PREFACE.

PREFACE.Shouldan apology be needed for issuing a book of poetry so very simple as “Wee-Wee Songs,” it may be found in the article entitled “Mother Goose,” on page 7th. The desire expressed by Willie’s mother,“That those who love JesusWould oftener readThe sweet words he uttered,My lambs, ye must feed.”has ever found a warm response in the heart ofLeila.WEE-WEE SONGS FOR OUR LITTLE PETS.MOTHER GOOSE.“Mamma,” said our Sue,“You sent me to-day,Up stairs with the nurseAnd Willie to play.“And I told her I thoughtIt was wicked and silly,To say things like theseTo our dear little Willy—“‘Oh, hi-diddle,Diddle,The cat has theFiddle,The cow has jumpedOver the moon,The little dog laughedTo see all the sport,And the dish ran awayWith the spoon.’“Nurse says she has foundThe book of great use,For children are pleasedTo hear Mother Goose.“Now, is it not wrongTo tell them a lie?If not, I am sureI cannot see why.”“I think you are right,”Her mother replied;“Nurse must try to amuse himWith something beside.“But babies are pleasedWith the jingle of rhyme,And old Mother GooseHas been used a long time.“We must find Wee-Wee Songs,That are not quite so silly,And buy them for nurse,To amuse little Willy.“We give him, each day,Fresh milk and sweet bread,And his dear little mindMust be properly fed.“’Tis not easy to findSweet thoughts, good and true,In nursery rhymes;I wish, my dear Sue,That those who love JesusWould oftener readThose sweet words he uttered,My lambsye must feed![1]“For this beautiful world,So joyous and bright,Has so many thingsOf which poets might write.“The blue sky above us,The flowers and the trees,The warbling of birds,And the hum of the bees.“These bright thoughts would giveOur darling great pleasure,If written in simple,And sweet-flowing measure.SLEEP, DOLLY!Do, Miss Dolly,Shut your eye;I will wake youBy and by.Wee-Wee SongsI want to read;You must goTo sleep indeed.You’re my littlePet, ’tis true,But I can notRead to you;For you neverSeem to hear,Tho’ I read quiteLoud and clear.Little songs areNot for you;Mind, I’ve told youWhat to do!So, Miss DollyShut your eye;I will wake youBy and by.WAKE, DOLLY!Wee-Wee SongsAre put away;Dolly, wake,’Tis time to play!You have beenSo good to-dayI am sureYou ought to play.Dolly, nowYou must obey;Wake, I say,And come and play!Don’t you hear meWhen I say,Dolly, wake,’Tis time to play?Do you dareTo disobeyWhen I call,Come out to play?Are you deaf,My pet, to-day?Then I’llleadyouOut to play.ELLA AND THE ROSES.“Whatbeautiful roses! Oh do, dear mamma,Just pick one or two ere we go;If the gardener were here he would not refuseTo give us some flowers, I know.”“The gardener’snot here,” her mother replied;He asked us toseehis sweet flowers;“I trust, my dear child, you would not wish to steal,—These roses, you know, are not ours.“Their beautiful fragrance you now can inhale,Their lovely, bright colors enjoy,Should you steal but one rose you’d be happy no more,You would lose all this innocent joy.”“O no! dear mamma, I should not wish to steal,So I’ll bid these sweet roses adieu!Now, Rover,” said Ella, “we’re ready to play,And I will be happy with you.”IDA MAY.Nolittle girlMore bright and gay,Or happierThan Ida MayAs she ran offTo school one day,And passed the storeOf Mr. Gray,Where, near the door,Some ripe plums lay,And Satan whispered,Ida May—Take but one plum,Then run away;You’ll not be seenBy Mr. Gray.Oh, had she thoughtOne prayer to say,She’d not have sinned,Poor Ida May!She caught one up,Then ran away,And was not seenBy Mr. Gray.Ah, sinful child,To disobeyThe Word of God—Hear, Ida May!“Thou shalt not steal!”Now hear Him say,And you have stolenFrom Mr. Gray.The voice of GodWill you obey?It whispers now,Stop! Ida May,—’Tis not too late,Go back, you mayReturn the plumTo Mr. Gray.Then lift your heartTo God, and pray,“Forgive the sinOf Ida May.”That still, small voiceShe did obey,And ran with hasteTo Mr. Gray,And told him allWithout delay;The good man pitiedIda May.He gently wipedHer tears away;And when she left,Kind Mr. GraySaid to the child,“One moment stay—I’llgivesome plumsTo Ida May.”“I could not eatA plum to-day!”Said Ida, then,To Mr. Gray.She went to schoolAnd all the wayGod saw the heartOf Ida MayWas sweetly raisedTo Him, to prayThat He would washHer sins away—For Jesus’ sake.And God that day,Freely forgaveDear Ida May.THE PEACOCK.Isit right, Mr. Peacock, to strut about so?Your plumage is fine ’tis allowed;And hadyoubut painted that beautiful tail,You would then, with some reason, feel proud.Many bright little flowers, as pretty as you,Are found in some shady retreat.Go learn of the rose-buds and violets, too,Their modesty renders them sweet.God gave you the plumage we so much admire;God painted the butterfly’s wing;God deck’d the green fields with flowers so gay,And taught the dear birds how to sing.Many things in this beautiful world He has madeTo look quite as pretty as you;So please, Mr. Peacock, don’t feel quite so proud,As your gay, brilliant plumage we view!MINNIE’S FAITHFULNESS“Brother, may I unpack your trunk?” said little Minnie Bell.“O yes, my dear; how glad I am to get home safe and well;I’ve been in California for more than three long years,But I’m safely home at last, in spite of mother’s fears.”“Yes, Alfred, it has seemed, to dear mamma and me,A long, long time, and we are glad your happy face to see;Morning and evening, do you know? when we knelt down to pray,Mamma has asked, that God would bless and guard you while away.“And God has kindly heard her prayer, and kept you safe and well.”She worked awhile,—at length, she said, “Dear Alfred, please to tellWhere you have put your Bible? I’ve unpacked the trunk with care,And I have laid upon the bed most all the clothes you wear.“I’ve looked at every article, and yet I have not seenA Bible or a Testament; brother, what can it mean?I fear that you have been without a Bible all the way;Is it in California, or have you lost it,—say?”“You little chatter-box, do see the presents I have brought;This for mamma, and that for you; Why! really I had thoughtThe beautiful new dress I bought would please my sister well;How do you like this India fan, I ask you, Minnie Bell?”“O, it is very beautiful! I thank you, Alfred, dear;But yet you have not told me, what most I wish to hear.”“Well, Minnie,” said her brother, “if really you must know,When I sailed for California my Bible did not go.“I know ’twas wrong to leave it out, for never have I seenA Bible or a Testament in any place I’ve been;We did not often think of God when we were digging gold;That is the truth; now, Minnie dear, pray don’t begin to scold.”“Forgotten God for three long years! Alfred, can this be true?Dear brother, were you not afraid of God’s forgetting you?”He took the dear child in his arms, and bursting into tears,“My conduct has been wrong,” he said, “how sinful it appears!”Just then his mother entered, with her heart quite full of joyAnd gratitude to God above, who had kept her darling boy;She had been alone to thank him, and offer up a prayerThat God who had preserved her son, would keep him in his care.“Dear mother, will you pray,” said he, “and read in God’s own WordThat story of the Prodigal, which I have often heard;For I have wandered far away, but now desire to comeAnd love and serve that Being who hath safely brought me home?”Her prayer was heard; and Alfred Bell is now a Christian man,Serving his God with faithfulness, and doing all he canThat those who go to distant lands, to search for mines of gold,May find within God’s holy Word a mine of wealth untold.THE PULSIFER CHILDREN.Oh, Mother! said little Ruth Greenwood one day,Please come to the window this moment, I pray,For two little children are here, by the door,They are weary and cold, and they look very poor.The Pulsifer children, I see, said her mother,’Tis dear little Ella, and Harry, her brotherRun, call them in quickly! their mother, I knowReturned to this village a few days ago.I sent them, this morning, a cart-load of wood,And fear that they now may be suffering for food;We’ll fill up their baskets with bread and with meat,And give the dear children a plenty to eat.Their mother is proud, and she cannot endureThe neighbors should know they are now very poor;But since we’ve “a will,” we must find out “a way,”To help this poor widow—we must not delay.Her father’s a drunkard, her husband is dead,And she is too ill to hold up her head;The wretched old man now reels thro’ the street,And never provides them a mouthful to eat.Ruth ran to the door, and called them both in;Their feet were most naked, their garments were thin,Too thin to go out in this cold wintry weather;Here Ruth and her sister both whispered together.O, yes, sister Mary, those stockings you’ve knit,Just the thing, and so warm! I am sure they will fit;We’ll make up a bundle, and stow it awayIn the baskets they’ve left in the entry to-day.Little Ella and Harry were grateful indeed,That God had provided such friends in their need;Their baskets were filled with biscuit and meat,And warm shoes and stockings to cover their feet.The Greenwood’s oft drew from their plentiful store,And quietly sent to the poor widow’s doorSuch things as she needed. Her proud heart was melted;She welcomed their visits, and soon was contentedTo let little Harry and Ella go whereThey could hear of the Saviour, and his tender care,Of dear orphan children—the story, to day,You may read in a book called “A Will and A Way”[2]MORNING SONG AND MORNING PRAYER.MOTHER.Awake, my daughter, come and seeThis Robin red-breast on the tree;Open your drowsy eyes!Spring up from bed and see her now,She’s lighting on the highest bough,Come quick, before she flies!LILLIE.Yes, dear mamma, I see the bird,And sweeter notes I never heardThan she is warbling now;I hope she will not fly away,But sit and sing the live-long day,On this, her favorite bough.MOTHER.The birds must build their nests in Spring,They have to work as well as sing;To their Creator’s praise,Since early dawn, dear Lillie, sheHas warbled out, from yonder tree,Her very sweetest lays.Now tell me, who has kindly keptMy little daughter while she slept;Who heard her evening prayer,And gently closed the weary eye,Nor suffered danger to come nigh,But kept her in his care?LILLIE.I laid me down, mamma, and slept,Because the Lord sustained and keptHis child thro’ all the night;And now I lift my heart and pray,O, God, I thank thee for this day,That I may see its light!When all my friends were fast asleep,Thou didst my soul in safety keep,And took kind care of me;Father in Heaven, O, hear me now,As at thy feet I humbly bow,To ask a gift of thee.Give me thy spirit from above,That I may learn to know and loveMy best and dearest Friend,—The Savior, who hath died for me,That I his little lamb may be,O Lord thy spirit send!And now, be with me all the day,That whether I’m at work or play,I may remember, then,The eye of God is still on me,Oh, help me thy dear child to be,For Jesus’ sake,—Amen.PLAY-TIME.Lillie, putYour work away,Now ’tis timeTo go and play.You have beenSo good to-day,You’ll be happyWhen you play.BABY’S FIRST STEPS.Baby, darling,Do not fear,Move those littleFeet, my dear;Don’t stand waitingThere so long;You are growingVery strong.Here he comes,Oh, that’s the way!Nurse, I knowMamma will say,When she comes home, Why, how you talk!Is baby learning how to walk?Try again,Little pet,You have notFallen yet;Here she comes;Look, nurse, look!All alone,Three steps she took.When papaComes home to-night,It will give himGreat delight;And he will say, Why, how you talk!Are you sure the child can walk?Nurse, I loveOur baby so,I must teach herAll I know.That’s not much,Papa would say,He laughs at meMost every day,Because I’m oldEnough to read,Oh dear! that’s veryHard indeed.But, baby, we will not stop to talk,We are going out doors to teach you to walk.CONVERSATION UPON ICE.MOTHER AND DAUGHTER.“Come, dear,” said Mrs. Jones one day,To Jane, her little daughter,“Come, look at this large block of ice,Now floating in the water!“You could not lift it from the ground,If you should try all day,And yet, like a mere feather, now,You see it float away.”“Oh, yes, mamma, it does seem strange,That it should never sink,Why that large block of ice should float,I’m sure I cannot think.“How very kind it is in GodTo freeze the waters so,That on the top the ice remainsAnd cannot sink below!“For, while our winters are so cold,How short a time ’twould takeTo form one solid mass of ice,In river, pond, or lake!“And thus, from year to year, mamma,Winter would ever reign,For such a mass could never meltWhen summer came again.“But tell me how the ice is formed,And what can make it floatUpon the surface of the lake,Just like a little boat?”“Our Heavenly Father, Jane, has filledWith bubbles full of air,Each lump of ice—and we may seeHis goodness everywhere.“The air expands within the ice,Just as its Maker pleases,And rarifies to make it light,Whene’er the water freezes.“Thin cakes thus form in layers, Jane,As you may often seeOne ring within another, roundThe body of a tree,“And thus ’tis piled from week to week,While Jack Frost is about,Until the men with horses come,To float the treasure out.”“And what a luxury, mamma,These large ice blocks will beWhen summer comes, and we againSuch sultry weather see!“Last August, I remember well,When I came home from school,How good the water used to taste,With ice to make it cool.“And then, you know, we used to haveOur butter hard and nice,Our cake kept cool, and fish, and meat,Preserved with lumps of ice.”“Yes, dearest, God is ever kind—How constant is his care!He gives not only food and drink,And clothes for us to wear,—“But happy homes with luxuries filled,And this bright world of oursIs stored with precious gifts of love,Abundant fruits and flowers,“To gratify the taste of man,And fill his heart with joy;Then, should not grateful thoughts of GodEach passing hour employ?”“Yes, dear mamma, for warbling birdsSend up their sweetest lays,To thank Him for his gifts of love,And we should offer praise“To the great God, our dearest friend,Who lives and reigns above;Will you not pray to Him, mamma,To fill my heart with love?”HAPPY DOLLY.Happyat night,Happy by day;Happy at home,Happy away!Dolly darling,Never, never,Are you cross,But happy ever!EDDIE IN THE COUNTRY.“I’msure ’tis too pleasant this beautiful dayTo sit here so quietly playing,Come, Lillie, let’s be off to the mountain away,And see where the sheep are now straying!”So said little Eddie, and ran with great joy,To ask if his cousin could go;But tho’ his aunt wished to oblige the dear boy,She still was compelled to say no.“I have given my daughter a lesson to learn,Then follows a half hour’s sewing;Should this be well done, then with pleasure she’ll earn,And I shall not object to her going.“You remember, last evening, she promised papa,His handkerchief neatly to sew,I have fitted her work, when ’tis done,” said mamma,“And the lesson is learned, she may go.”“I can work after dinner,” said Lillie, “do pleaseJustfor onceto grant Eddie’s request.”“My dear,” said her mother, “’tis no use to teaze,After work, not before, you may rest.”Lillie took up her book, with a tear in her eye,She could scarce see a word that was in it;But Eddie declared ’twas of no use to cry,And she thought so herself in a minute.Resolving to try, and do all in her power,To make of each duty a pleasure,She conquered; and said to mamma, “in an hour,Please hear me recite, if you’ve leisure!”Her mother looked pleased, as she said, “how is this,Papa’s handkerchief hemmed and all ready?Well done, my dear child! Now give me a kiss,Then run out and find cousin Eddie.”BIBLE SOLD BY WEIGHT.Pleaseput the Bible in one scale, the papers in the other;’Tis mine? ’tis mine! dear Willie cried, and ran to tell his mother.His little heart was full of joy as he ran home again;How he obtained the Bible, young reader, we’ll explain.He went to buy his mother, at noon, a pound of tea,And, when the grocer weighed it out, the child observed that heTurned round to tear a Bible that on the counter lay,He had bought it for waste paper, he said that very day.He was almost out of paper to wrap his parcels in.Now the grocer could not read, and knew not what a sinIt was to tear this Holy Book and take each well-worn leafTo use for such a purpose; but when he saw the griefOf his little favorite, Willie, he kindly said, I’m sureI’ll give you the old volume if some papers you’ll procure,As much as this great book will weigh—you see it is not light,—Run home and see what you can find, and bring them before night.The boy was very poor, indeed, but he was good and kind,And when he went among his friends, it was not hard to findThose who approved of Willie’s care of God’s most Holy Word,They gladly gave the papers when the story they had heard.An hour had scarcely passed, when the grocer saw, with pleasure,The little boy returning to claim the promised treasure.He placed the Bible in one scale, the papers in the other.Oh, thank you, sir! ’tis mine! he cried, and ran to tell his mother.How happy was that mother; God’s Word was her delightA light unto her path by day,—a guiding star at night;She raised her heart in thankfulness, that he had learned to prizeHis precious Bible, and had gained a treasure in the skies.OH, SPARE THE BIRDS.Sparethe dear little birds, don’t kill them I pray!But listen, and hear their sweet song;To spoil all our music, and shoot them to-day,Oh, sportsmen, you know ’twould be wrong!At dawn of the day, they are warbling away,But they never have done the least harm;The summer’s most gone, they’ve a short time to stay—They will soon fly away from our farm.To the bright sunny South, they then will repair,In autumn they flock off together;Our Father in Heaven with kind, watchful care,Then guides them in search of warm weather.I’m sure ’twill displease Him, if merely for sportYou shoot these sweet songsters to-day;Remember, kind sportsmen, their life is but short;Oh, spare them, in pity, I pray!CROSS GIRL.Jane, my dear,How can you beCross to littleEmily!When she’s suchA darling child;Always gentle,Meek and mild.TRENTON FALLS.See Frontispiece and other views of Trenton Falls.CascadesroaringIn their might,—Waters pouringFrom the height,—Wildly boundingOn their way,—Loud resounding,Seem to say,—See us toiling,As we glide;—Hear us boiling,Far and wide.We are living,Not in vain,—We are givingBack againPlenteous rain-dropsTo the sun,As it cheers usWhile we run.Rising, leaping,Over hills,—We are keepingYonder millsSwiftly goingRound and round;Onward flowing,We are found.Useful ever,As we go;Silent never.Do you knowWe are teachingYou to-day;Hear our preaching.Children, stay!Learn a lessonOf the river;Yield your heartsTo God, their giver.Ever raisingGrateful praise,Loving, serving,All your days.PAPA’S REQUEST.

Shouldan apology be needed for issuing a book of poetry so very simple as “Wee-Wee Songs,” it may be found in the article entitled “Mother Goose,” on page 7th. The desire expressed by Willie’s mother,

“That those who love JesusWould oftener readThe sweet words he uttered,My lambs, ye must feed.”

has ever found a warm response in the heart ofLeila.

has ever found a warm response in the heart of

Leila.

“Mamma,” said our Sue,“You sent me to-day,Up stairs with the nurseAnd Willie to play.“And I told her I thoughtIt was wicked and silly,To say things like theseTo our dear little Willy—“‘Oh, hi-diddle,Diddle,The cat has theFiddle,The cow has jumpedOver the moon,The little dog laughedTo see all the sport,And the dish ran awayWith the spoon.’“Nurse says she has foundThe book of great use,For children are pleasedTo hear Mother Goose.“Now, is it not wrongTo tell them a lie?If not, I am sureI cannot see why.”“I think you are right,”Her mother replied;“Nurse must try to amuse himWith something beside.“But babies are pleasedWith the jingle of rhyme,And old Mother GooseHas been used a long time.“We must find Wee-Wee Songs,That are not quite so silly,And buy them for nurse,To amuse little Willy.“We give him, each day,Fresh milk and sweet bread,And his dear little mindMust be properly fed.“’Tis not easy to findSweet thoughts, good and true,In nursery rhymes;I wish, my dear Sue,That those who love JesusWould oftener readThose sweet words he uttered,My lambsye must feed![1]“For this beautiful world,So joyous and bright,Has so many thingsOf which poets might write.“The blue sky above us,The flowers and the trees,The warbling of birds,And the hum of the bees.“These bright thoughts would giveOur darling great pleasure,If written in simple,And sweet-flowing measure.

“Mamma,” said our Sue,“You sent me to-day,Up stairs with the nurseAnd Willie to play.

“And I told her I thoughtIt was wicked and silly,To say things like theseTo our dear little Willy—

“‘Oh, hi-diddle,Diddle,The cat has theFiddle,The cow has jumpedOver the moon,The little dog laughedTo see all the sport,And the dish ran awayWith the spoon.’

“Nurse says she has foundThe book of great use,For children are pleasedTo hear Mother Goose.

“Now, is it not wrongTo tell them a lie?If not, I am sureI cannot see why.”

“I think you are right,”Her mother replied;“Nurse must try to amuse himWith something beside.

“But babies are pleasedWith the jingle of rhyme,And old Mother GooseHas been used a long time.

“We must find Wee-Wee Songs,That are not quite so silly,And buy them for nurse,To amuse little Willy.

“We give him, each day,Fresh milk and sweet bread,And his dear little mindMust be properly fed.

“’Tis not easy to findSweet thoughts, good and true,In nursery rhymes;I wish, my dear Sue,

That those who love JesusWould oftener readThose sweet words he uttered,My lambsye must feed![1]

“For this beautiful world,So joyous and bright,Has so many thingsOf which poets might write.

“The blue sky above us,The flowers and the trees,The warbling of birds,And the hum of the bees.

“These bright thoughts would giveOur darling great pleasure,If written in simple,And sweet-flowing measure.

Do, Miss Dolly,Shut your eye;I will wake youBy and by.Wee-Wee SongsI want to read;You must goTo sleep indeed.You’re my littlePet, ’tis true,But I can notRead to you;For you neverSeem to hear,Tho’ I read quiteLoud and clear.Little songs areNot for you;Mind, I’ve told youWhat to do!So, Miss DollyShut your eye;I will wake youBy and by.

Do, Miss Dolly,Shut your eye;I will wake youBy and by.

Wee-Wee SongsI want to read;You must goTo sleep indeed.

You’re my littlePet, ’tis true,But I can notRead to you;

For you neverSeem to hear,Tho’ I read quiteLoud and clear.

Little songs areNot for you;Mind, I’ve told youWhat to do!

So, Miss DollyShut your eye;I will wake youBy and by.

Wee-Wee SongsAre put away;Dolly, wake,’Tis time to play!You have beenSo good to-dayI am sureYou ought to play.Dolly, nowYou must obey;Wake, I say,And come and play!Don’t you hear meWhen I say,Dolly, wake,’Tis time to play?Do you dareTo disobeyWhen I call,Come out to play?Are you deaf,My pet, to-day?Then I’llleadyouOut to play.

Wee-Wee SongsAre put away;Dolly, wake,’Tis time to play!

You have beenSo good to-dayI am sureYou ought to play.

Dolly, nowYou must obey;Wake, I say,And come and play!

Don’t you hear meWhen I say,Dolly, wake,’Tis time to play?

Do you dareTo disobeyWhen I call,Come out to play?

Are you deaf,My pet, to-day?Then I’llleadyouOut to play.

“Whatbeautiful roses! Oh do, dear mamma,Just pick one or two ere we go;If the gardener were here he would not refuseTo give us some flowers, I know.”“The gardener’snot here,” her mother replied;He asked us toseehis sweet flowers;“I trust, my dear child, you would not wish to steal,—These roses, you know, are not ours.“Their beautiful fragrance you now can inhale,Their lovely, bright colors enjoy,Should you steal but one rose you’d be happy no more,You would lose all this innocent joy.”“O no! dear mamma, I should not wish to steal,So I’ll bid these sweet roses adieu!Now, Rover,” said Ella, “we’re ready to play,And I will be happy with you.”

“Whatbeautiful roses! Oh do, dear mamma,Just pick one or two ere we go;If the gardener were here he would not refuseTo give us some flowers, I know.”

“The gardener’snot here,” her mother replied;He asked us toseehis sweet flowers;“I trust, my dear child, you would not wish to steal,—These roses, you know, are not ours.

“Their beautiful fragrance you now can inhale,Their lovely, bright colors enjoy,Should you steal but one rose you’d be happy no more,You would lose all this innocent joy.”

“O no! dear mamma, I should not wish to steal,So I’ll bid these sweet roses adieu!Now, Rover,” said Ella, “we’re ready to play,And I will be happy with you.”

Nolittle girlMore bright and gay,Or happierThan Ida MayAs she ran offTo school one day,And passed the storeOf Mr. Gray,Where, near the door,Some ripe plums lay,And Satan whispered,Ida May—Take but one plum,Then run away;You’ll not be seenBy Mr. Gray.Oh, had she thoughtOne prayer to say,She’d not have sinned,Poor Ida May!She caught one up,Then ran away,And was not seenBy Mr. Gray.Ah, sinful child,To disobeyThe Word of God—Hear, Ida May!“Thou shalt not steal!”Now hear Him say,And you have stolenFrom Mr. Gray.The voice of GodWill you obey?It whispers now,Stop! Ida May,—’Tis not too late,Go back, you mayReturn the plumTo Mr. Gray.Then lift your heartTo God, and pray,“Forgive the sinOf Ida May.”That still, small voiceShe did obey,And ran with hasteTo Mr. Gray,And told him allWithout delay;The good man pitiedIda May.He gently wipedHer tears away;And when she left,Kind Mr. GraySaid to the child,“One moment stay—I’llgivesome plumsTo Ida May.”“I could not eatA plum to-day!”Said Ida, then,To Mr. Gray.She went to schoolAnd all the wayGod saw the heartOf Ida MayWas sweetly raisedTo Him, to prayThat He would washHer sins away—For Jesus’ sake.And God that day,Freely forgaveDear Ida May.

Nolittle girlMore bright and gay,Or happierThan Ida May

As she ran offTo school one day,And passed the storeOf Mr. Gray,

Where, near the door,Some ripe plums lay,And Satan whispered,Ida May—

Take but one plum,Then run away;You’ll not be seenBy Mr. Gray.

Oh, had she thoughtOne prayer to say,She’d not have sinned,Poor Ida May!

She caught one up,Then ran away,And was not seenBy Mr. Gray.

Ah, sinful child,To disobeyThe Word of God—Hear, Ida May!

“Thou shalt not steal!”Now hear Him say,And you have stolenFrom Mr. Gray.

The voice of GodWill you obey?It whispers now,Stop! Ida May,—

’Tis not too late,Go back, you mayReturn the plumTo Mr. Gray.

Then lift your heartTo God, and pray,“Forgive the sinOf Ida May.”

That still, small voiceShe did obey,And ran with hasteTo Mr. Gray,

And told him allWithout delay;The good man pitiedIda May.

He gently wipedHer tears away;And when she left,Kind Mr. Gray

Said to the child,“One moment stay—I’llgivesome plumsTo Ida May.”

“I could not eatA plum to-day!”Said Ida, then,To Mr. Gray.

She went to schoolAnd all the wayGod saw the heartOf Ida May

Was sweetly raisedTo Him, to prayThat He would washHer sins away—

For Jesus’ sake.And God that day,Freely forgaveDear Ida May.

Isit right, Mr. Peacock, to strut about so?Your plumage is fine ’tis allowed;And hadyoubut painted that beautiful tail,You would then, with some reason, feel proud.Many bright little flowers, as pretty as you,Are found in some shady retreat.Go learn of the rose-buds and violets, too,Their modesty renders them sweet.God gave you the plumage we so much admire;God painted the butterfly’s wing;God deck’d the green fields with flowers so gay,And taught the dear birds how to sing.Many things in this beautiful world He has madeTo look quite as pretty as you;So please, Mr. Peacock, don’t feel quite so proud,As your gay, brilliant plumage we view!

Isit right, Mr. Peacock, to strut about so?Your plumage is fine ’tis allowed;And hadyoubut painted that beautiful tail,You would then, with some reason, feel proud.

Many bright little flowers, as pretty as you,Are found in some shady retreat.Go learn of the rose-buds and violets, too,Their modesty renders them sweet.

God gave you the plumage we so much admire;God painted the butterfly’s wing;God deck’d the green fields with flowers so gay,And taught the dear birds how to sing.

Many things in this beautiful world He has madeTo look quite as pretty as you;So please, Mr. Peacock, don’t feel quite so proud,As your gay, brilliant plumage we view!

“Brother, may I unpack your trunk?” said little Minnie Bell.“O yes, my dear; how glad I am to get home safe and well;I’ve been in California for more than three long years,But I’m safely home at last, in spite of mother’s fears.”“Yes, Alfred, it has seemed, to dear mamma and me,A long, long time, and we are glad your happy face to see;Morning and evening, do you know? when we knelt down to pray,Mamma has asked, that God would bless and guard you while away.“And God has kindly heard her prayer, and kept you safe and well.”She worked awhile,—at length, she said, “Dear Alfred, please to tellWhere you have put your Bible? I’ve unpacked the trunk with care,And I have laid upon the bed most all the clothes you wear.“I’ve looked at every article, and yet I have not seenA Bible or a Testament; brother, what can it mean?I fear that you have been without a Bible all the way;Is it in California, or have you lost it,—say?”“You little chatter-box, do see the presents I have brought;This for mamma, and that for you; Why! really I had thoughtThe beautiful new dress I bought would please my sister well;How do you like this India fan, I ask you, Minnie Bell?”“O, it is very beautiful! I thank you, Alfred, dear;But yet you have not told me, what most I wish to hear.”“Well, Minnie,” said her brother, “if really you must know,When I sailed for California my Bible did not go.“I know ’twas wrong to leave it out, for never have I seenA Bible or a Testament in any place I’ve been;We did not often think of God when we were digging gold;That is the truth; now, Minnie dear, pray don’t begin to scold.”“Forgotten God for three long years! Alfred, can this be true?Dear brother, were you not afraid of God’s forgetting you?”He took the dear child in his arms, and bursting into tears,“My conduct has been wrong,” he said, “how sinful it appears!”Just then his mother entered, with her heart quite full of joyAnd gratitude to God above, who had kept her darling boy;She had been alone to thank him, and offer up a prayerThat God who had preserved her son, would keep him in his care.“Dear mother, will you pray,” said he, “and read in God’s own WordThat story of the Prodigal, which I have often heard;For I have wandered far away, but now desire to comeAnd love and serve that Being who hath safely brought me home?”Her prayer was heard; and Alfred Bell is now a Christian man,Serving his God with faithfulness, and doing all he canThat those who go to distant lands, to search for mines of gold,May find within God’s holy Word a mine of wealth untold.

“Yes, Alfred, it has seemed, to dear mamma and me,A long, long time, and we are glad your happy face to see;Morning and evening, do you know? when we knelt down to pray,Mamma has asked, that God would bless and guard you while away.

“And God has kindly heard her prayer, and kept you safe and well.”She worked awhile,—at length, she said, “Dear Alfred, please to tellWhere you have put your Bible? I’ve unpacked the trunk with care,And I have laid upon the bed most all the clothes you wear.

“I’ve looked at every article, and yet I have not seenA Bible or a Testament; brother, what can it mean?I fear that you have been without a Bible all the way;Is it in California, or have you lost it,—say?”

“You little chatter-box, do see the presents I have brought;This for mamma, and that for you; Why! really I had thoughtThe beautiful new dress I bought would please my sister well;How do you like this India fan, I ask you, Minnie Bell?”

“O, it is very beautiful! I thank you, Alfred, dear;But yet you have not told me, what most I wish to hear.”“Well, Minnie,” said her brother, “if really you must know,When I sailed for California my Bible did not go.

“I know ’twas wrong to leave it out, for never have I seenA Bible or a Testament in any place I’ve been;We did not often think of God when we were digging gold;That is the truth; now, Minnie dear, pray don’t begin to scold.”

“Forgotten God for three long years! Alfred, can this be true?Dear brother, were you not afraid of God’s forgetting you?”He took the dear child in his arms, and bursting into tears,“My conduct has been wrong,” he said, “how sinful it appears!”

Just then his mother entered, with her heart quite full of joyAnd gratitude to God above, who had kept her darling boy;She had been alone to thank him, and offer up a prayerThat God who had preserved her son, would keep him in his care.

“Dear mother, will you pray,” said he, “and read in God’s own WordThat story of the Prodigal, which I have often heard;For I have wandered far away, but now desire to comeAnd love and serve that Being who hath safely brought me home?”

Her prayer was heard; and Alfred Bell is now a Christian man,Serving his God with faithfulness, and doing all he canThat those who go to distant lands, to search for mines of gold,May find within God’s holy Word a mine of wealth untold.

Oh, Mother! said little Ruth Greenwood one day,Please come to the window this moment, I pray,For two little children are here, by the door,They are weary and cold, and they look very poor.The Pulsifer children, I see, said her mother,’Tis dear little Ella, and Harry, her brotherRun, call them in quickly! their mother, I knowReturned to this village a few days ago.I sent them, this morning, a cart-load of wood,And fear that they now may be suffering for food;We’ll fill up their baskets with bread and with meat,And give the dear children a plenty to eat.Their mother is proud, and she cannot endureThe neighbors should know they are now very poor;But since we’ve “a will,” we must find out “a way,”To help this poor widow—we must not delay.Her father’s a drunkard, her husband is dead,And she is too ill to hold up her head;The wretched old man now reels thro’ the street,And never provides them a mouthful to eat.Ruth ran to the door, and called them both in;Their feet were most naked, their garments were thin,Too thin to go out in this cold wintry weather;Here Ruth and her sister both whispered together.O, yes, sister Mary, those stockings you’ve knit,Just the thing, and so warm! I am sure they will fit;We’ll make up a bundle, and stow it awayIn the baskets they’ve left in the entry to-day.Little Ella and Harry were grateful indeed,That God had provided such friends in their need;Their baskets were filled with biscuit and meat,And warm shoes and stockings to cover their feet.The Greenwood’s oft drew from their plentiful store,And quietly sent to the poor widow’s doorSuch things as she needed. Her proud heart was melted;She welcomed their visits, and soon was contentedTo let little Harry and Ella go whereThey could hear of the Saviour, and his tender care,Of dear orphan children—the story, to day,You may read in a book called “A Will and A Way”[2]

Oh, Mother! said little Ruth Greenwood one day,Please come to the window this moment, I pray,For two little children are here, by the door,They are weary and cold, and they look very poor.

The Pulsifer children, I see, said her mother,’Tis dear little Ella, and Harry, her brotherRun, call them in quickly! their mother, I knowReturned to this village a few days ago.

I sent them, this morning, a cart-load of wood,And fear that they now may be suffering for food;We’ll fill up their baskets with bread and with meat,And give the dear children a plenty to eat.

Their mother is proud, and she cannot endureThe neighbors should know they are now very poor;But since we’ve “a will,” we must find out “a way,”To help this poor widow—we must not delay.

Her father’s a drunkard, her husband is dead,And she is too ill to hold up her head;The wretched old man now reels thro’ the street,And never provides them a mouthful to eat.

Ruth ran to the door, and called them both in;Their feet were most naked, their garments were thin,Too thin to go out in this cold wintry weather;Here Ruth and her sister both whispered together.

O, yes, sister Mary, those stockings you’ve knit,Just the thing, and so warm! I am sure they will fit;We’ll make up a bundle, and stow it awayIn the baskets they’ve left in the entry to-day.

Little Ella and Harry were grateful indeed,That God had provided such friends in their need;Their baskets were filled with biscuit and meat,And warm shoes and stockings to cover their feet.

The Greenwood’s oft drew from their plentiful store,And quietly sent to the poor widow’s doorSuch things as she needed. Her proud heart was melted;She welcomed their visits, and soon was contentedTo let little Harry and Ella go whereThey could hear of the Saviour, and his tender care,Of dear orphan children—the story, to day,You may read in a book called “A Will and A Way”[2]

MOTHER.

Awake, my daughter, come and seeThis Robin red-breast on the tree;Open your drowsy eyes!Spring up from bed and see her now,She’s lighting on the highest bough,Come quick, before she flies!

LILLIE.

Yes, dear mamma, I see the bird,And sweeter notes I never heardThan she is warbling now;I hope she will not fly away,But sit and sing the live-long day,On this, her favorite bough.

MOTHER.

The birds must build their nests in Spring,They have to work as well as sing;To their Creator’s praise,Since early dawn, dear Lillie, sheHas warbled out, from yonder tree,Her very sweetest lays.Now tell me, who has kindly keptMy little daughter while she slept;Who heard her evening prayer,And gently closed the weary eye,Nor suffered danger to come nigh,But kept her in his care?

The birds must build their nests in Spring,They have to work as well as sing;To their Creator’s praise,Since early dawn, dear Lillie, sheHas warbled out, from yonder tree,Her very sweetest lays.

Now tell me, who has kindly keptMy little daughter while she slept;Who heard her evening prayer,And gently closed the weary eye,Nor suffered danger to come nigh,But kept her in his care?

LILLIE.

I laid me down, mamma, and slept,Because the Lord sustained and keptHis child thro’ all the night;And now I lift my heart and pray,O, God, I thank thee for this day,That I may see its light!When all my friends were fast asleep,Thou didst my soul in safety keep,And took kind care of me;Father in Heaven, O, hear me now,As at thy feet I humbly bow,To ask a gift of thee.Give me thy spirit from above,That I may learn to know and loveMy best and dearest Friend,—The Savior, who hath died for me,That I his little lamb may be,O Lord thy spirit send!And now, be with me all the day,That whether I’m at work or play,I may remember, then,The eye of God is still on me,Oh, help me thy dear child to be,For Jesus’ sake,—Amen.

I laid me down, mamma, and slept,Because the Lord sustained and keptHis child thro’ all the night;And now I lift my heart and pray,O, God, I thank thee for this day,That I may see its light!

When all my friends were fast asleep,Thou didst my soul in safety keep,And took kind care of me;Father in Heaven, O, hear me now,As at thy feet I humbly bow,To ask a gift of thee.

Give me thy spirit from above,That I may learn to know and loveMy best and dearest Friend,—The Savior, who hath died for me,That I his little lamb may be,O Lord thy spirit send!

And now, be with me all the day,That whether I’m at work or play,I may remember, then,The eye of God is still on me,Oh, help me thy dear child to be,For Jesus’ sake,—Amen.

Lillie, putYour work away,Now ’tis timeTo go and play.You have beenSo good to-day,You’ll be happyWhen you play.

Lillie, putYour work away,Now ’tis timeTo go and play.

You have beenSo good to-day,You’ll be happyWhen you play.

Baby, darling,Do not fear,Move those littleFeet, my dear;Don’t stand waitingThere so long;You are growingVery strong.Here he comes,Oh, that’s the way!Nurse, I knowMamma will say,

Baby, darling,Do not fear,Move those littleFeet, my dear;

Don’t stand waitingThere so long;You are growingVery strong.

Here he comes,Oh, that’s the way!Nurse, I knowMamma will say,

When she comes home, Why, how you talk!Is baby learning how to walk?

Try again,Little pet,You have notFallen yet;Here she comes;Look, nurse, look!All alone,Three steps she took.When papaComes home to-night,It will give himGreat delight;

Try again,Little pet,You have notFallen yet;

Here she comes;Look, nurse, look!All alone,Three steps she took.

When papaComes home to-night,It will give himGreat delight;

And he will say, Why, how you talk!Are you sure the child can walk?

Nurse, I loveOur baby so,I must teach herAll I know.That’s not much,Papa would say,He laughs at meMost every day,Because I’m oldEnough to read,Oh dear! that’s veryHard indeed.

Nurse, I loveOur baby so,I must teach herAll I know.

That’s not much,Papa would say,He laughs at meMost every day,

Because I’m oldEnough to read,Oh dear! that’s veryHard indeed.

But, baby, we will not stop to talk,We are going out doors to teach you to walk.

“Come, dear,” said Mrs. Jones one day,To Jane, her little daughter,“Come, look at this large block of ice,Now floating in the water!“You could not lift it from the ground,If you should try all day,And yet, like a mere feather, now,You see it float away.”“Oh, yes, mamma, it does seem strange,That it should never sink,Why that large block of ice should float,I’m sure I cannot think.“How very kind it is in GodTo freeze the waters so,That on the top the ice remainsAnd cannot sink below!“For, while our winters are so cold,How short a time ’twould takeTo form one solid mass of ice,In river, pond, or lake!“And thus, from year to year, mamma,Winter would ever reign,For such a mass could never meltWhen summer came again.“But tell me how the ice is formed,And what can make it floatUpon the surface of the lake,Just like a little boat?”“Our Heavenly Father, Jane, has filledWith bubbles full of air,Each lump of ice—and we may seeHis goodness everywhere.“The air expands within the ice,Just as its Maker pleases,And rarifies to make it light,Whene’er the water freezes.“Thin cakes thus form in layers, Jane,As you may often seeOne ring within another, roundThe body of a tree,“And thus ’tis piled from week to week,While Jack Frost is about,Until the men with horses come,To float the treasure out.”“And what a luxury, mamma,These large ice blocks will beWhen summer comes, and we againSuch sultry weather see!“Last August, I remember well,When I came home from school,How good the water used to taste,With ice to make it cool.“And then, you know, we used to haveOur butter hard and nice,Our cake kept cool, and fish, and meat,Preserved with lumps of ice.”“Yes, dearest, God is ever kind—How constant is his care!He gives not only food and drink,And clothes for us to wear,—“But happy homes with luxuries filled,And this bright world of oursIs stored with precious gifts of love,Abundant fruits and flowers,“To gratify the taste of man,And fill his heart with joy;Then, should not grateful thoughts of GodEach passing hour employ?”“Yes, dear mamma, for warbling birdsSend up their sweetest lays,To thank Him for his gifts of love,And we should offer praise“To the great God, our dearest friend,Who lives and reigns above;Will you not pray to Him, mamma,To fill my heart with love?”

“Come, dear,” said Mrs. Jones one day,To Jane, her little daughter,“Come, look at this large block of ice,Now floating in the water!

“You could not lift it from the ground,If you should try all day,And yet, like a mere feather, now,You see it float away.”

“Oh, yes, mamma, it does seem strange,That it should never sink,Why that large block of ice should float,I’m sure I cannot think.

“How very kind it is in GodTo freeze the waters so,That on the top the ice remainsAnd cannot sink below!

“For, while our winters are so cold,How short a time ’twould takeTo form one solid mass of ice,In river, pond, or lake!

“And thus, from year to year, mamma,Winter would ever reign,For such a mass could never meltWhen summer came again.

“But tell me how the ice is formed,And what can make it floatUpon the surface of the lake,Just like a little boat?”

“Our Heavenly Father, Jane, has filledWith bubbles full of air,Each lump of ice—and we may seeHis goodness everywhere.

“The air expands within the ice,Just as its Maker pleases,And rarifies to make it light,Whene’er the water freezes.

“Thin cakes thus form in layers, Jane,As you may often seeOne ring within another, roundThe body of a tree,

“And thus ’tis piled from week to week,While Jack Frost is about,Until the men with horses come,To float the treasure out.”

“And what a luxury, mamma,These large ice blocks will beWhen summer comes, and we againSuch sultry weather see!

“Last August, I remember well,When I came home from school,How good the water used to taste,With ice to make it cool.

“And then, you know, we used to haveOur butter hard and nice,Our cake kept cool, and fish, and meat,Preserved with lumps of ice.”

“Yes, dearest, God is ever kind—How constant is his care!He gives not only food and drink,And clothes for us to wear,—

“But happy homes with luxuries filled,And this bright world of oursIs stored with precious gifts of love,Abundant fruits and flowers,

“To gratify the taste of man,And fill his heart with joy;Then, should not grateful thoughts of GodEach passing hour employ?”

“Yes, dear mamma, for warbling birdsSend up their sweetest lays,To thank Him for his gifts of love,And we should offer praise

“To the great God, our dearest friend,Who lives and reigns above;Will you not pray to Him, mamma,To fill my heart with love?”

Happyat night,Happy by day;Happy at home,Happy away!Dolly darling,Never, never,Are you cross,But happy ever!

Happyat night,Happy by day;Happy at home,Happy away!

Dolly darling,Never, never,Are you cross,But happy ever!

“I’msure ’tis too pleasant this beautiful dayTo sit here so quietly playing,Come, Lillie, let’s be off to the mountain away,And see where the sheep are now straying!”So said little Eddie, and ran with great joy,To ask if his cousin could go;But tho’ his aunt wished to oblige the dear boy,She still was compelled to say no.“I have given my daughter a lesson to learn,Then follows a half hour’s sewing;Should this be well done, then with pleasure she’ll earn,And I shall not object to her going.“You remember, last evening, she promised papa,His handkerchief neatly to sew,I have fitted her work, when ’tis done,” said mamma,“And the lesson is learned, she may go.”“I can work after dinner,” said Lillie, “do pleaseJustfor onceto grant Eddie’s request.”“My dear,” said her mother, “’tis no use to teaze,After work, not before, you may rest.”Lillie took up her book, with a tear in her eye,She could scarce see a word that was in it;But Eddie declared ’twas of no use to cry,And she thought so herself in a minute.Resolving to try, and do all in her power,To make of each duty a pleasure,She conquered; and said to mamma, “in an hour,Please hear me recite, if you’ve leisure!”Her mother looked pleased, as she said, “how is this,Papa’s handkerchief hemmed and all ready?Well done, my dear child! Now give me a kiss,Then run out and find cousin Eddie.”

“I’msure ’tis too pleasant this beautiful dayTo sit here so quietly playing,Come, Lillie, let’s be off to the mountain away,And see where the sheep are now straying!”

So said little Eddie, and ran with great joy,To ask if his cousin could go;But tho’ his aunt wished to oblige the dear boy,She still was compelled to say no.

“I have given my daughter a lesson to learn,Then follows a half hour’s sewing;Should this be well done, then with pleasure she’ll earn,And I shall not object to her going.

“You remember, last evening, she promised papa,His handkerchief neatly to sew,I have fitted her work, when ’tis done,” said mamma,“And the lesson is learned, she may go.”

“I can work after dinner,” said Lillie, “do pleaseJustfor onceto grant Eddie’s request.”“My dear,” said her mother, “’tis no use to teaze,After work, not before, you may rest.”

Lillie took up her book, with a tear in her eye,She could scarce see a word that was in it;But Eddie declared ’twas of no use to cry,And she thought so herself in a minute.

Resolving to try, and do all in her power,To make of each duty a pleasure,She conquered; and said to mamma, “in an hour,Please hear me recite, if you’ve leisure!”

Her mother looked pleased, as she said, “how is this,Papa’s handkerchief hemmed and all ready?Well done, my dear child! Now give me a kiss,Then run out and find cousin Eddie.”

Pleaseput the Bible in one scale, the papers in the other;’Tis mine? ’tis mine! dear Willie cried, and ran to tell his mother.His little heart was full of joy as he ran home again;How he obtained the Bible, young reader, we’ll explain.He went to buy his mother, at noon, a pound of tea,And, when the grocer weighed it out, the child observed that heTurned round to tear a Bible that on the counter lay,He had bought it for waste paper, he said that very day.He was almost out of paper to wrap his parcels in.Now the grocer could not read, and knew not what a sinIt was to tear this Holy Book and take each well-worn leafTo use for such a purpose; but when he saw the griefOf his little favorite, Willie, he kindly said, I’m sureI’ll give you the old volume if some papers you’ll procure,As much as this great book will weigh—you see it is not light,—Run home and see what you can find, and bring them before night.The boy was very poor, indeed, but he was good and kind,And when he went among his friends, it was not hard to findThose who approved of Willie’s care of God’s most Holy Word,They gladly gave the papers when the story they had heard.An hour had scarcely passed, when the grocer saw, with pleasure,The little boy returning to claim the promised treasure.He placed the Bible in one scale, the papers in the other.Oh, thank you, sir! ’tis mine! he cried, and ran to tell his mother.How happy was that mother; God’s Word was her delightA light unto her path by day,—a guiding star at night;She raised her heart in thankfulness, that he had learned to prizeHis precious Bible, and had gained a treasure in the skies.

He went to buy his mother, at noon, a pound of tea,And, when the grocer weighed it out, the child observed that heTurned round to tear a Bible that on the counter lay,He had bought it for waste paper, he said that very day.

He was almost out of paper to wrap his parcels in.Now the grocer could not read, and knew not what a sinIt was to tear this Holy Book and take each well-worn leafTo use for such a purpose; but when he saw the grief

Of his little favorite, Willie, he kindly said, I’m sureI’ll give you the old volume if some papers you’ll procure,As much as this great book will weigh—you see it is not light,—Run home and see what you can find, and bring them before night.

The boy was very poor, indeed, but he was good and kind,And when he went among his friends, it was not hard to findThose who approved of Willie’s care of God’s most Holy Word,They gladly gave the papers when the story they had heard.

An hour had scarcely passed, when the grocer saw, with pleasure,The little boy returning to claim the promised treasure.He placed the Bible in one scale, the papers in the other.Oh, thank you, sir! ’tis mine! he cried, and ran to tell his mother.

How happy was that mother; God’s Word was her delightA light unto her path by day,—a guiding star at night;She raised her heart in thankfulness, that he had learned to prizeHis precious Bible, and had gained a treasure in the skies.

Sparethe dear little birds, don’t kill them I pray!But listen, and hear their sweet song;To spoil all our music, and shoot them to-day,Oh, sportsmen, you know ’twould be wrong!At dawn of the day, they are warbling away,But they never have done the least harm;The summer’s most gone, they’ve a short time to stay—They will soon fly away from our farm.To the bright sunny South, they then will repair,In autumn they flock off together;Our Father in Heaven with kind, watchful care,Then guides them in search of warm weather.I’m sure ’twill displease Him, if merely for sportYou shoot these sweet songsters to-day;Remember, kind sportsmen, their life is but short;Oh, spare them, in pity, I pray!

Sparethe dear little birds, don’t kill them I pray!But listen, and hear their sweet song;To spoil all our music, and shoot them to-day,Oh, sportsmen, you know ’twould be wrong!

At dawn of the day, they are warbling away,But they never have done the least harm;The summer’s most gone, they’ve a short time to stay—They will soon fly away from our farm.

To the bright sunny South, they then will repair,In autumn they flock off together;Our Father in Heaven with kind, watchful care,Then guides them in search of warm weather.

I’m sure ’twill displease Him, if merely for sportYou shoot these sweet songsters to-day;Remember, kind sportsmen, their life is but short;Oh, spare them, in pity, I pray!

Jane, my dear,How can you beCross to littleEmily!When she’s suchA darling child;Always gentle,Meek and mild.

Jane, my dear,How can you beCross to littleEmily!

When she’s suchA darling child;Always gentle,Meek and mild.

See Frontispiece and other views of Trenton Falls.

CascadesroaringIn their might,—Waters pouringFrom the height,—Wildly boundingOn their way,—Loud resounding,Seem to say,—See us toiling,As we glide;—Hear us boiling,Far and wide.We are living,Not in vain,—We are givingBack againPlenteous rain-dropsTo the sun,As it cheers usWhile we run.Rising, leaping,Over hills,—We are keepingYonder millsSwiftly goingRound and round;Onward flowing,We are found.Useful ever,As we go;Silent never.Do you knowWe are teachingYou to-day;Hear our preaching.Children, stay!Learn a lessonOf the river;Yield your heartsTo God, their giver.Ever raisingGrateful praise,Loving, serving,All your days.

CascadesroaringIn their might,—Waters pouringFrom the height,—

Wildly boundingOn their way,—Loud resounding,Seem to say,—

See us toiling,As we glide;—Hear us boiling,Far and wide.

We are living,Not in vain,—We are givingBack again

Plenteous rain-dropsTo the sun,As it cheers usWhile we run.

Rising, leaping,Over hills,—We are keepingYonder mills

Swiftly goingRound and round;Onward flowing,We are found.

Useful ever,As we go;Silent never.Do you know

We are teachingYou to-day;Hear our preaching.Children, stay!

Learn a lessonOf the river;Yield your heartsTo God, their giver.

Ever raisingGrateful praise,Loving, serving,All your days.

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