bible,—Which you will learn to do,—You'll see how great and good he was,And how God loved him, too."
"Tell me a Sunday story,"A dear child said to me;And I bent down and kissed herAnd placed her on my knee.
"Tell me a Sunday story,"
A dear child said to me;
And I bent down and kissed her
And placed her on my knee.
"Once, long ago, in countriesFar, very far away,Where the cold snow-storm never comes,And all is bright and gay,
"Once, long ago, in countries
Far, very far away,
Where the cold snow-storm never comes,
And all is bright and gay,
"There lived a king, so cruel,He gave this stern command,That all the little childrenMust die, throughout the land.
"There lived a king, so cruel,
He gave this stern command,
That all the little children
Must die, throughout the land.
"But still there was one motherWho kept her baby dear,And quickly hushed its crying,In silence and in fear;
"But still there was one mother
Who kept her baby dear,
And quickly hushed its crying,
In silence and in fear;
"But when she could no longerHer precious baby hide,She did not like to throw himUpon the rushing tide;
"But when she could no longer
Her precious baby hide,
She did not like to throw him
Upon the rushing tide;
"And so a little basketShe made, of rushes stout,And plastered it with clay and pitchTo keep the water out.
"And so a little basket
She made, of rushes stout,
And plastered it with clay and pitch
To keep the water out.
"Then in this basket-cradleShe put the little child;And quietly he floated downAmong the rushes wild.
"Then in this basket-cradle
She put the little child;
And quietly he floated down
Among the rushes wild.
"Just then the king's own daughterCame to the water's edge,And saw the basket floatingAmong the grass and sedge.
"Just then the king's own daughter
Came to the water's edge,
And saw the basket floating
Among the grass and sedge.
"She drew it from the water,And called the babe her own,And kept him till to be a manThat little boy had grown.
"She drew it from the water,
And called the babe her own,
And kept him till to be a man
That little boy had grown.
"And when you read the Bible,—Which you will learn to do,—You'll see how great and good he was,And how God loved him, too."
"And when you read the Bible,—
Which you will learn to do,—
You'll see how great and good he was,
And how God loved him, too."
Illustration.
Illustration: Letter W."When a child is cross and angry,Never must her voice be heard;Only to herself most softlyMay she say this simple word,"Lead us not into temptation;"That will angry thoughts remove,Make her calm and still and gentle,With a spirit full of love.
Illustration: Letter W."When a child is cross and angry,Never must her voice be heard;Only to herself most softlyMay she say this simple word,"Lead us not into temptation;"That will angry thoughts remove,Make her calm and still and gentle,With a spirit full of love.
Illustration: Letter W.
"When a child is cross and angry,Never must her voice be heard;Only to herself most softlyMay she say this simple word,"Lead us not into temptation;"That will angry thoughts remove,Make her calm and still and gentle,With a spirit full of love.
"When a child is cross and angry,Never must her voice be heard;Only to herself most softlyMay she say this simple word,
"When a child is cross and angry,
Never must her voice be heard;
Only to herself most softly
May she say this simple word,
"Lead us not into temptation;"That will angry thoughts remove,Make her calm and still and gentle,With a spirit full of love.
"Lead us not into temptation;"
That will angry thoughts remove,
Make her calm and still and gentle,
With a spirit full of love.
Illustration."I hear the birds sing, mother,Yet know not what they say;I've listened to them oftenUntil they flew away."Say if their words, dear mother,To you are clear and plain,Or if, like me, you've listenedAt morn and night in vain.""We don't know what they say, dear;We think they sing their hymnAt early morning sunrise,Or at the twilight dim."When softly sings the mother,Within her downy nest,We think she's gently hushingHer little ones to rest."But this remember, darling,The birds are always kind;A cross or angry songsterI never yet could find."And you may learn a lessonFrom their sweet notes of love;Like them be always gentle,And please the God above."Illustration.Illustration.
Illustration."I hear the birds sing, mother,Yet know not what they say;I've listened to them oftenUntil they flew away."Say if their words, dear mother,To you are clear and plain,Or if, like me, you've listenedAt morn and night in vain.""We don't know what they say, dear;We think they sing their hymnAt early morning sunrise,Or at the twilight dim."When softly sings the mother,Within her downy nest,We think she's gently hushingHer little ones to rest."But this remember, darling,The birds are always kind;A cross or angry songsterI never yet could find."And you may learn a lessonFrom their sweet notes of love;Like them be always gentle,And please the God above."Illustration.Illustration.
Illustration.
"I hear the birds sing, mother,Yet know not what they say;I've listened to them oftenUntil they flew away."Say if their words, dear mother,To you are clear and plain,Or if, like me, you've listenedAt morn and night in vain.""We don't know what they say, dear;We think they sing their hymnAt early morning sunrise,Or at the twilight dim."When softly sings the mother,Within her downy nest,We think she's gently hushingHer little ones to rest."But this remember, darling,The birds are always kind;A cross or angry songsterI never yet could find."And you may learn a lessonFrom their sweet notes of love;Like them be always gentle,And please the God above."
"I hear the birds sing, mother,Yet know not what they say;I've listened to them oftenUntil they flew away.
"I hear the birds sing, mother,
Yet know not what they say;
I've listened to them often
Until they flew away.
"Say if their words, dear mother,To you are clear and plain,Or if, like me, you've listenedAt morn and night in vain."
"Say if their words, dear mother,
To you are clear and plain,
Or if, like me, you've listened
At morn and night in vain."
"We don't know what they say, dear;We think they sing their hymnAt early morning sunrise,Or at the twilight dim.
"We don't know what they say, dear;
We think they sing their hymn
At early morning sunrise,
Or at the twilight dim.
"When softly sings the mother,Within her downy nest,We think she's gently hushingHer little ones to rest.
"When softly sings the mother,
Within her downy nest,
We think she's gently hushing
Her little ones to rest.
"But this remember, darling,The birds are always kind;A cross or angry songsterI never yet could find.
"But this remember, darling,
The birds are always kind;
A cross or angry songster
I never yet could find.
"And you may learn a lessonFrom their sweet notes of love;Like them be always gentle,And please the God above."
"And you may learn a lesson
From their sweet notes of love;
Like them be always gentle,
And please the God above."
Illustration.
Illustration.
Illustration: Letter O."O Mother! here's the organ-man,And here's the monkey, too!Just see his funny gown of red,And little cap of blue!"O look! he's on the window there!His cap is in his paw;And now he bows and makes a face;What can it all be for?"O, now they've dropped some money in,While, quickly as he can,See! he puts on his cap, and givesThe pennies to the man."Mamma! why don't you look at him!You have not seen at all;Just see him climbing up and down,With paws so brown and small!"He's gone away! O, dear mamma,Why did you not come here?You never saw, in all your life,A thing one half as queer.""I'll tell you why, my little son,I do not like to seeThat monkey bow and jump about;'Tis no delight to me."They've had to treat him cruellyTo teach him how to play;They've had to whip and punish himAnd take his food away."And that is why I do not loveTo see him dancing so;And if you thought of it, my boy,You'd feel with me, I know."
Illustration: Letter O."O Mother! here's the organ-man,And here's the monkey, too!Just see his funny gown of red,And little cap of blue!"O look! he's on the window there!His cap is in his paw;And now he bows and makes a face;What can it all be for?"O, now they've dropped some money in,While, quickly as he can,See! he puts on his cap, and givesThe pennies to the man."Mamma! why don't you look at him!You have not seen at all;Just see him climbing up and down,With paws so brown and small!"He's gone away! O, dear mamma,Why did you not come here?You never saw, in all your life,A thing one half as queer.""I'll tell you why, my little son,I do not like to seeThat monkey bow and jump about;'Tis no delight to me."They've had to treat him cruellyTo teach him how to play;They've had to whip and punish himAnd take his food away."And that is why I do not loveTo see him dancing so;And if you thought of it, my boy,You'd feel with me, I know."
Illustration: Letter O.
"O Mother! here's the organ-man,And here's the monkey, too!Just see his funny gown of red,And little cap of blue!"O look! he's on the window there!His cap is in his paw;And now he bows and makes a face;What can it all be for?"O, now they've dropped some money in,While, quickly as he can,See! he puts on his cap, and givesThe pennies to the man."Mamma! why don't you look at him!You have not seen at all;Just see him climbing up and down,With paws so brown and small!"He's gone away! O, dear mamma,Why did you not come here?You never saw, in all your life,A thing one half as queer.""I'll tell you why, my little son,I do not like to seeThat monkey bow and jump about;'Tis no delight to me."They've had to treat him cruellyTo teach him how to play;They've had to whip and punish himAnd take his food away."And that is why I do not loveTo see him dancing so;And if you thought of it, my boy,You'd feel with me, I know."
"O Mother! here's the organ-man,And here's the monkey, too!Just see his funny gown of red,And little cap of blue!
"O Mother! here's the organ-man,
And here's the monkey, too!
Just see his funny gown of red,
And little cap of blue!
"O look! he's on the window there!His cap is in his paw;And now he bows and makes a face;What can it all be for?
"O look! he's on the window there!
His cap is in his paw;
And now he bows and makes a face;
What can it all be for?
"O, now they've dropped some money in,While, quickly as he can,See! he puts on his cap, and givesThe pennies to the man.
"O, now they've dropped some money in,
While, quickly as he can,
See! he puts on his cap, and gives
The pennies to the man.
"Mamma! why don't you look at him!You have not seen at all;Just see him climbing up and down,With paws so brown and small!
"Mamma! why don't you look at him!
You have not seen at all;
Just see him climbing up and down,
With paws so brown and small!
"He's gone away! O, dear mamma,Why did you not come here?You never saw, in all your life,A thing one half as queer."
"He's gone away! O, dear mamma,
Why did you not come here?
You never saw, in all your life,
A thing one half as queer."
"I'll tell you why, my little son,I do not like to seeThat monkey bow and jump about;'Tis no delight to me.
"I'll tell you why, my little son,
I do not like to see
That monkey bow and jump about;
'Tis no delight to me.
"They've had to treat him cruellyTo teach him how to play;They've had to whip and punish himAnd take his food away.
"They've had to treat him cruelly
To teach him how to play;
They've had to whip and punish him
And take his food away.
"And that is why I do not loveTo see him dancing so;And if you thought of it, my boy,You'd feel with me, I know."
"And that is why I do not love
To see him dancing so;
And if you thought of it, my boy,
You'd feel with me, I know."
Illustration: Letter C."Come to the window, mother!Look out, and you will seeHow fast these little clouds sail on,Above our old elm tree!"And tell me, dearest mother,Are these the sheep of heaven,That in that land are feeding,From morning until even?"How soft and white and shining!Oh! say, dear mother, thereIs everything so gentle,So lovely and so fair?""We cannot see them, darling,The sheep of heaven, here;And far more beautiful than thisDoes that bright land appear."Eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard,Nor tongue of man can tellThe glories of that home above,Where all the good shall dwell."Illustration.
Illustration: Letter C."Come to the window, mother!Look out, and you will seeHow fast these little clouds sail on,Above our old elm tree!"And tell me, dearest mother,Are these the sheep of heaven,That in that land are feeding,From morning until even?"How soft and white and shining!Oh! say, dear mother, thereIs everything so gentle,So lovely and so fair?""We cannot see them, darling,The sheep of heaven, here;And far more beautiful than thisDoes that bright land appear."Eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard,Nor tongue of man can tellThe glories of that home above,Where all the good shall dwell."Illustration.
Illustration: Letter C.
"Come to the window, mother!Look out, and you will seeHow fast these little clouds sail on,Above our old elm tree!"And tell me, dearest mother,Are these the sheep of heaven,That in that land are feeding,From morning until even?"How soft and white and shining!Oh! say, dear mother, thereIs everything so gentle,So lovely and so fair?""We cannot see them, darling,The sheep of heaven, here;And far more beautiful than thisDoes that bright land appear."Eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard,Nor tongue of man can tellThe glories of that home above,Where all the good shall dwell."
"Come to the window, mother!Look out, and you will seeHow fast these little clouds sail on,Above our old elm tree!
"Come to the window, mother!
Look out, and you will see
How fast these little clouds sail on,
Above our old elm tree!
"And tell me, dearest mother,Are these the sheep of heaven,That in that land are feeding,From morning until even?
"And tell me, dearest mother,
Are these the sheep of heaven,
That in that land are feeding,
From morning until even?
"How soft and white and shining!Oh! say, dear mother, thereIs everything so gentle,So lovely and so fair?"
"How soft and white and shining!
Oh! say, dear mother, there
Is everything so gentle,
So lovely and so fair?"
"We cannot see them, darling,The sheep of heaven, here;And far more beautiful than thisDoes that bright land appear.
"We cannot see them, darling,
The sheep of heaven, here;
And far more beautiful than this
Does that bright land appear.
"Eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard,Nor tongue of man can tellThe glories of that home above,Where all the good shall dwell."
"Eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard,
Nor tongue of man can tell
The glories of that home above,
Where all the good shall dwell."
Illustration.
Illustration: Letter T.The happiest hour of all the dayTo me, is always last;When both my studies and my play,My walks and work, are past.When round the bright warm fire we come,With hearts so light and free,And all within our happy homeAre talking quietly,Then, by my dear, kind father's sideI sit, or on his knee,And then I tell him I have triedHis gentle girl to be.And then he says the little childIs loved by every one,Who has a temper sweet and mildAnd smiling as the sun.Let me do always as I should,Nor vex my father dear;And let me be as glad and goodAs he would have me here.Illustration.
Illustration: Letter T.The happiest hour of all the dayTo me, is always last;When both my studies and my play,My walks and work, are past.When round the bright warm fire we come,With hearts so light and free,And all within our happy homeAre talking quietly,Then, by my dear, kind father's sideI sit, or on his knee,And then I tell him I have triedHis gentle girl to be.And then he says the little childIs loved by every one,Who has a temper sweet and mildAnd smiling as the sun.Let me do always as I should,Nor vex my father dear;And let me be as glad and goodAs he would have me here.Illustration.
Illustration: Letter T.
The happiest hour of all the dayTo me, is always last;When both my studies and my play,My walks and work, are past.When round the bright warm fire we come,With hearts so light and free,And all within our happy homeAre talking quietly,Then, by my dear, kind father's sideI sit, or on his knee,And then I tell him I have triedHis gentle girl to be.And then he says the little childIs loved by every one,Who has a temper sweet and mildAnd smiling as the sun.Let me do always as I should,Nor vex my father dear;And let me be as glad and goodAs he would have me here.
The happiest hour of all the dayTo me, is always last;When both my studies and my play,My walks and work, are past.
The happiest hour of all the day
To me, is always last;
When both my studies and my play,
My walks and work, are past.
When round the bright warm fire we come,With hearts so light and free,And all within our happy homeAre talking quietly,
When round the bright warm fire we come,
With hearts so light and free,
And all within our happy home
Are talking quietly,
Then, by my dear, kind father's sideI sit, or on his knee,And then I tell him I have triedHis gentle girl to be.
Then, by my dear, kind father's side
I sit, or on his knee,
And then I tell him I have tried
His gentle girl to be.
And then he says the little childIs loved by every one,Who has a temper sweet and mildAnd smiling as the sun.
And then he says the little child
Is loved by every one,
Who has a temper sweet and mild
And smiling as the sun.
Let me do always as I should,Nor vex my father dear;And let me be as glad and goodAs he would have me here.
Let me do always as I should,
Nor vex my father dear;
And let me be as glad and good
As he would have me here.
Illustration.
Illustration."My little Edward, how could youTell me a thing that was not true?And make me feel thus grieved and sadTo find I have a child so bad?"And then, to do a deed so mean,And wish by that yourself to screen!Would you have had me blame poor Tray,And send him from the fire away?"O! never, when you've disobeyed,Or by your mischief trouble made,Think that a wicked act is rightBecause you hide it from my sight."It will be always seen by One,Who knows each wrong that you have done;And I shall know it too, no doubt,For sin must always find you out."I cannot let you here to-dayWith me and little sisters stay;But you must go up stairs alone,Till you a better boy have grown."
Illustration."My little Edward, how could youTell me a thing that was not true?And make me feel thus grieved and sadTo find I have a child so bad?"And then, to do a deed so mean,And wish by that yourself to screen!Would you have had me blame poor Tray,And send him from the fire away?"O! never, when you've disobeyed,Or by your mischief trouble made,Think that a wicked act is rightBecause you hide it from my sight."It will be always seen by One,Who knows each wrong that you have done;And I shall know it too, no doubt,For sin must always find you out."I cannot let you here to-dayWith me and little sisters stay;But you must go up stairs alone,Till you a better boy have grown."
Illustration.
"My little Edward, how could youTell me a thing that was not true?And make me feel thus grieved and sadTo find I have a child so bad?"And then, to do a deed so mean,And wish by that yourself to screen!Would you have had me blame poor Tray,And send him from the fire away?"O! never, when you've disobeyed,Or by your mischief trouble made,Think that a wicked act is rightBecause you hide it from my sight."It will be always seen by One,Who knows each wrong that you have done;And I shall know it too, no doubt,For sin must always find you out."I cannot let you here to-dayWith me and little sisters stay;But you must go up stairs alone,Till you a better boy have grown."
"My little Edward, how could youTell me a thing that was not true?And make me feel thus grieved and sadTo find I have a child so bad?
"My little Edward, how could you
Tell me a thing that was not true?
And make me feel thus grieved and sad
To find I have a child so bad?
"And then, to do a deed so mean,And wish by that yourself to screen!Would you have had me blame poor Tray,And send him from the fire away?
"And then, to do a deed so mean,
And wish by that yourself to screen!
Would you have had me blame poor Tray,
And send him from the fire away?
"O! never, when you've disobeyed,Or by your mischief trouble made,Think that a wicked act is rightBecause you hide it from my sight.
"O! never, when you've disobeyed,
Or by your mischief trouble made,
Think that a wicked act is right
Because you hide it from my sight.
"It will be always seen by One,Who knows each wrong that you have done;And I shall know it too, no doubt,For sin must always find you out.
"It will be always seen by One,
Who knows each wrong that you have done;
And I shall know it too, no doubt,
For sin must always find you out.
"I cannot let you here to-dayWith me and little sisters stay;But you must go up stairs alone,Till you a better boy have grown."
"I cannot let you here to-day
With me and little sisters stay;
But you must go up stairs alone,
Till you a better boy have grown."
Illustration.Illustration: Letter C."Come hither, little brothers,And listen now to me,And I will read a storyTo both, while at my knee."Then Johnnie's flag hung idly,And Charlie hushed his drum;To hear sweet Mary's storyThe mimic soldiers come."'Tis of a boy no larger,My little Charles, than you;But he had been in battle,And all its terrors knew."His father was a captain;He had no child beside;And while he was an infantHis mother dear had died."And so from camp to battle,From fight to camp again,Had lived, this little hero,On many a bloody plain."One day, when shouts were loudestUpon the reddened field,—When came the victor's war-cry,'See! see! they fly! they yield!'—"Forth then, to seek his father,He went with eager joy;But with a chance ball wounded,Low lay the fearless boy!"The son of a brave chieftain,He made no sigh or groan;His father's hand yet tighterHe clasped within his own!"And so, when strife was ended,No more to be begun,In conquest's very momentThus fell the chieftain's son."Then John took out his feather,And put his flag away;And Charlie's drum was silentUntil another day.Illustration.
Illustration.Illustration: Letter C."Come hither, little brothers,And listen now to me,And I will read a storyTo both, while at my knee."Then Johnnie's flag hung idly,And Charlie hushed his drum;To hear sweet Mary's storyThe mimic soldiers come."'Tis of a boy no larger,My little Charles, than you;But he had been in battle,And all its terrors knew."His father was a captain;He had no child beside;And while he was an infantHis mother dear had died."And so from camp to battle,From fight to camp again,Had lived, this little hero,On many a bloody plain."One day, when shouts were loudestUpon the reddened field,—When came the victor's war-cry,'See! see! they fly! they yield!'—"Forth then, to seek his father,He went with eager joy;But with a chance ball wounded,Low lay the fearless boy!"The son of a brave chieftain,He made no sigh or groan;His father's hand yet tighterHe clasped within his own!"And so, when strife was ended,No more to be begun,In conquest's very momentThus fell the chieftain's son."Then John took out his feather,And put his flag away;And Charlie's drum was silentUntil another day.Illustration.
Illustration.
Illustration: Letter C.
"Come hither, little brothers,And listen now to me,And I will read a storyTo both, while at my knee."Then Johnnie's flag hung idly,And Charlie hushed his drum;To hear sweet Mary's storyThe mimic soldiers come."'Tis of a boy no larger,My little Charles, than you;But he had been in battle,And all its terrors knew."His father was a captain;He had no child beside;And while he was an infantHis mother dear had died."And so from camp to battle,From fight to camp again,Had lived, this little hero,On many a bloody plain."One day, when shouts were loudestUpon the reddened field,—When came the victor's war-cry,'See! see! they fly! they yield!'—"Forth then, to seek his father,He went with eager joy;But with a chance ball wounded,Low lay the fearless boy!"The son of a brave chieftain,He made no sigh or groan;His father's hand yet tighterHe clasped within his own!"And so, when strife was ended,No more to be begun,In conquest's very momentThus fell the chieftain's son."Then John took out his feather,And put his flag away;And Charlie's drum was silentUntil another day.
"Come hither, little brothers,And listen now to me,And I will read a storyTo both, while at my knee."
"Come hither, little brothers,
And listen now to me,
And I will read a story
To both, while at my knee."
Then Johnnie's flag hung idly,And Charlie hushed his drum;To hear sweet Mary's storyThe mimic soldiers come.
Then Johnnie's flag hung idly,
And Charlie hushed his drum;
To hear sweet Mary's story
The mimic soldiers come.
"'Tis of a boy no larger,My little Charles, than you;But he had been in battle,And all its terrors knew.
"'Tis of a boy no larger,
My little Charles, than you;
But he had been in battle,
And all its terrors knew.
"His father was a captain;He had no child beside;And while he was an infantHis mother dear had died.
"His father was a captain;
He had no child beside;
And while he was an infant
His mother dear had died.
"And so from camp to battle,From fight to camp again,Had lived, this little hero,On many a bloody plain.
"And so from camp to battle,
From fight to camp again,
Had lived, this little hero,
On many a bloody plain.
"One day, when shouts were loudestUpon the reddened field,—When came the victor's war-cry,'See! see! they fly! they yield!'—
"One day, when shouts were loudest
Upon the reddened field,—
When came the victor's war-cry,
'See! see! they fly! they yield!'—
"Forth then, to seek his father,He went with eager joy;But with a chance ball wounded,Low lay the fearless boy!
"Forth then, to seek his father,
He went with eager joy;
But with a chance ball wounded,
Low lay the fearless boy!
"The son of a brave chieftain,He made no sigh or groan;His father's hand yet tighterHe clasped within his own!
"The son of a brave chieftain,
He made no sigh or groan;
His father's hand yet tighter
He clasped within his own!
"And so, when strife was ended,No more to be begun,In conquest's very momentThus fell the chieftain's son."
"And so, when strife was ended,
No more to be begun,
In conquest's very moment
Thus fell the chieftain's son."
Then John took out his feather,And put his flag away;And Charlie's drum was silentUntil another day.
Then John took out his feather,
And put his flag away;
And Charlie's drum was silent
Until another day.
Illustration.
Illustration: Letter T."What are the flowers for, mamma,That spring up fresh and bright,And grow on every hill and plain,Where'er I turn my sight?"How do the flowers grow, mamma?I've pulled the leaves away,And tried to see them blossom out,On many a summer's day.""The flowers were made, my little child,That when our footsteps trodUpon the green and pleasant fields,We then might think of God."We may not see how they do grow,And bloom in beauty fair;We cannot tell how they can spreadTheir small leaves to the air:"But yet we know that God's kind handCreates these little flowers,And makes the warm sun shine on them,And waters them with showers."And so we love to think that He,Who paints their sweet leaves thus,Who sends the sunshine and the rain,Has thought and care for us."
Illustration: Letter T."What are the flowers for, mamma,That spring up fresh and bright,And grow on every hill and plain,Where'er I turn my sight?"How do the flowers grow, mamma?I've pulled the leaves away,And tried to see them blossom out,On many a summer's day.""The flowers were made, my little child,That when our footsteps trodUpon the green and pleasant fields,We then might think of God."We may not see how they do grow,And bloom in beauty fair;We cannot tell how they can spreadTheir small leaves to the air:"But yet we know that God's kind handCreates these little flowers,And makes the warm sun shine on them,And waters them with showers."And so we love to think that He,Who paints their sweet leaves thus,Who sends the sunshine and the rain,Has thought and care for us."
Illustration: Letter T.
"What are the flowers for, mamma,That spring up fresh and bright,And grow on every hill and plain,Where'er I turn my sight?"How do the flowers grow, mamma?I've pulled the leaves away,And tried to see them blossom out,On many a summer's day.""The flowers were made, my little child,That when our footsteps trodUpon the green and pleasant fields,We then might think of God."We may not see how they do grow,And bloom in beauty fair;We cannot tell how they can spreadTheir small leaves to the air:"But yet we know that God's kind handCreates these little flowers,And makes the warm sun shine on them,And waters them with showers."And so we love to think that He,Who paints their sweet leaves thus,Who sends the sunshine and the rain,Has thought and care for us."
"What are the flowers for, mamma,That spring up fresh and bright,And grow on every hill and plain,Where'er I turn my sight?
"What are the flowers for, mamma,
That spring up fresh and bright,
And grow on every hill and plain,
Where'er I turn my sight?
"How do the flowers grow, mamma?I've pulled the leaves away,And tried to see them blossom out,On many a summer's day."
"How do the flowers grow, mamma?
I've pulled the leaves away,
And tried to see them blossom out,
On many a summer's day."
"The flowers were made, my little child,That when our footsteps trodUpon the green and pleasant fields,We then might think of God.
"The flowers were made, my little child,
That when our footsteps trod
Upon the green and pleasant fields,
We then might think of God.
"We may not see how they do grow,And bloom in beauty fair;We cannot tell how they can spreadTheir small leaves to the air:
"We may not see how they do grow,
And bloom in beauty fair;
We cannot tell how they can spread
Their small leaves to the air:
"But yet we know that God's kind handCreates these little flowers,And makes the warm sun shine on them,And waters them with showers.
"But yet we know that God's kind hand
Creates these little flowers,
And makes the warm sun shine on them,
And waters them with showers.
"And so we love to think that He,Who paints their sweet leaves thus,Who sends the sunshine and the rain,Has thought and care for us."
"And so we love to think that He,
Who paints their sweet leaves thus,
Who sends the sunshine and the rain,
Has thought and care for us."
Illustration: Letter T.The holy Sabbath day has fled;And has it been well spent?Have I remembered what was said,And why the day was sent?May I be better all the week,For what to-day has taught;May I God's love and favor seek,And do the things I ought!
Illustration: Letter T.The holy Sabbath day has fled;And has it been well spent?Have I remembered what was said,And why the day was sent?May I be better all the week,For what to-day has taught;May I God's love and favor seek,And do the things I ought!
Illustration: Letter T.
The holy Sabbath day has fled;And has it been well spent?Have I remembered what was said,And why the day was sent?May I be better all the week,For what to-day has taught;May I God's love and favor seek,And do the things I ought!
The holy Sabbath day has fled;And has it been well spent?Have I remembered what was said,And why the day was sent?
The holy Sabbath day has fled;
And has it been well spent?
Have I remembered what was said,
And why the day was sent?
May I be better all the week,For what to-day has taught;May I God's love and favor seek,And do the things I ought!
May I be better all the week,
For what to-day has taught;
May I God's love and favor seek,
And do the things I ought!
Illustration: Letter T.Twas morning, and the pleasant lightShone on the hills, the trees, the flowers,And made a far-off country bright,A lovely land, but not like ours.A mother led her little childForth from his father's door away;And with the flowers he played, and smiledAs beautiful and bright as they.But when, at noon, the warm sun beatUpon the sweet boy's forehead fair,Tired and thirsty from the heat,He asked in vain for water there.The bottle, filled with water clearAt early day, was empty now;The mother laid her child so dearBeneath an old tree's spreading bough.She turned away, and heard the soundOf water, gushing like the rain;She raised her boy from off the ground,He drank, and played and smiled again.They travelled on for many a day,The mother and her little child;And found a home, far, far away,At last, among the deserts wild.Illustration.
Illustration: Letter T.Twas morning, and the pleasant lightShone on the hills, the trees, the flowers,And made a far-off country bright,A lovely land, but not like ours.A mother led her little childForth from his father's door away;And with the flowers he played, and smiledAs beautiful and bright as they.But when, at noon, the warm sun beatUpon the sweet boy's forehead fair,Tired and thirsty from the heat,He asked in vain for water there.The bottle, filled with water clearAt early day, was empty now;The mother laid her child so dearBeneath an old tree's spreading bough.She turned away, and heard the soundOf water, gushing like the rain;She raised her boy from off the ground,He drank, and played and smiled again.They travelled on for many a day,The mother and her little child;And found a home, far, far away,At last, among the deserts wild.Illustration.
Illustration: Letter T.
Twas morning, and the pleasant lightShone on the hills, the trees, the flowers,And made a far-off country bright,A lovely land, but not like ours.A mother led her little childForth from his father's door away;And with the flowers he played, and smiledAs beautiful and bright as they.But when, at noon, the warm sun beatUpon the sweet boy's forehead fair,Tired and thirsty from the heat,He asked in vain for water there.The bottle, filled with water clearAt early day, was empty now;The mother laid her child so dearBeneath an old tree's spreading bough.She turned away, and heard the soundOf water, gushing like the rain;She raised her boy from off the ground,He drank, and played and smiled again.They travelled on for many a day,The mother and her little child;And found a home, far, far away,At last, among the deserts wild.
Twas morning, and the pleasant lightShone on the hills, the trees, the flowers,And made a far-off country bright,A lovely land, but not like ours.
Twas morning, and the pleasant light
Shone on the hills, the trees, the flowers,
And made a far-off country bright,
A lovely land, but not like ours.
A mother led her little childForth from his father's door away;And with the flowers he played, and smiledAs beautiful and bright as they.
A mother led her little child
Forth from his father's door away;
And with the flowers he played, and smiled
As beautiful and bright as they.
But when, at noon, the warm sun beatUpon the sweet boy's forehead fair,Tired and thirsty from the heat,He asked in vain for water there.
But when, at noon, the warm sun beat
Upon the sweet boy's forehead fair,
Tired and thirsty from the heat,
He asked in vain for water there.
The bottle, filled with water clearAt early day, was empty now;The mother laid her child so dearBeneath an old tree's spreading bough.
The bottle, filled with water clear
At early day, was empty now;
The mother laid her child so dear
Beneath an old tree's spreading bough.
She turned away, and heard the soundOf water, gushing like the rain;She raised her boy from off the ground,He drank, and played and smiled again.
She turned away, and heard the sound
Of water, gushing like the rain;
She raised her boy from off the ground,
He drank, and played and smiled again.
They travelled on for many a day,The mother and her little child;And found a home, far, far away,At last, among the deserts wild.
They travelled on for many a day,
The mother and her little child;
And found a home, far, far away,
At last, among the deserts wild.
Illustration.
Illustration.The bird within its nestHas sung its evening hymn,And I must go to quiet rest,As the bright west grows dim.I see the twinkling star,That, when the sun has gone,Is shining out the first afar,To tell us day is done.If on this day I've beenA selfish, naughty child,May God forgive the wrong I've done,And make me kind and mild.May he still bless and keepMy father, mother dear;And may the eye that cannot sleepWatch o'er our pillows here,And guard us from all ill,Through this long, silent night,And bring us, by His holy will,To see the morning light.
Illustration.The bird within its nestHas sung its evening hymn,And I must go to quiet rest,As the bright west grows dim.I see the twinkling star,That, when the sun has gone,Is shining out the first afar,To tell us day is done.If on this day I've beenA selfish, naughty child,May God forgive the wrong I've done,And make me kind and mild.May he still bless and keepMy father, mother dear;And may the eye that cannot sleepWatch o'er our pillows here,And guard us from all ill,Through this long, silent night,And bring us, by His holy will,To see the morning light.
Illustration.
The bird within its nestHas sung its evening hymn,And I must go to quiet rest,As the bright west grows dim.I see the twinkling star,That, when the sun has gone,Is shining out the first afar,To tell us day is done.If on this day I've beenA selfish, naughty child,May God forgive the wrong I've done,And make me kind and mild.May he still bless and keepMy father, mother dear;And may the eye that cannot sleepWatch o'er our pillows here,And guard us from all ill,Through this long, silent night,And bring us, by His holy will,To see the morning light.
The bird within its nestHas sung its evening hymn,And I must go to quiet rest,As the bright west grows dim.
The bird within its nest
Has sung its evening hymn,
And I must go to quiet rest,
As the bright west grows dim.
I see the twinkling star,That, when the sun has gone,Is shining out the first afar,To tell us day is done.
I see the twinkling star,
That, when the sun has gone,
Is shining out the first afar,
To tell us day is done.
If on this day I've beenA selfish, naughty child,May God forgive the wrong I've done,And make me kind and mild.
If on this day I've been
A selfish, naughty child,
May God forgive the wrong I've done,
And make me kind and mild.
May he still bless and keepMy father, mother dear;And may the eye that cannot sleepWatch o'er our pillows here,
May he still bless and keep
My father, mother dear;
And may the eye that cannot sleep
Watch o'er our pillows here,
And guard us from all ill,Through this long, silent night,And bring us, by His holy will,To see the morning light.
And guard us from all ill,
Through this long, silent night,
And bring us, by His holy will,
To see the morning light.
Illustration: Letter S.Spring has come, dear mother!I've a violet found,Growing in its beautyFrom the cold, dark ground.You are sad, dear mother,Tears are in your eye;You're not glad to see it;Mother, tell me why?I remember.—Last year,Where our Willie lies,Grew the earliest violet,Blue as were his eyes.Then you told me, mother,That the flowers would fade,And their withered blossomsOn the earth be laid.But you said, as springtimeWould their buds restore,Willie would in heavenBe forevermore.Weep no more, dear mother!Violets are in bloom;And your darling WillieLives beyond the tomb.Illustration.
Illustration: Letter S.Spring has come, dear mother!I've a violet found,Growing in its beautyFrom the cold, dark ground.You are sad, dear mother,Tears are in your eye;You're not glad to see it;Mother, tell me why?I remember.—Last year,Where our Willie lies,Grew the earliest violet,Blue as were his eyes.Then you told me, mother,That the flowers would fade,And their withered blossomsOn the earth be laid.But you said, as springtimeWould their buds restore,Willie would in heavenBe forevermore.Weep no more, dear mother!Violets are in bloom;And your darling WillieLives beyond the tomb.Illustration.
Illustration: Letter S.
Spring has come, dear mother!I've a violet found,Growing in its beautyFrom the cold, dark ground.You are sad, dear mother,Tears are in your eye;You're not glad to see it;Mother, tell me why?I remember.—Last year,Where our Willie lies,Grew the earliest violet,Blue as were his eyes.Then you told me, mother,That the flowers would fade,And their withered blossomsOn the earth be laid.But you said, as springtimeWould their buds restore,Willie would in heavenBe forevermore.Weep no more, dear mother!Violets are in bloom;And your darling WillieLives beyond the tomb.
Spring has come, dear mother!I've a violet found,Growing in its beautyFrom the cold, dark ground.
Spring has come, dear mother!
I've a violet found,
Growing in its beauty
From the cold, dark ground.
You are sad, dear mother,Tears are in your eye;You're not glad to see it;Mother, tell me why?
You are sad, dear mother,
Tears are in your eye;
You're not glad to see it;
Mother, tell me why?
I remember.—Last year,Where our Willie lies,Grew the earliest violet,Blue as were his eyes.
I remember.—Last year,
Where our Willie lies,
Grew the earliest violet,
Blue as were his eyes.
Then you told me, mother,That the flowers would fade,And their withered blossomsOn the earth be laid.
Then you told me, mother,
That the flowers would fade,
And their withered blossoms
On the earth be laid.
But you said, as springtimeWould their buds restore,Willie would in heavenBe forevermore.
But you said, as springtime
Would their buds restore,
Willie would in heaven
Be forevermore.
Weep no more, dear mother!Violets are in bloom;And your darling WillieLives beyond the tomb.
Weep no more, dear mother!
Violets are in bloom;
And your darling Willie
Lives beyond the tomb.
Illustration.
Illustration: Letter L."Little children, when rejoicingIn the merry Christmas morn,'Mid your sports remember ever'Tis the day that Christ was born."When on earth, the blessed SaviourSaid, 'Let children come to me,'And the little ones he foldedIn his arms, how tenderly!""But the Saviour is in heaven,And we cannot see him now;We cannot receive his blessing,In his presence cannot bow.""Listen. In the holy Bible,Jesus Christ tells every childThat the way to gain his blessingIs by being good and mild.""Here on earth you may not see him;But when this short life is done,You shall live with him foreverWhere there is no setting sun.""So remember, Christmas morning,That on earth the Saviour came;And that still he guards and blessesEvery child who loves his name."Illustration.
Illustration: Letter L."Little children, when rejoicingIn the merry Christmas morn,'Mid your sports remember ever'Tis the day that Christ was born."When on earth, the blessed SaviourSaid, 'Let children come to me,'And the little ones he foldedIn his arms, how tenderly!""But the Saviour is in heaven,And we cannot see him now;We cannot receive his blessing,In his presence cannot bow.""Listen. In the holy Bible,Jesus Christ tells every childThat the way to gain his blessingIs by being good and mild.""Here on earth you may not see him;But when this short life is done,You shall live with him foreverWhere there is no setting sun.""So remember, Christmas morning,That on earth the Saviour came;And that still he guards and blessesEvery child who loves his name."Illustration.
Illustration: Letter L.
"Little children, when rejoicingIn the merry Christmas morn,'Mid your sports remember ever'Tis the day that Christ was born."When on earth, the blessed SaviourSaid, 'Let children come to me,'And the little ones he foldedIn his arms, how tenderly!""But the Saviour is in heaven,And we cannot see him now;We cannot receive his blessing,In his presence cannot bow.""Listen. In the holy Bible,Jesus Christ tells every childThat the way to gain his blessingIs by being good and mild.""Here on earth you may not see him;But when this short life is done,You shall live with him foreverWhere there is no setting sun.""So remember, Christmas morning,That on earth the Saviour came;And that still he guards and blessesEvery child who loves his name."
"Little children, when rejoicingIn the merry Christmas morn,'Mid your sports remember ever'Tis the day that Christ was born.
"Little children, when rejoicing
In the merry Christmas morn,
'Mid your sports remember ever
'Tis the day that Christ was born.
"When on earth, the blessed SaviourSaid, 'Let children come to me,'And the little ones he foldedIn his arms, how tenderly!"
"When on earth, the blessed Saviour
Said, 'Let children come to me,'
And the little ones he folded
In his arms, how tenderly!"
"But the Saviour is in heaven,And we cannot see him now;We cannot receive his blessing,In his presence cannot bow."
"But the Saviour is in heaven,
And we cannot see him now;
We cannot receive his blessing,
In his presence cannot bow."
"Listen. In the holy Bible,Jesus Christ tells every childThat the way to gain his blessingIs by being good and mild."
"Listen. In the holy Bible,
Jesus Christ tells every child
That the way to gain his blessing
Is by being good and mild."
"Here on earth you may not see him;But when this short life is done,You shall live with him foreverWhere there is no setting sun."
"Here on earth you may not see him;
But when this short life is done,
You shall live with him forever
Where there is no setting sun."
"So remember, Christmas morning,That on earth the Saviour came;And that still he guards and blessesEvery child who loves his name."
"So remember, Christmas morning,
That on earth the Saviour came;
And that still he guards and blesses
Every child who loves his name."
Illustration.