SONGS FOR THE

  

He never saw his mother’s face,
Nor little sister’s sweet blue eye ;
He cannot play at ball or top,
Nor hoop can drive, nor kite can fly.

He cannot go to school and learn,
No pretty books can Johnny read ;
Oh, then, be kind to Johnny Bell,
For his is a sad lot indeed.

He’ll sing to you some little song,
His voice is very clear and sweet; —
And on his little flute he plays,
To please the children in the street.
He’s very gentle, kind, and mild, |
Blind Johnny all the children love;
He’s in the holy keeping, too, |
Of the good God who reigns above.

 

  
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
 

MY LITTLE BODY.
My little body’s formed by God—
’"T is made of flesh and blood ;

The slender. bones are placed within,
And over all is laid the skin.

My little body ’s very weak—
A fall or blow my bones might break ;
The water soon might stop my breath,
The fire might close my eyes in death.