244 SONGS FOR THE

 

Fainter now, and fainter still,
Breaks the ery upon the ear ;

But the mother’s heart is steel,
She unmoved that cry can hear.

Send, O send the Bible there,
Let its precepts reach the heart ;
She may then her children spare—

Act the mother’s tender part.
Hastings’ “ Nursery Songs.”

  

THE HAPPY CHILD.

Happy, happy child am I,

On a mother’s arms to lie,

Or to rest my weary head

On a soft and downy bed,
Beneath her gentle eye ; |
While she kneels beside me there,
Teaching me a holy prayer.

But the little heathen child,
Naked, ignorant, and wild,
Has no home or downy bed,
Where to rest his aching head,
Or mother’s arms to shield.

She no prayer of love can say—
Heathen mothers do not pray.