o | The Baldwin Library University RmB 5 Florida : : ] } — “What would our pussy say, If she could only talk ?” Page 68, %:! A g x == | _ S 1 | xe WSS SLES e iS a aay ros ec » ee ZX \% a2 x : 7 a US } Nt Ly Nt th | | AN IGRILCT SOCIETY "AMERICAN WE WHO RIC, oy ie Regard for the interests of little readers throughout the country, has induced the own- ers of copy-rights to allow the insertion of sev- eral favorite songs in this collection. Those from “Hastings’ Nursery Songs,” published by M. W. Dodd, New York, are in that work set to music for the young. Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1852, by Mary O. Warp, in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court for the Southern District of New York. Right of publishing transferred to the American Tract Society The Little Ones at Home, WELCOME. WE LcomE, welcome, little stranger, To this busy world of care ; Nothing can thy peace endanger, Nothing now thy steps ensnare. Mother’s heart is filled with pleasure, All her feelings are awake ; Gladly would she, little treasure, All thy pains and sufferings take. Ls caieeseeeneraseniiiaaatiaetani tang CL SONGS FOR THE Mayest thou, if designed by heaven Future days and years to see, Soothe her, make her passage even ; Let her heart rejoice in thee. May her anxious cares and labors Be repaid by filial love ; And thy soul be crowned with favors From the boundless source above. Taylor. BABY, SLEEP. Sleep, baby, sleep, No longer weep ; Near thee sits thy little brother, Close beside thee is thy mother : Sleep, baby, sleep. Sleep, baby, sleep, No longer weep ; Israel’s Shepherd watches o’er thee, No rude danger lies before thee: Sleep, baby, sleep. Sleep, baby, sleep, No longer weep ; Germ of beauty, bud and blossom, Rest upon thy Saviour’s bosom : "Bleep, baby, sleep. x eee ree ee Sr eeeeeneeeereneciennanaapntanceeneegptetanieaenetcteeee tenet LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 9 ea LLL LLCO Sleep, baby, sleep, No longer weep ; Life has many a raging billow— Rest upon thy downy pillow: Sleep, baby, sleep. Hastings’ “‘ Nursery Songs.” HUSHABY. Hushaby, hushaby, Baby, do not weep ; On thy downy pillow lie, Softly, softly sleep. Hushaby, hushaby, Now thine eyelids close ; While thy mother sitting by, Watches thy repose. Hushaby, hushaby, Think of no alarm ; Angel spirits round thee fly, Guarding thee from harm. Hushaby, hushaby, Slumber sweet be given ; On thy downy pillow lie, Precious gift from heaven. Hastings’ ‘‘ Nursery Songs.” i eeeaenieeeaereieninln TA SONGS FOR THE WM Mit hi LU | ~ BABY. | “What is this pretty little thing, | That nurse so carefully doth bring, | And round its head a blanket fling? A baby! “ Oh dear, how very soft its cheek ; Why nurse, I cannot make it speak, And it can’t walk, it is so weak. A baby! “Oh, I’m afraid that it will die ; Why can’t it eat as well as I, And jump, and talk? Do let it try. Poor baby!” LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 11 “Why, you were once a baby too, And could not jump as now you do, But good mamma took care of you, Like baby. “ And then she taught your little feet, To pat along the carpet neat, And called papa to come and meet His baby. “OQ, dear mamma, to take such care, And no kind pains and trouble spare To feed and nurse you when you were A baby.” Taylor. OH, HARK! THE BABY CRIES. Oh, hark! Oh, hark! the baby cries, As on his little bed he lies: He looks around, and mother’s gone, And he don’t like to be alone. But mother is coming, Oh see how she’s running, To learn what the matter can be; But she soon will find out What it is all about ; And how very sorry is she. 12 SONGS FOR THE Fi once annaieeneremnnn My little babe must never fret, | And put himself in such a pet; But play with his fingers and his toes, And lie very still when mother goes. Now sister is coming, I hear her running To see what the matter can be ; She has heard the loud cries, And away how she flies, For a dear loving sister is she. Our little boy must never fret, And put himself in such a pet, But give us kisses, one, two, three: | Here, come! I’ll take you on my knee. | | Now see your dear mother, | And sister and brother, | Who always are loving and true ; | And when they ’re away, | Lie still, laugh, and play, They ‘Il soon come again back to you. LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 13 | i * . | | 4 » * | | — Sy | = ~ Songs. MY LITTLE BROTHER. » Little brother, darling boy, You are very dear to me; I am happy—full of joy, When your smiling face I see. How I wish that you could speak, And could know the words I say ; Pretty stories I would seek, To amuse you every day : a te en, SONGS FOR THE All about the honey-bees, Flying past us in the sun ; Birds that sing among the trees, Lambs that in the meadows rull. Jl be very kind to you, Never strike or make you cry, As some naughty children do, Quite forgetting God is nigh. Shake your rattle—here it is— Listen to its merry noise; . And when you are tired of this, IT will bring you other toys. Mary Lundie Duncan. —_————— GOOD BOY. When little Ned was sent to bed, He always acted right 5 He kissed mamma and then papa, And wished them both good-night. He made no noise, like naughty boys; But, glad I am to say; Directly went when he was sent, Undressed, and knelt to pray: LITTLE ONES AT HOME. | ee Wee fWelisssiss) Wits wl SWEETLY SLEEP. Sleep, my baby—sleep, my boy, Rest your little weary head ; Tis your mother rocks her boy In his little cradle bed. Lullaby, sweet lullaby! All the little birds are sleeping— Every one has gone to rest ; And my precious one is resting In his pretty cradle nest. Lullaby, sweet lullaby! 16 SONGS FOR THE ' Sleep, Oh sleep, my darling boy— Wake, to-morrow, fresh and strong ; ’Tis thy mother sits beside thee, Singing thee an evening song. Lullaby, sweet lullaby ! Taylor. GOOD CHARLOTTE, “Mamma, my head,” poor Anna said, “So very badly aches; Tell sister there, I cannot bear The tiresome noise she makes.” “T’m sure,” said Charlotte, “if I’d known, Dear sister, you were ill, I would have read, or drawn, instead, And have remained quite still.” DO RIGHT. I love to do right, And I love the truth; And I'll always love them, While in my youth. And when I grow old, And when I grow gray, I will love them still, Depart who may. v 7) ip} WALT » a a i, fp 4 YY, Uy WH ii hh q Mf. 7 A” : V = ia “sr / Yip os 4 4 444 Reames 25 7 Ye "77 / Sth sp | oy a — aa > 2 Ks a oa f/ lh = " YY iy 7) . Se/ fa > oa Shi 7 IY, rg —_ h My wy ty 7 RU idl SS P yf tt Come, my darling, come away, Take a pretty walk to-day ; Run along, and never fear, I’ll take caresof baby dear ; Up and down with little feet, That’s the way to walk, my sweet. Now you are so very near, Soon you’ll get to mother dear ; There, she comes along at last: Here’s my finger, hold it fast. Now, one pretty little kiss, After such a walk as this. Taylor. SONGS FOR THE DRESSED OR UNDRESSED. When children are naughty, and will not be dressed, Pray what do you think is the way? Why, often I really think it is best To keep them in night-clothes all day. But then they can have no breakfast to eat, Nor walk with their mother or aunt; At dinner they’ll neither have pudding nor meat, Nor any thing else that they want. Then who would be naughty, and sit all the day In night-clothes not fit to be seen? And pray, who would lose their dinner and play For not being dressed neat and clean? LITTLE STAR. Good-night, little star ; I will go to my bed, And leave you to burn, While I lay down my head On my pillow to sleep, Till the morning light ; When you will be fading, And I shall be bright. LITTLE ONES AT HOME. LITTLE DOG. I'll nevor hurt a little dog, But stroke and pat his head ; I like to see him wag his tail, I like to see him fed. Then I will never whip my dog, Nor will I give him pain ; Poor fellow, I will give him food, And he’ll love me again. SONGS FOR THE GOOD-NIGHT. Baby, baby, lay your head On your pretty little bed ; Shut your eye-peeps, now the day And the light are gone away ; All the clothes are tucked in tight, Little baby dear, good-night. | MORNING. Baby, baby, ope your eye, For the sun is in the sky, And he’s peeping once again Through the:clear, bright window-pane ; Little baby, do not keep _ Any longer fast asleep. \ POOR ROBIN. One winter’s day the wind blew high, And fast came down the snow ; A robin, much too weak too fly, Hopped in the yard below. . Jane threw him crumbs, and from that day, Her welcome guest he’s been ; And often when the children play, Sweet little Bob is seen. LITTLE ONES AT HOME. THE CHILD IN THE MORNING. Now I wake and ope my eyes, For the sun is in the skies ; He has left his kingly bed, Clouds of gold and rosy red, And the earth is full of light Beaming from his eyes so bright. Little eyes must open too, Little folks have work to do: I must dress me quick and neat, Nice and clean from head to feet ; Good cold water must not spare, Brush my teeth and comb my hair ; Then kneel down and slowly say— Thinking not of work or play, But with fixed and earnest thought— That dear prayer our Saviour taught ; Then think softly how to-day I the Saviour can obey ; How God’s name can hallowed be, And his will be done by me. I must be a Christian child, Gentle, patient, meek, and mild ; Must be honest, simple, true, In my words and actions too. ieee SONGS FOR THE I must cheerfully obey, Giving up my will and way; Must not always thinking be, What is pleasantest to me; But must try kind things to do, And make others happy too. If a playmate treats me ill, I must be forgiving still ; I must learn my lessons well, Not my schoolmates to excel, But because my heart’s delight is in doing what is right. And in all I do and say, In my lessons and my-play, Must remember God can view All I think and all I do; Glad that he can know I ¢ry, Glad that children such as I, In our feeble ways, and small, Can serve Him who loves us all. LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 23 BIRDSNEST. A little bird built a warm nest in a tree, And laid some blue eggs in it, one, two, and three, And then very glad and delighted was she. And after a while, but how long I can’t tell, The little ones crept, one by one, from the shell, And their mother was pleased, for she loved them all well. She spread her soft wings o’er them all the day long To warm them and guard them, her love was so strong ; And her mate sat beside her, and sung her a song. One day the young birds were all crying for food, So off flew their mother away from her brood ; And up came some boys who were wicked and rude. They pulled the warm nest down away from the tree, The little ones cried, but they could not get free ; So at last they all died away, one, two, and three. When back to the nest the poor mother did fly, Oh, then she set up a most piteous cry ; And she mourned a long while, then lay alee to die. ee ae cn A ee ee EESAeES een LEER LLL OL LL a ne en em x sect tH : A oe SVR Ra NE aS | aM | r ‘gia! il NN i mM , = ty o ae NN — * Ay, Ne aN HN mie ‘ \\ nN J RAN \ MY BROTHER. Who often with me kindly played, And all my little playthings made, My kite and ball—though still unpaid? My brother. Who made a sled when winter came, With little ropes to draw the same, And on its sides carved out my name? My brother. And who was it that taught to me The way to read my A, B, C, And marked them on the slate for me? My brother. LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 25 Songs. Who gathered apples from the tree, Chestnuts and walnuts too, forme; _ Who cheerful did all this? but thee, , My brother. Then may I ever grateful be For all thy kindness shown to me, And ne’er withdraw my love from thee, My brother. Taylor. A GOOD-NIGHT SONG. To bed, to bed, my curly head, To bed, and sleep so sweetly ; Merry and bright, with the morning light Be up, and dressed so neatly. Then for a walk, and a pleasant talk About the birds and flowers ; And all the day, in work and play, We'll pass the happy hours. And then to bed, to rest the head, And sleep until the morrow : May every day thus glide away, Without a shade of sorrow. THE FLY. 'T was God that made the little fly ; But if you pinch it, it will die. 3 eee SONGS FOR THE neice eset My mother tells me, God has said We must not hurt what God has made ; For God is very kind and good, And gives e’en little flies their food ; And he loves every little child, Who is kind-hearted, good, and mild. THE BUTTERFLY. The butterfly, an idle thing, Nor honey makes, nor yet can sing, Like busy bee, and bird ; | Nor does it, like the prudent ant, Lay up the grain for times of want— A wise and cautious hoard. My youth is but a summer’s day ; Then like the bee and ant, Ill lay A store of learning by ; And while from flower to flower I rove, My stock of wisdom I'll improve, Nor be a butterfly. LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 27 Wt 1 r nil i CRADLE HYMN. Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber ; Holy angels guard thy bed ; Heavenly blessings without number, Gently falling on thy head. Sleep, my babe, thy food and raiment, House and home, thy friends provide ; All without thy care, or payment, All thy wants are well supplied. SONGS FOR THE cies eaitacmsaiapansincieinenaiiain Soft and easy is thy cradle ; Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay, When his birthplace was a stable, And his softest bed was hay. Blessed babe! what glorious features, Spotless, fair, divinely bright! Must he dwell with brutal creatures? How could angels bear the sight? Was there nothing but a manger, Cursed sinners could afford To receive the heavenly stranger ? Did they thus affront the Lord? Soft, my child, I did not chide thee, Though my song might sound too hard ; 'Tis thy mother sits bevide thee, And her arms shall be thy guard. Yet to read the shameful story, How the Jews abused their King— How they served the Lord of glory, Makes me angry while I sing. See the kinder shepherds round him, Telling wonders from the sky ; Where they sought him, there they found With his virgin mother by. [him, LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 29 ss cinincsieeeteianieamnnaetaumunsinacanenctcemaanenniccalanceliteiah See the lovely babe a dressing ; Lovely infant, how he smiled : When he wept, the mother’s blessing Soothed and hushed the holy Child. Lo, he slumbers in the manger, Where the horned oxen fed! Peace, my darling, here’s no danger, There’s no oxen near thy bed. Twas to save thee, child, from dying, Save my dear from burning flame, Bitter groans and endless crying, — That thy blest Redeemer came. May’st thou live to know and fear hin, Trust and love him all thy days ; Then go dwell for ever near him, See his face and sing his praise. I could give thee thousand kisses, Hoping what I most desire ; Not a mother’s fondest wishes Can to greater joys aspire. Dr. Watts. THE PIGEON. Coo! coo! pretty pigeon, all day, Coo! coo! to your children and mate ; You seem in your soft note to say, That you never knew anger or hate. 30 SONGS FOR THE Tin elisa lteaniainlinilaeninmnainiincaelintinieenseninaltlth And thus little children should try To be civil, and patient, and kind ; And not to be pettish, and cry, | When they cannot have all to their mind. ANN. “Mother, how can flowers grow ?” Said little Ann, one day ; “The fields are covered o’er with snow — When will it go away?” MOTHER. “A few months hence, dear Ann will view, In the garden now so white, The yellow cowslip, violet blue, And daffodil so bright.” THE BABY-JUMPER. Now, little Georgie, jump up high ; Never mind, Georgie, mother is by : Crow and caper, caper and crow, There, little baby, there you go, Up to the ceiling, down to the ground, Upwards and downwards, round and round ; Then jump, little Georgie, and mother shall sing, While the gay, merry bells go ting-a-ling-ling. A iy ft i at (A Ald gas ALU Wy Pra7% iA ee ie “©, dear mamma, where are you gone? Come, see the baby stand alone; And only think—indeed, ’tis truth— I can just feel a little tooth. “Look at his pretty shining hajr, His cheeks so red, his skin so fair ; His curly ringlets, just like flax ; His little bosom, just like wax. “OQ, how I long till he can walk, And then Ill long till he can talk, And then I’ll long till he can play ! od | 1 ti ' i : : Ht . ni y \\ i im J , aN f | ei i ‘ : i eS (1 | ¥ ! i fy \ : | | i i : fh , hit | $A Y N ei ee RASS HAN ences \ . yy ‘ > i eZ GF; = ffs ° (f, WY} 4 C7, wy, = Oo THA 7 When we have said our tasks each day. YYZ Wy iY {ff YL 1, GY tOULL S beseech eae — 32 SONGS FOR THE “T think he’s growing very wise ; Now; don’t you think so?” Julia cries: Then to the cradle off she ran, To kiss the little baby-man. HOW I LOVE. How I love my tender mother, How I love my father dear ; How I love my little brother, And my gentle sister here: They are all both kind and true, And they dearly love me too. Be my neighbor proud or lowly, He shall my affection share ; Be he sinful, be he holy, He may claim my earnest prayer : Let me not unfeeling prove, Nor myself too dearly love. But of all affection given, _ God on high demands the most ; God the Father in the heaven, God the Son, and Holy Ghost : Three in one, and One in three, Be thou all in all to me. Hastings’ ‘* Nursery Songs.” ttyl Hai ant in i i ie . ‘l 4 i {i 4 is bi Ne | . ul a ae } th ==> —— PS ee 2s oe ——— AWNIV.S- KINDNESS TO ANIMALS. I like little pussy, her coat is so warm, And if I don’t hurt her, she’ll do me no harm ; So I'll not pull her tail, nor drive her away, But pussy and I very gently will play : She shall sit by my side, and I’ll give her some food. And she’ll love me, because I am gentle and good. I'll pat little pussy, — then she will purr, And thus show her thanks for my kindness to her ; ee renrme e erp TT 34 SONGS FOR THE Ill not pinch her ears, nor tread on her paw, Lest I should provoke her to use her sharp claw ; I never will vex her, nor make her displeased, For pussy don’t like to be worried and teased. Taylor. THE SLEIGH-RIDE. Jingle, jingle, go the bells ; A right good time have we, Over the valleys and over the hills, Dear grandmamma to see. The day is bright, and away we go As swift as swift can be, Over the smoothly trodden snow, Dear grandmamma to see. And look, do look, for there she stands, Aunt Mary by her side, To welcome us with outstretched hands After our pleasant ride. And there is George and Carlo too, For they heard the tell-tale bells, As over the shining road ‘we flew, And down the slippery hills. LITTLE ONES AT HOME. CHERRIES ARE RIPE. Cherries are ripe, Cherries are ripe, O give the baby one ; Cherries are ripe, Cherries are ripe, But baby shall have none: Babies are too young to choose, Cherries are too sour to use ; But by and by, Made in a pie, No one will them refuse. SONGS FOR THE Up in the tree Robin I see, Picking one by one; Shaking his bill, Getting his fill, Down his throat they run: Robins want no cherry pie; Quick they eat, and off they fly ; My little child, Patient and mild, Surely will not cry. Cherries are ripe, Cherries are ripe, But we will let them fall ; Cherries are ripe, Cherries are ripe, But bad for babies small: Gladly follow mother’s will ; Be obedient, kind, and still ; Waiting a while, Delighted you’ll smile, And joyful eat your fill. Hastings’ “‘ Nursery Songs.” sccm rarest LLL | | LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 37 | | | | = r, + Swe Ce - es ea came « a a —y “aoe, 4 a Cc Ww dp . > onaew > Cam ~ = TRUSTY LEARNING TO READ. Come hither, good Trusty ; See how still you can be, For I’ve come to teach you | Your A, B, C. | Brother says you can’t learn, And father says, may be, Though you never will read, You may bark A, B, C. Now, good Trusty, attend ; | Let us show them that we Can learn, if we please, Our A, B, c, SONGS FOR THE To what little Kate said, Trusty seemed to agree: Do you think he learned much Of his A, B, C? AFFECTION. Does your head ache, little brother ? Are you sick, and are you weak? Are you sad, and tired of playing? Does it hurt you when you speak? I can’t cure you, darling brother, Cannot ease a single pain: I’ll go ask our heavenly Father, He can make you well again. ALPHABET. Come, come, my darling, I must sce, How you can say your A, B, C; . Go get your book, and come to me, And I will hear your E, F, G, When you have said your A, B, C. “A,B, C, D, EB, F, G, NL ee, Oo Q, R, S, T, U, W, Vi X, Y, Z, &—Oh dear me, I'll try to say my A, B, C.” eee EL CLL LALLA LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 39 MY LITTLE SISTER I have a little sister, She’s only two years old; But she’s a little darling, And worth her weight in gold. She often runs to kiss me, When I’m at work or play, Twining her arms about me In such a pretty way ; And then she’ll say so sweetly, Jn innocence and joy, “Tell me story, sister dear, About the little boy.” Sometimes when I am knitting, She’ll pull my needles out ; And then she’ll skip, and dance around With such a merry shout. It makes me laugh to see her, Though I’m not very glad To have her take my needles out, And make my work so bad ; But then if I would have her To see what she has done, I must be very gentle, While telling her the wrong. Fees stents SONGS FOR THE MORNING HYMN. The morning bright With rosy light Has waked me from my sleep ; Father, 1 own Thy love alone Thy little one doth keep. All through the day, I humbly pray, Be thou my guard and guide ; My sins forgive, And let me live, Blest Jesus, near thy side. O make thy rest Within my breast, Great Spirit of all grace ; Make me like thee, Then I shall be Prepared to see thy face. THE GOLDEN RULE. To do to others as I would That they should do to me, Will make me honest, kind, and good, As children ought to be. LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 41 nna Whether I am at home, or school, Or walking out abroad, I never should forget this rule Of Jesus Christ, our Lord. THE SILLY FLY. O you little silly fly, -There’s a spider watching nigh ; You will soon be in his snare, Buzzing without heed or care. There, the little fly is caught By the spider, quick as thought ; Lo, he binds and bites the fly: Silly creature, you must die. Careless children, like the fly, Do not think when danger’s nigh: Mind not what they do or say, Thus becoming Satan’s prey. Children thus who learn to sin, Carelessly at first begin ; By the sin they soon are bound, Satan’s prey they thus are found. Let us always watchful be, Pray from sin to be set free ; Then, though Satan’s snares are near, God will keep us in his fear. 4* Child’s Book of Poetry. O look at my kite, Almost out of sight ; How pretty it flies, Right up to the skies. Pretty kite, pretty kite, Almost out of sight, => - Pray, what do you spy a m | In the bright blue sky? John White flew his kite one very windy day, Whena gale broke the tail, and it soon flew away- And while he sat crying and sighing and sad, | Charley Gray came that way, good-natured | Jad. | “Don'tery, wipe your eye,” said he, “little Jack , || Stay here, never fear, and Ill soon bring it back.’ Up the tree climbed he, and brought the kite | down ; “Many thanks, many thanks,” said dear little | John. LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 43 THE SNOW. The clouds look sad, And mother is glad, For it is going to snow; And her dear boy Will dance with joy, When he on his sled can go. “O mother, say, Will it snow to-day ?” Has frequently been his cry ; “T cannot tell, But I think it will,” Has been the quick reply. But look, now look, O quick, drop your book! The snow has now come at last ; So soft and white, So pretty and light, It is falling thick and fast. Now Bennie boy Is filled with joy, He runs for his boots and sled ; Now get his coat And tie up his throat, And put a cap on his head. SONGS FOR THE alanine TR Then o’er the snow How fast he ’ll go, Giving his sisters a ride ; They ‘ll run about, And caper and shout, And down the hill they will slide. THE MEDDLESOME CHILD. Matilda was a pleasant child, But one bad trick she had, That e’en when all around her smiled, Oft made her friends feel sad. Sometimes she’d lift the teapot-lid, To peep at what was in it; Or tilt the kettle, if you did But turn your head a minute. As grandmamma went out one day, Her snuff-box and her specs She down upon the table lay, Forgetting Tilly’s tricks. Immediately upon her nose She placed the glasses wide, Then looking round, as I suppose, The snuff-box too she spied. eet LITTLE ONES AT HOME. So thumb and finger went to work, To move the stubborn lid ; And as she gave it quite a jerk, Much mischief then she did. The snuff came puffing in her face And eyes and nose and chin, And as she ran about for ease, The snuff got further in. She dashed the spectacles away, To wipe her tingling eyes; And there in twenty bits they lay, As grandmamma she spies. She then, while smarting with the pain, Sneezing, and sick and sore, Made many a promise to refrain From meddling any more. Now, before I run to play, I must not forget to pray To Him who kept me through the night, And woke me with the morning light. Help me, Lord, to love thee more Than I ever loved before ; In my work and in my play, Be thou with me through the day. OLA OT nad SONGS FOR THE i pellicles Te THE ROBINS. Good-morning, bonnie Annie, I’m very glad you’ve come, Bringing smiles and kisses From your pleasant home. Come and sit beside me In this little chair ; I'll tell you pretty stories, My cousin, blithe and fair. A very pretty sight This morning I did see— Four little robins Sitting on a tree. A bright red cherry One of them did pull ; It was large and ripe, And very beautiful. So he gave it to his mate, As if wishing her to see ; And then all along, To each of the three. And then they all began To peck a little piece ; Stopping to whistle, Q, how very nice. LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 47 ) ‘ \t f Pan ae ! i, ; NY) haipt Ny UE iN MAL | Hh _ A ~~ =a Ne y bi Nh ' : mn m Vu vn i And when il had eaten it, All so lovingly, They flew away again, Singing right merrily. . These little robins, That live so happily, ) Teach many lessons Sweet and dear to me. How boys can harm them I do not know, And be so cruel to them, And make them fear us so. SONGS FOR THE I knew a robin once Who was so very tame, That in at the window Every day he came. From out of our hands His crumbs he would eat, And sing us a song On the window-seat. When spring came again, He flew to the tree, And all the long summer With the rest was free. But he never forgot His snug winter nest, Nor to whistle a song For those he loved best. I will not fear, For God is near, Through the dark night, As in the light ; And while I sleep, Safe watch will keep, Why should I fear, - When God is near? sei LT OLED A LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 49 Dosis on ai MY LITTLE PONY. Hop, hop, hop, nimble as a top, Over hill and valley bounding, With your clinking hoofs resounding : Hop, hop, hop, nimble as a top. Whoa! whoa! whoa! how like fun you go: Stop, you nag, I tell you, tell you; If you don’t, I’ll surely sell you. Whoa! whoa! whoa! how like fun you go: Spare, spare, spare ; sure enough, we’re there ; Very well, my little pony ; Safe’s our jaunt, though rough and stony : Spare, spare, spare; sure enough we’re there. ongs. 5 50 SONGS FOR THE Here, here, here ; yes, my pony dear: | Now with hay and oats I'll treat you, | ~ And with smiles will ever greet you, Pony dear, yes, my pony dear. ates WHAT I LIVE FOR. I’m not made for idle play, Like the butterfly, all day ; Shameful would it be to grow Like a dunce, and nothing know: I must learn to read, and look Often in God’s holy book. Busy I must be, and do What is right and useful too ; What my parents, fond and kind, Bid me, I will gladly mind ; ~ Never cause them grief and pain, Nor will disobey again. But to God I still will pray, “Take my wicked heart away ;” He from sin can make me free, For the Saviour died for me. O how happy, life to spend With the Saviour for my friend. ee s ee ee CC CC CC Ct i te LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 51 THE COW. Thank you, pretty cow, that made Pleasant milk to soak my bread, Every day and every night, Warm and fresh, and sweet and white. Do not chew the hemlock rank, Growing on the weedy bank ; But the yellow cowslip eat, That will make it very sweet. Where the bubbling water flows, Where the grass is fresh and fine, | Where the purple violet grows, Pretty cow, go there and dine. Se een a 52 SONGS FOR THE GOOD MOOLLY COW. Come, supper is ready, Come, boys and girls, now ; For here is fresh milk From the good moolly cow. Have done with your fife And your row-de-dow-dow, And take this good milk From the good moolly cow. Whoever is fretting Must clear up his brow, Or he’ll have no milk From the good moolly cow. And here is Miss Pussy, She means by “mee-ow,” Give me, too, some milk From the good moolly cow. When children are hungry, | O who can tell how They love the fresh milk From the good moolly cow. So when you meet moolly, Please say, with a bow, “Thank you for your milk, Mrs. Good Moolly Cow.” Bi senieenmimnipnmemmemmnmnrenneeianaenar nt A THOUGHTLESS MAN. There came to my window, One morning in spring, A sweet little robin, She came there to sing ; And the tune that she sung Was prettier far Than ever I heard On the flute or guitar. She raised her light wings To soar far away, Then resting a moment, Seemed sweetly to say, “Q happy, how happy This world seems to be Awake, little girl, And be happy with me.” But just as she finished Her beautiful song, A thoughtless young man With a gun came along. He killed and he carried My sweet bird away, And she no more will sing At the dawn of the day. o* Child’s Book of Poetry. 54 SONGS FOR THE ee LLL LD THE SLED-RIDE. Down, down the hill how swift I go, Over the ice and over the snow ; A horse or cart I do not fear, For past them both my sled I steer. Hurrah, my boy, I’m going down, While you toil up; but never frown: The far hill-top you soon will gain, And then, with all your might and main, You'll dash by me; while, full of glee, I'll up again, to dash by thee: So on we glide—O life of joy ; What pleasure has the little boy! GOOD THOUGHTS. I must not speak a naughty word, I must not tell a lie; I must not contradict, and make My little sister cry. And if I have a piece of cake, When I with children play, I must not eat it all myself, But give a part away. From “ My Little Hymn-Book.” oS LITTLE BOZ. I have a little dog, With long white flowing curls And bright black sparkling eyes, And he loves little girls. He has fawn-colored ears, And very nice clean toes ; He’s a sensible dog, You can tell by his nose. He’ll never snarl or bite, His temper is so mild, And dearly loves to play With every little child. 56 SONGS FOR THE einen eT And every morning early, This funny little pup Says, “ Bow-wow, little Mary, Tis time that you were up.” THE TORN DOLL. Caty, my dear, Come here, come here ; I’ve a short tale for you to hear. Upon the floor, Behind the door, This morn I found a Dolly poor. Once she was new, And pretty too, With cloak and hat, and frock and shoe. But Oh, dear me, A sight to see Has that same Dolly come to be. Her clothes all worn, And soiled and torn ; Alas, alas, she looks forlorn. I wonder who Has made her s0 ; Why, Caty dear, can it be you? a samhisiistimneiigtaeninaiinaitenimniannsianin eeu Eo Ce ' eu Ohh) : ‘AEs a ae { He eet io Y ROBIN. O, poor little robin, so cold and so wet, Say, what are you doing to-day? The winter has come, and now what will you eat, And where are you going to stay? Your nest is so open, so cold, and so poor, You never can live there again ; O come, pretty robin, come into our door, And hide from the snow and the rain. We've clean beds to sleep on, and water to drink, And things very nice for your food ; Come, come, pretty robin, O how can you think To fly off again in the wood? nn ee eeUE nn nENEIDNRIRRAIEREISREISEEERRERRRRIRRNIEE ce . 58 SONGS FOR THE © The bird will not listen; but children young, That are hungry, or cold, or wet, May share in my cottage, and join in my song, And they shall have plenty to eat. Hastings’ “‘ Nursery Songs.” LITTLE THINGS. Little drops of water, Little grains of sand, Make the mighty ocean, And the pleasant land. Thus the little minutes, Humble though they be, Make the mighty ages Of eternity. Thus our little errors Lead the soul away From the path of virtue, Off in sin to stray. Little deeds of kindness, Little words of love, Make our earth an Eden, Like the heaven above. LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 59 yO a & ff 5, N s- - ch . VaERY MARL, "hs I . “ F " y cua J : 4 (Vad AN pas D8 Zz » ~~ vj SDS /) \ ~ CH MG): Ss ay iy yi ‘ ai ~~ A cos! Bi = \ 4 i= 2 a e CLE wwe bé (7% % 9 2 Little sister, come away, And let us in the garden play, For it is a pleasant day. But the fruit we will not pick ; That would be a naughty trick, And very likely make us sick. Nor will we pluck the pretty flowers That grow about the beds and bowers, Because, you know, they are not ours. And much I hope, we always may Our very dear mamma obey, And mind whatever she may say. oe epee ee 60 SONGS FOR THE POLLY AND RUBY. My little canary I carried one day To visit Poll Parrot, So bright and so gay. Poll Parrot was glad To see my Canary, And she said, “ Now you’ve come, We'll try to be merry. “T can’t strike a tune; But if you’ll begin, I think, without doubt, That I can join in.” So Ruby began, And sang loud and clear ; But Polly’s attempts Did sound very queer. Then said little Ruby, “My dear cousin Poll, Your efforts in singing Are nothing at all. “You can whistle and talk, As you sit and swing ; But I would advise you Neyer to sing.” SS eee ee eee Un EEE ENE AREER LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 61 DOLLY GOING TO SLEEP. | There, go to sleep, Dolly, in mother’s own lap ; I’ve put on your nightgown and neat little cap: So sleep, pretty baby, and shut up your eye; Bye-bye, little Dolly, lie still and bye-bye. head, And then make you think that my lap is your bed ; ? So hush, little dear, and be sure you don’t cry ; Bye-bye, little Dolly, lie still and bye-bye. 6 Songs. | | Now I'll lay my clean handkerchief over your 62 SONGS FOR THE = =r 7 a Ay eX a z « p I i 1 ay = * \ bude 4 6 4, 4 YA _v. ‘a ae ® {pert bp’ ‘tt eo { AN fA 4 \ é A Sy fs D , | an \ ae F, j } ‘ a ‘ i 4 7 . ry er < She “Co hee j Z 4 Mn aa ~ a\ rs ey wy AY SAS rd Fras p = en a — az | - ] a ua ~* NWO SS: ates tas ‘yy elt Win) ne RUN AND PLAY. There, run away, you little things, And skip, and jump, and play ; You have been quiet long enough, So run away, I say. John, you and Mary roll your hoops, George on a stick can ride ; And Ann with Charlotte run a race, Or any play beside. The sweet, fresh air so softly blows, So brightly shines the sun, That active limbs and rosy cheeks Will in the race be won. _—— cl LILLIA ee LT 70 SONGS FOR THE s_—_——=” A LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 85 THE RAGMAN. | Ding a ling, ding ding, | I hear the bells ring, | The ragman is at the door ; | He asks us for trash, | And gives us the cash, | And with that we can help the poor. | | So I’ll make some bags, To save all the rags | | That are scattered about on the floor ; | For mother has said, That every thread | Will help to buy food for the poor. Songs —— ~~ + | a a ee eS A el TT A SONGS FOR THE They ’re nothing to us, And it saves the muss ° To pick them up from the floor ; And we must do all, Though ever so small, That we can, to help the poor. THE ORPHAN’S SONG. I saw a little lamb to-day, It was not very old; Close by its mother’s side it lay, So soft within the fold: It felt no sorrow, pain, or fear, While such a comforter was near. Sweet little lamb, you cannot know. What blessing I have lost: Were you like me, what could you do, Amid the wintry frost? My clothes are thin, my food is poor, And I must beg from door to door. I had a mother once, like you, To keep me by her side: She cherished me and loved me too But soon, alas, she died! Now, sorrowful and full of care, I’m lone and weary everywhere. S LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 87 ———— "Tl was thus a little orphan sung, Her lonely heart to cheer ; Before she wandered very long, She found a Saviour near : He bade her seek his smiling face, And find in heaven a dwelling-place. Hastings’ ‘‘ Nursery Songs.” THE TUMBLE. © Tumble down, tumble up, never mind it, my sweet : No, no; never beat the poor floor ; 'T was your fault that you could not stand straight on your feet ; Beat yourself, if you beat any more. Oh, dear, what a noise: will a noise make it well? Will crying wash bruises away ? Suppose it should bleed a little and swell, ’T will all be gone down in a day. That’s right; be a man, and dry up your tears ; Come, smile, and I’ll give you a kiss: If you live in the world but a very few years, You must bear greater troubles than this. Taylor. SONGS FOR THE THE LARK. I hear a pretty bird, but hark! I cannot see it anywhere. Oh, it is a little lark, Singing in the morning air. Little lark, do tell me why You are singing in the sky? Other little birds at rest, Have not yet begun to sing ; Every one is in its nest, With its head behind its wing. Little lark, then tell me why You ’re so early in the sky? ‘You look no bigger than a bee, In the middle of the blue, Up above the poplar-tree ; I can hardly look at you. Little lark, do tell me why You are mounted up so high? ’T is to watch the silver star, Sinking slowly in the skies ; And beyond the mountain far, See the glorious sun arise: Little lady, this is why I am mounted up so high. LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 89 'T is to sing a merry song, To the pleasant morning light ; Why stay in my nest so long, When the sun is shining bright? Little lady, this is why I sing so early in the sky. To the little birds below, I do sing a merry tune ; And I let the ploughman know, He must come to labor soon. Little lady, this is why I am singing in the sky. Songs for Children. NEVER FORGET TO PRAY. Never, my child, forget to pray, Whate’er the business of the day: If happy dreams have blessed thy sleep, If startling fears have made thee weep, With holy thoughts begin the day, And ne’er, my child, forget to pray. Pray Him by whom the birds are fed, To give to thee thy daily bread : If wealth his bounty should bestow, ! Praise Him from whom all blessings flow : | If he who gave should take away, | O ne’er, my child, forget to pray. | SONGS FOR THE The time will come when thou wilt miss A father’s and a mother’s kiss ; And then, my child, perchance you ‘Il see Some who in prayer ne’er bend the knee : From such examples turn away, And ne'er, my child, forget to pray. Child’s Book of Poetry. THE BUD. Pretty bud, I love to see Much in you resembling me ; And from your instructive look, Learn as from a little book. I am young, and so are you, Life with us is fresh and new ; Yet fair buds oft withered lie, And the youngest children die. Riper flowers may wide expand, Win the eye and court the hand; But, like you, O may I be Graced with humble modesty. When ’t is evening, dark and chill, Close you wrap yourself from ill ; So may God my heart secure, Safe from every thing impure. tt ce Nh hac oncaeneemerereeentn tence ECE LITTLE ONES AT HOME 91 And as, when the sun is up, You expand your little cup ; So thy beams may I possess, Christ the Sun of righteousness. Child’s Book of Poetry. THE BEGGAR-BOY. A poor boy went by with his raiment all torn ; He looked, too, so dirty and very forlorn : His coat was in tatters, no shoes on his feet ; And they ached with the cold on the stones of the street. Poor boy! no kind father or mother has he ; Nor has he a nice house at home as have we: i seeehtalaeetaaeanAEII Fl lie nent cisinctniceaiiaiuninasiaitaanhatncaeatitaliaatenit 92 SONGS FOR THE iliac annaianlpanlananndesieaainanstantsineianaacianiitien He begs all the day for a morsel of bread, And perhaps sleeps at night in a comfortless shed. He has no kind friends to instruct him and ouide, And he hears what is sinful, and sees it beside: Oh, how good and how thankful I then ought to be, To the God who has given these good things to me! Child’s Book of Poetry. DAWN OF DAY. Come, arise from thy sleep, Through the window now peep ; Birds sweetly are straying, Their bright plumes displaying, At dawn of day. Let us breathe the fresh air, For the morning is fair, And the forest is ringing With merry birds singing, At dawn of day. Come along for a talk, Or a sweet morning walk, While the garden discloses Its bright blushing roses, At dawn of day. in cemeenebiliilitaeeeatamrliilnilnne LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 93 i iseleieiiendinbislimeitticindantahaitiacinipitelandianieci ti But first to our King Let us joyfully sing, And praises be paying ; 'T is good to be praying, At dawn of day. Hastings’ “‘Nursery Songs.” A, B, C. The A, B, C, Is pleasant to me, I’m learning it all the day ; Whenever I look In a printed book, I see nothing but A, B, C. Sing A, B, C, Sing A, B, C, I see nothing but A, B, C. I’m glad to know The fine little row Of letters both great and small ; The D, EH, F, G, The L, M, N, 0, P, And the X, Y, Z, and all. Sing A, B, C, Sing R, 8, T, Sing X, Y, Z, and all. SONGS FOR THE If I can fix These marks twenty-six In this little careless head, J’ll read every book, As soon as I look At the letters all over it spread. Sing A, B, C, Sing X, Y, Z, And the letters all over it spread. I now will learn Them all in turn, The big letters and the small ; For how can | spell, Or pronounce them well, Till I shall have learned them all? Sing A, B, C, Sing X, Y, Z, For I’m going to learn them all. The bees and the flies Have nice little eyes, But never can read like me ; They crawl on the book, And they seem to look, But they never know A, B, ©: LITTLE ONES AT HOME. Sanne cent ncn nm ea nt Sing A, B, C, They never can know A,B, C. Hastings’ ‘‘ Nursery Songs.” THE SPARROW. Glad to see you, little bird, T was your little chirp I heard ; What did you intend to say? “ Give me something this cold day?” That I will, and plenty too; All these crumbs I saved for you: Don’t be frightened—here’s a treat; I will wait and see you eat. Shocking tales I hear of you ; Chirp, and tell me, are they true? Robbing all the summer long ; Don’t you think it very wrong? Thomas says you steal his wheat, John complains his plums you eat, Choose the ripest for your share, Never asking whose they are. But I will not try to know What you did so long ago: There’s your breakfast, eat away ; Come and see me every day. Child’s Book of Poetry. 96 SONGS FOR THE LD THE SNOW-SHOWER. “See, mamma, the crumbs are flying Fast and thickly through the air ; On the branches they are lying, On the walks and everywhere. Oh, how glad the birds will be, When so many crumbs they see.” “No, my little girl, ’t is snowing, Nothing for the birds is here ; Very cold the air is growing, 'T is the winter of the year: Frost will nip the robins’ food, 'T will no more be sweet and good. “See the clouds the skies that cover, Tis from them the snow-flakes fall, Whitening hills and fields all over, Hanging from the fir-trees tall. Were it warm, ’t would rain; but lo, Frost has changed the rain to snow.” “Tf the robins food are needing, Oh, I hope to me they ’ll come ; T should like to see them feeding On the window of my room: I’ll divide with them my store, Much I wish I could do more.” Mary Lundie Duncan. oo ne cee COO EDL I OD oo A LITTLE ONES AT HOME. : Saree | [ f i = ‘i mat ia ah i a 0) Hil aS v ‘a i i SS 4 1 y ree ee | 3 Co ' AMET ni i THE LITTLE GIRL THAT - COULD NOT READ. I don’t know my letters, and what shall I do? For I’ve got a nice book, but I can’t read it through ; O dear, how I wish that my letters I knew. I think I had better begin them to-day, Tig go like a dunce to be always at play: Mamma, if you please, will you teach me great A, And then B and ©, as they stand in the row, One after another, as far as they go? For then I can read my. new story, you know. ongs. A OO ee Ae ————— ee cena a 98 SONGS FOR THE Ts easeenlasinmanipiiinnannncat sce So do, mamma, tell me at once, and you'll see | What a good, very good little child I shall be, To try and remember my A, B, C, D. LA OOO Taylor. THE BLIND BOY. “Dear Mary,” said the poor blind boy, “That little bird sings very long ; Say, do you see him in his joy, And is he pretty as his song ae “Yes, Edward, yes,” replied the maid, “J see the bird on yonder tree e The poor boy sighed, and gently said, “Sister, I wish that | could see. “The flowers, you say, are very fair, And bright green leaves are on the trees, And pretty birds are singing there— How beautiful for one who sees. “Yet I the fragrant flowers can smell, And I can feel the green leaf’s shade, And I can hear the notes that swell From those dear birds that God has made. “So, sister, God to me is kind, Though sight to me he has not given ; But tell me, are there any blind Among the children up in heaven? pan jets nny reer LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 99 ~ > yy" eS ae — So 7 Come, come, mister peacock, you must not be proud, Although you can boast such a train ; For many a bird far more highly endowed Is not half so conceited and vain. Let me tell you, gay bird, that a. suit of fine clothes Is a sorry distinction at most, And seldom much valued, excepting by those Who such graces only can boast. 100 SONG spire, Than all your fine proud, See me, I am Who loves THE LITTLE BOY. s FOR THE Pr een nanan ae The nightingale certainly wears @ plain coat, But she cheers and delights with her song ; While you, though so vain, cannot utter a note To please by the use of your tongue. The hawk cannot boast of a plumage 0 gay; But piercing and clear is her eye ; And while you are strutting about all the day, She gallantly soars in the sky. The dove may be clad in a plainer attire, But she is not so selfish and cold ; And her love and affection more pleasure in- purple and gold. So you see, mister peacock, you must not be Although you can boast such a train ; For many @ pird is more highly endowed, And not half so conceited and vain. a little boy, to go to school ; And though I am not very old, I'll prove | am no fool. LITTLE ONES AT HOME. icceetiaennacihietettealiainan TDD DA For I can count one, two, three, four, Say one and two make three ; Take one away, then two remain, As you may plainly see. Twice one are two, twice two are four, And six is three times two ; Twice four are eight, twice five are ten, And more than this I do: For I have learned some little songs About the dog and cat; — And sing them very sweetly too, And to beat time I pat. I know that A does stand for Ape, For Apple, and for Al; That B does for a Bottle stand, A Baker, and a Ball. C stands for Cake and Cooper too, D for my pretty Dog ; E Eagle is, our country’s arms, And F it stands for Frog. I know there are two sorts of things: One sees, and feels, and loves ; The other only stands stock still, Nor hears, nor 008, nor moves. 102 ce SONGS FOR THE But better still, I learn that God Made all things that I see ; He made the earth, he made the sky, And he made you and me. I WILL BE GOOD TO-DAY. I will be good, dear mother,” [ heard a sweet child say; _ “JT will be good; now watch me— I will be good all day.” She lifted up her bright young eyes, With a soft and pleasing smile ; Then a mother’s kiss was on her lips, So pure and free from ouile. And when night came, that little one, In kneeling down to pray, Said, in a soft and whispering tone, “ Have I been good to-day ?” Oh, many, many bitter tears T would save us, did we say, Like that dear child, with earnest heart, «T will be good to-day.” The Child’s Paper. ee ——— LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 103 | Tn ee sasueecnenige utd. Sheth 7 ii j fay Wii ji A ( if Wi, Y i / hdd, y yj |W i sg =~ | | | | | | | ; o | THE SQUIRREL. | Oh, there’s the squirrel perched aloft, | That active little rover ; | See how he whisks his bushy tail, | Which shadows him all over. | | Now view him seated on the bough, To crack his nuts at ease, While blackbirds sing, and stockdoves coo, Amid the neighboring trees. His merry sparkling eye ; In yonder hazel by the brook, With cunning glance he casts around Rich clusters he can spy. | SONGS FOR THE ED And then he flies mtich more alert Than butiarfly or bee ; No lamb or kid is half so light, So swift of foot as he. WILLIE LOVES THE COUNTRY Willie loves the country, And pleased is he to go, When wintry storms are over, And cold winds cease to blow, And with his dear papa Trim up the shrubs and vines ; Rejoiced that spring has come, And the warm sun brightly shines. He loves the clear blue sky, And flowers of beauty wild ; To see the grazing cow, And lambs that look so mild. He loves to go among The fresh, sweet-scented hay, ‘And turn it o’er and o’er, Before it goes away. When evening dusk draws on, Then does this little boy Run out to gather eggs, With fresh delight and joy. LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 105 And thus he spends his time In youthful work or play ; Pleased when his lessons learned, And happy all the day. s(t i | zag aie lt AR ty i Vii ‘i \S : } 4A a N EN C 4 LpeAN\\\ Y i] i (} Hf y itn SY i} Hy NPA iat, THES Wii YA bi Sy Wy qh 1 Stk TLD | TT '/, 77 “4 1 aN irri —— WY i lg Xn fy} = Crm OA ~ L T ig iin a ae As y Ue OO 7) Ae Oe): zee AN") Hii gay MT TW | Se PPM tas, \\ / / Ahi MH Vi i \ F « YA ‘Uy \ / sz~— THE SNOW-BIRD’S SONG. The ground was all covered with snow one day, And two little sisters were busy at play, When asnow-bird was sitting close by on a tree, And merrily singing his chick-a-de-dee, Chick-a-de-dee, chick-a-de-dee, And merrily singing his chick-a-de-dee. He had not been singing that tune very long, Ere Emily heard him, so loud was his song : a eneeinneeneienenmatnanette tT 106 SONGS FOR THE Ta eitlinllgtitntnceanaaeamtineer aan “Qh, sister, look out of the window,” said she ; “Fere’s a dear little bird singing chick-a-de-dee. - Chick-a-de-dee, etc. “Oh, mother, do get him some stockings and shoes, And a nice little frock, and a hat if he choose ; I wish he’d come into the parlor and see How warm we would make him, poor chick-a- de-dee.” Chick-a-de-dee, etc. “There is One, my dear child, though I cannot tell who, | Has clothed me already, and warm enough too. Good-morning! Oh who are so happy as we r And away he went singing his chick-a-de-dee. Chick-a-de-dee, ete. F. C. Woodworth. MY MOTHER. My mother, my kind mother, I hear thy gentle voice ; It always makes my little heart Beat gladly and rejoice. When I am ill it comes to me, And kindly soothes my pain ; And when I sleep, then in my dreams It sweetly comes again. LITTLE ONES AT HOME. —_————__————_——— ‘It always makes me happy, Whene’er I hear its tone ; I know it is the voice of love, From a heart that is my own. My mother, my dear mother, O may I never be Unkind or disobedient, In any way, to thee. PURE AIR. Throw open the window, and fasten it there, Fling the curtain aside, and the blind, And give a free entrance to heaven’s pure air ; 'T is the life and the health of mankind. Are you fond of coughs, colds, dyspepsia, and rheums, Of headaches, and fevers, and chills? Of bitters, hot drops, and medicine fumes, And bleeding, and blisters, and pills? Then be sure when you sleep that all air is shut out ; Place, too, a warm brick at your feet, Put a bandage of flannel your neck quite about, And cover your head with a sheet. 108 SONGS FOR THE But would you avoid all forms of disease, Then haste to the fresh open air, Where your cheek may kindly be fanned by the breeze ; | 'T will make you well, happy, and fair. Then open the window, and fasten it there, Fling the curtain aside, and the blind, And give free admission to heaven’s pure air ; 'T is life, light, and joy to mankind. —— A BOY WHO TOLD A LIE. The mother looked pale, and her face was sad, She seemed to have nothing to make her glad ; - She silently sat with the tears in her eye, For her dear little boy had told a lie. He was a gentle, affectionate child, His ways were winning, his temper was mild ; There was love and joy in his soft blue eye, But the dear little boy had told a lie. He stood alone by the window within, For he felt that his soul was stained with sin ; And his mother could hear him sob and cry, Because he had told her that wicked lie. LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 109 dE Then he came and stood by his mother’s side, And asked for a kiss, which she denied ; While he promised, with many a penitent sigh, That he never would tell another lie. So she bade him before her kneel gently down, And took his soft hands within her own ; And she kissed his cheek as he looked on high And prayed to be pardoned for telling that lie. Wome ise § ~ 6 FSD <= ¥ s / “se ~ BUSY BEE. How doth the little busy bee Improve each shining hour, And gather honey all the day, From every opening flower. Songs. i eels 110 SONGS FOR THE How skilfully she builds her cell, How neat she spreads the wax, And labors hard to store it well With the sweet food she makes. In works of labor or of skill, I would be busy too ; For Satan finds some mischief still, For idle hands to do. Watts. GENERAL WASHINGTON. When General Washington was young, About as big as I, He never would permit his tongue To tell a wilful lie. Once when he cut his father’s tree, ~ He owned it to his face ; And then his father ardently Clasped him in his embrace. He told his son it pleased him more To find him own the truth, Than if his tree were bending o’er With rich and golden fruit. Then like this good and noble youth, Whose virtues ever shone, I'll seek the paths of love and truth, And all my faults will own. j eae ol pe tye bow le THE WORKS OF GOD. God made the sky that looks so blue ; He made the grass so green ; He made the flowers that smell so sweet, In pretty colors seen. God made the sun that shines so bright, And gladdens all I see ; It comes to give us heat and light: How thankful should we be. God made the pretty bird to fly ; How sweetly has she sung ; And though she flies so very high, She wont forget her young. oa \ ~ - he ~~" ree Fd renee eee ce, SONGS FOR THE God made the cow to give nice milk, The horse for me t0 use ; [ll treat thém kindly for His sake, Nor dare His gifts abuse. God made the water for my drink ; He made the fish to swim ; He made the tree to bear nice fruit : O, how should I love him. Taylor. THE BEES. O, mother dear, pray tell me where The bees in winter stay? The flowers are gone they feed upon, So sweet in summer’s day. My child, they live within the hive, And have enough to eat; Amid the storm they’re clean and warm, Their food is honey sweet. Say, mother dear, how came it there? Did father feed them so? I see no way in winter’s day That honey has to grow. LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 113 No, no, my child; in summer mild, The bees laid up their, store Of honey-drops in little"ups, Till they would want no more. In cups, you said—how are they made? Are they as large as ours? O no; they’re all made nice and small, Of wax found in the flowers. Our summer’s day to work and play, Is now in mercy given, And we must strive, long as we live, To lay up stores in heaven. Hastings’ “‘ Nursery Songs.” THE WANDERINGS OF THE BIRDS. Autumn has come, so bare and gray, The woods are brown and red, The flowers all have passed away, The forest leaves are dead. The little birds at morning dawn, Clothed in warm coats of feather, Conclude that they away will roam, To seek for milder weather. 114 SONGS FOR THE The robin gives his last sweet strain, His mate responding, follows; And then away they lead the train Of blue-birds, wrens, and swallows. The cuckoo, thrush, and yellow-bird, The wild goose, teal, and sparrow, Martin and chippee, all are heard To sing their parting carol. The oriole hastens in his flight, The swallow skims the water ; The whip-poor-will and bobby white Join in the blackbirds’ chatter. Tribe after tribe with leaders fair All spread their wings for flight, Away, away, high in the air, Nor care for day nor night. The fig-tree and the orange bowers They soon will find so sweet ; The sunny clime of fruits and flowers They with warm hearts will greet. But when the voice of spring they hear, They ’ll sing their “ chick-a-dee,” And back they ’Il come, our hearts to cheer “'Tu-whit, tu-whit, tu-whee.” ’ LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 115 DON’T KILL THE BIRDS. Don’t kill the birds, the little birds That sing about your door, Soon as the joyous spring has come, And chilling storms are o’er. The little birds, how sweet they sing ; Oh, let them joyous live, . And do not seek to take their life, Which you can never give. Don’t kill the birds, the pretty bird That play among the trees ; ’'T would make the earth a cheerless place To see no more of these. 116 SONGS FOR THE The little birds—how fond they play ; Do not disturb their sport ; But let them@warble forth their songs, Till winter cuts them short. Don’t kill the birds—the happy birds, That cheer the field and grove ; Such harmless things to look upon, They claim our warmest love. WHEN FATHER COMES HOME. When my father comes home in the evening from work, Then I will get up on his knee, And tell him how many nice lessons I learn, And show him how good I can be. He shall hear what number I know how to count, I'll tell him what words I can spell ; And if I can learn something new every day, I hope soon to read very well. I’ll repeat to him all the good verses I know, And tell him how kind we must be, That we never must hurt little creatures at all; And he will be glad, and love me. LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 117 I’ll tell him we always must try to please God, And never be cruel nor rude, For God is the Father of alliving things, He cares for and blesses the good. SAMUEL. When little Samuel woke, And heard his Maker’s voice, At every word He spoke, How much did he rejoice. O blessed, happy child, to find The God of heaven so near and kind. 118 SONGS FOR THE If God would speak. to me, | And say he was my friend, How happy I should be, Oh how should I attend. The smallest sin I then should fear, If God Almighty were so near. And does he never speak ? O yes; for in his word He bids me come and seek The God that Samuel heard. In almost every page I see, The God of Samuel calls to me. THE POOR FAMILY. I saw an old cottage of clay, And only of mud was the floor, ’T was all falling into decay, And snow drifted in at the door. Yet there a poor family dwelt, In a cottage so dismal and rude; And though keenest hunger they felt They ’d scarcely a morsel of food. The children were crying for bread, And to their poor mother would run— “© give us some breakfast,” they said ; Alas, their poor mother had none. LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 119 O then let the wealthy and gay But see such a hovel as this ; And in a poor cottage of clay, Learn what real misery is. The little that I have to spare. I never will squander away, While thousands of people there are As poor coigls as | wretched as they. Taylor. h ‘ «' J a) C 7 . N \ * My AN , 7 i] = oe | ‘ ~ TAY yy < S .\ NS EE S > ANOS 8 hi’ \\ ie Shy ep AS : ae : Ao ° ’ N Sh _ A ¥ 7 S \ - Wik ar — = 5 rq : 7, . Te Un i = eT SSS 7 MARY’S LITTLE LAMB. Mary had a little lamb, Its fleece was white as snow ; And everywhere that Mary went, The lamb was sure to go. Pte 223 \ ow Oh ad mS &- eas xs Ee ei -~ A, 2 = Me SONGS FOR THE He followed her to school one day— That was against the rule; It made the children laugh and play, To see a lamb at school. So the teacher turned him out, But still he lingered near, And waited patiently about, Till Mary did appear. Then he ran to her, and laid His head upon her arm, As if he said, I’m not afraid, You'll keep me from all harm. “What makes the lamb love Mary so?” The eager children cry. “©, Mary loves the lamb, you know,” The teacher did reply. And you each gentle animal In confidence may bind, And make them follow at your will, If you are only kind. Songs for Children. LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 121 THE LITTLE BEGGARS. Two beggars are at the door, mamma, Two beggars are at the door, A beggar-boy and a beggar-girl, And the wind is biting, at every whirl, Their feet all naked and sore. Oh, hasten and bring them in, mamma, Oh, hasten and bring them in, And let them sit by the fire so warm, For they have been out in the cold, cold storm, | And their clothes are tattered and thin. Songs. 11 122 SONGS FOR THE And tell them this is their home, mamma, Oh, tell them this is their home ; And give them something to eat that’s nice, Of bread and butter a good large slice, And bid them no more to roam. For isn’t it all too bad, mamma, Oh, is n’t it all too bad, That they must starve, or beg in the street, No cloak to their backs, or shoes to their feet, While I am so finely clad? It may be God sent them here, mamma, It may be God sent them here, And now looks down from his home in the sky, To watch them and see whether you and | Are kind to his children dear. And will he not angry be, mamma, And will he not angry be, If we let them go on in the storm s0 rough, To perish with want, while more than enough For them and for us have we? TRYING TO DO RIGHT. O that it were my chief delight To do the things I ought ; Then let me try with all my might, To mind what I am taught. LITTLE ONES AT HOME. So cumtneeutaneemeriieeapemanmnsinmcmaamnsmmmmn tte Wherever I am bid to go, I'll cheerfully obey, Nor will I mind it much, although I leave some pretty play. When I am bid, I’ll freely bring Whatever I have got, And never touch a pretty thing, If mother tells me not. When she permits me, I may tell About my little toys ; But if she’s busy or unwell, I must not make a noise. And when I learn my hymns to say, And work, and read, and spell, I will not think about my play, But try to do it well. For God looks down from heaven on high, Our actions to behold, And he is pleased when children try To do as they are told. Taylor. FAITH IN GOD. I knew a widow very poor, Who four small children had: The oldest was but six years old, A gentle, modest lad. | SONGS FOR THE And very hard this widow toiled To feed her children four ; A noble heart the mother had, Though she was very poor. To labor, she would leave her home, For children must be fed ; And glad was she when she could buy A shilling’s worth of bread. And this was all the children had On any day to eat: They drank their water, ate their bread, But never tasted meat. One day when snow was falling fast, And piercing was the air, I thought that I would go and see How these poor children were. Ere long I reached their cheerless home— ’T was searched by every breeze— When, going in, the eldest child I saw upon his knees. I paused to listen to the boy: He never raised his head, But still went on, and said, “ Give us This day our daily bread.” LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 125 I waited till the child was done, Still listening as he prayed ; And when he rose, I asked him why That prayer he then had said. “Why, sir,” said he, “this morning, when My mother went away, She wept, because she said she had No bread for us to-day. “She said we children now must starve, Our father being dead ; And then I told her not to cry, For I could get some bread. “‘Our Father,’ sir, the prayer begins, Which made me think that he, As we have no kind father here, Would our kind Father be. “ And then you know, sir, that the prayer Asks God for bread each day ; So in the corner, sir, I went, And that’s what made me pray.” I quickly left that wretched room, And went with fleeting feet, And very soon was back again With food enough to eat. 126 SONGS FOR THE a cichiiliaienamileichacstioeiaiiscenceimetie “T thought God heard me,” said the boy. I answered with a nod; I could not speak, but much I thought Of that boy’s faith in God. Rev. Dr. Hawks. —— THE CHATTERBOX. From morning till night, it was Lucy’s delight To chatter and talk without stopping ; There was not a day but she rattled away, Like water for ever a dropping. As soon as she rose, while she put on her clothes, , 'T was vain to endeavor to still her ; Nor once did she lack to continue her clack, Till again she lay down on her pillow. How very absurd! and have you not heard That much tongue and few brains are con- nected ; That they are supposed to think least who talk most? Their wisdom is always suspected. While Lucy was young, if she’d bridled her tongue With a little good-sense and exertion, Who knows but she might now have been our delight, Instead of our jest and aversion. Taylor. LITTLE ONES AT HOME. San Tapa evmnT Tn emnnTnnnen se LOVE YOUR LITTLE BROTHER. I had a little friend ; And every day he crept In sadness to his brother’s tomb, And laid him down and wept. And when I asked him why He mourned so long and sore, He answered through his tears, “ Because I did not love him more. “Sometimes I was not kind, Or cross, or coldly spake ;” And then he turned away, and sobbed As though his heart would break. Brothers and sisters are a gift Of mercy from the skies ; And may I always think of this Whene’er they meet my eyes ; Be tender, good, and kind, And love them in my heart, Lest I should sigh with bitter grief, When we are called to part. Mrs Sigourney. SONGS FOR THE THE ANTS. A little black ant found a large grain of wheat, Too heavy to lift or to roll; So he begged of a neighbor he happened to meet, To help it down into his hole. I’ve got my own work to look after, said he ; You must shift for yourself, if you please ; So he crawled off as selfish and cross as could be, And lay down to sleep at his ease. Just then a black brother was passing the road, And seeing his brother in want, Came up and assisted him in with his load, For he was a good-natured ant. Let all who this story may happen to hear, Endeavor to profit by it; For often it happens that children appear As cross as the ant, every bit. And the good-natured ant who assisted his brother , May teach those who choose to be taught, That if little insects are kind to each other, Then children most certainly ought. LITTLE ONES AT HOME. IDLE ANNA. Oh, Anna, this will never do, This work is sadly done, my dear ; And then so little of it, too— You have not taken pains, I fear. Oh, nd, your work has been forgotten ; Indeed, you hardly thought of that: I saw you roll your spool of cotton About the floor, to please the cat. 130 SONGS FOR THE See, here are stitches straggling wide, And others stretching down so far, I’m very sure you have not tried In this, at least, to please mamma. The little girl who will not sew, _ Must neither be allowed to play ; And now I hope, my love, that you Will take more pains another day. MY FATHER BLESSED ME My father raised his trembling hand, And laid it on my head ; “ God bless thee, O my son, my son ¥ Most tenderly he said. He died, and left no gems of gold: But still I was his heir ; For that rich blessing which he gave Became a fortune rare. Still, in my weary hours of toil To earn my daily bread, It gladdens me in thought to feel His hand upon my head. Though infant tongues to me have said, “Dear father,” oft since then, Yet when I bring that scene to mind, I’m but a child again. LITTLE ONES AT HOME. THE ARK AND DOVE. There was a noble ark, Sailing o’er waters dark And wide around ; Not one tall tree was seen, Nor flower, nor leaf of green— All, all was drowned. Then a soft wing was spread, And o’er the billows dread A meek dove flew ; But on that shoreless tide, No living thing she spied To cheer her view. So to the ark she fled, With weary, drooping head, » To seek for rest : Christ is thy ark, my love, ’ Thou art the tender dove ; Fly to his breast. Mrs. Sigourney. edonlecdeg WHAT I HATE. I hate to see a little girl That does not love to rise, And have the water, fresh and sweet, Cover her face and eyes. SONGS FOR THE a eelaiaimienpnliee I hate to see her pretty dress So careless look and tossed, Her toys all scattered here and there, Her thread and needle lost. I hate to see her, at her play, When little girls have met To frolic, laugh, and run about, Grow peevish, cry, and fret. I hate to hear her tell a lie— Whats not her own to take; Mamma’s commands to disobey, And father’s rules to break. And now I’ve told you what I hate, I’ll only stop to say, Perhaps I'll tell you what I love Upon some other day. WHAT I LOVE. I love to see a little girl Rise with the lark so bright; Bathe, comb, and dress with cheerful face, Then thank the God of light. And when she comes to meet mamma, So fresh and neat and clean, And asks a kiss from dear papa With such a modest mien, LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 133 nnn SnD EER Songs That all who see her gentle look And pretty actions too, Will feel that she’s a darling child— Kind, honest, loving, true. These are the things I so much like; And now, who’ll try to be Tho meek and modest little girl Which you before you see? ROBIN REDBREAST’S SECRET. I’m little Robin Redbreast, sir, My nest is in the tree ; If you look up in yonder elm, My pleasant home you'll see. We made it very soft and nice— My pretty mate and I— And all the time we worked at it, We sang most merrily. The green leaves shade our lovely home From the hot scorching sun ; So many birds live in the tree, We do not want for fun. The light breeze gently rocks our nest, And hushes us to sleep ; We’re up betimes to sing our song, And the first daylight greet. i eeeetiseeeietecinaaaara ADDL OD SONGS FOR THE I have a secret I would like The little girls to know ; But I wont tell a single boy— They rob the poor birds so. We have four pretty little nests, We watch them with great care; Full fifty eggs are in this tree— - Don’t tell the boys they ’re here. Joe Thomson robbed the nest last year, And year before, Tom Brown ; Ill tell it loud as I can sing, To every one in town. ec ETL OC iene eee enamel LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 135 Swallow and sparrow, lark and thrush, Will tell you just the same: To make us all so sorrowful, It is a wicked shame. Oh, did you hear the concert This morning from our tree? We give it every morning Just as the clock strikes three. We praise our great Creator, Whose holy love we share: Dear children, learn to praiso Him too, For all his tender care. Youth’s Ponny Gazette. ANNA’S RESOLUTION. Well, now I Il sit down, and 1’ll work very fast, And try if I can’t be a good girl at last; Tis better than being so sulky and haughty, I'm really quite tired of being so naughty. For as mamma says, when my business is done, There’s plenty of time left to play and to run ; But when ’t is my work-time, I ought to sit still ; And I know that I ought, so I certainly will. But for fear, after all, I should get at my play, I will put little doll in the closet away ; 136 SONGS FOR THE ia miaimtmaciansaaiaicnhaninnn And I'll not look to see what the kitten is doing, Nor yet think of any thing else but my sewing. I’m sorry I’ve idled so often before, But I hope I shall never do so any more: Mamma will be pleased when she sees how I -mend, And have done this long seam from beginning 1 Ke) end. Taylor. PRETTY BEE. Pretty bee, pray tell me why Thus from flower to flower you fly, Culling sweets the livelong day, Never leaving off to play. Little child, I’ll tell you why Thus from flower to flower I fly: Let the truth thy thoughts engage, From thy youth to riper age. Summer flowers will soon be 0’ er ; Winter comes, they bloom no more: Fairest days will soon be past ; Brightest suns will set at last. Little child, now learn of me: Let thy youth thy seed-time be ; Then, when wintry age has come, Richly bear thy harvest home. SN wa - MI ERK 4 a eS ~ a. __ es Oo — TEMPERANCE SONG. I asked a sweet robin, one morning in May, Who sung in the apple-tree over the way, What ’t was she was singing so sweetly about, For I’d tried a long time, but could not find out : “Why, I’m sure,” she replied, “you cannot guess Wrong ; Don’t you know I am singing a temperance song? . “Teetotal—O that’s the first word of my lay ; And then don’t you see how I twitter away? 12% 138 SONGS FOR THE ——_————————————————— ER Tig because I’ve just dipped my beak in the spring, And brushed the fair face of the lake with my wing. Cold water, cold water, yes, that is my song, And I love to keep singing it all the day long. “And now, my sweet miss, wont you give me a, crumb ; For the dear little nestlings are waiting at home? And one thing besides; since my story you’ve heard, I hope you’ll remember the lay of the bird ; And never forget, while you list to my song, All the birds to the cold-water army belong. E. P. Hood’s Temperance Melodies. THE CHILD IN HEAVEN. A little child who loves to pray, And read his Bible too, Shall rise above the sky one day, And sing as angels do; Shall live in heaven, that world above, Where all is joy and peace and love. LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 139 a Look up, dear children, see that star, Which shines so brightly there ; But you shall brighter shine by far, When in that world so fair: A harp of gold you each shall have, And sing the power of Christ to save. \\4\\ \ Puy | Ny | i, i\ b hi Mi} 7 IK 8 THE MERRY FLY. My merry little fly, play here, And let me look at you; I will not touch you, though you ’re near, As naughty children do. a cadesennaiemencinineel nanan a —$—<—— om". OO eo 140 SONGS FOR THE icin maninmessmmnainimaieanainestattamnstssailin tana I see you spread your pretty wings, That sparkle in the sun: I see your legs—what tiny things ; And yet how fast they run! You walk along the ceiling now, And down the upright wall: I'll ask mamma to tell me how You walk and do not fall. "T was God that taught you, little fly, To walk along the ground, And mount above my head so high, And frolic round and round. I'll near you stand, to see you play ; But do not be afraid: I would not lift my little hand To hurt what God has made. Mary Lundie Duncan. WE ARE SEVEN. I met a little cottage girl, She was eight years old, she said ; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head. “ Sisters and brothers, little maid, How many may you be?” “How many? seven in all,” she said, And wondering looked at me. =< EO LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 141 sig iietissisasathicadaslinititinisinsilasadsicitaitaantin “ And where are they, I pray you tell?” She answered, “Seven are we; And two of us at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea. “Two of us in the churchyard lie, My sister and my brother ; And in the churchyard cottage I Dwell near them with my mother.” “You say that two at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea, Yet you are seven; I pray you tell, Sweet maid, how this may be.” Then did the little maid reply, “Seven boys and girls are we ; Two of us in the churchyard lie, Beneath the churchyard tree.” “You run about, my little maid, Your limbs they are alive ; If two are in the churchyard laid, Then you are only five.” “Their graves are green, they may be seen,” The little maid replied, “Twelve steps or more from mother’s door, And they are side by side. 142 SONGS FOR THE “My stockings there I often knit ; My ’kerchief there I hem ; And there upon the ground I sit— I sit and sing to them. “ And often after sunset, sir, When it is light and fair, I take my little porringer, And eat my supper there. “The first that died was little Jane ; In bed she moaning lay, Till God released her from her pain, And then she went away. “So in the churchyard she was laid ; And when the grass was dry, Together round her grave we played, My brother John and I. “And when the ground was white with snow, And I could run and slide, My brother John was forced to go And he lies by her side.” “How many are you, then,” said I, “Tf those two are in heaven?” The little maiden did reply, “OQ, master, we are seven.” LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 143 LR “But they are dead—those two are dead, Their spirits are in heaven.” 'T was throwing words away, for still The little maid would have her will, And said, “ Nay, we are seven.” Wordsworth. FEAR NOT. Yea, fear not, fear not, little ones ; There is in heaven an Kye That looks with yearning fondness down On all the paths ye try. Tis He who guides the sparrow’s wing, And guards her little brood ; Who hears the ravens when they cry, | And fills them all with food. ‘Tis He who clothes the fields with flowers, And pours the light abroad ; 'T is he who numbers all your hours, Your Father and your God. Ye are the chosen of his love, His most peculiar care ; And will he guide the fluttering dove, And not regard your prayer? SONGS FOR THE Nay, fear not, fear not, little ones ; There is in heaven an Kye | That looks with yearning fondness down On all the paths you try. Hell keep you when the storm is wild, And when the flood is near ; O trust him, trust him as a child, And you have naught to fear. THE BROKEN CHAIR. O dear, O dear, what shall Ido? . I’ve broke my chair, and tumbled through : Mother will say, You careless boy, From morn till night, ’t is all, destroy. I’m sure I did not mean to break The chair she purchased for my sake ; I felt like jumping then, and so It broke, and then I tumbled through. I am afraid to meet her eye; Shell look so sorry, I shall ery : O dear, O dear, what shall 1 do? I wish I had not tumbled through. I'll tell you what—now right away I'll go and tell her ’t was in play ; And I’m so sorry for it now, I know I shall more careful grow. LITTLE ONES AT HOME. KR RASS = - Wis ASSES Ww SVS! 3 . : WS > ; , ee : aa . - = E ; 1 ihe / Tin S : r . : NA | . Se Le 2 fT nel mM, 7 fl THE CAPTIVE BLUEBIRD. “Sweet little mistress, let me go, And I'll smooth the feathers on my brow, And sing you a song so sweet and clear, That you will be glad to stop and hear. “Indeed, you know not what to do; I'll tell you all, and tell you true: I’ve left some young ones on the tree, In a soft nest; there are one, two, three. “Tis two hours now since Billy was fed, And little Dick he hangs his head, Sweet Katy wonders where I’m gone, And the poor things are all alone. Songs. 13 Vt 146 SONGS FOR THE = lili taiketicenameietean aN “Perhaps some cat, in prowling round, Will see and seize them at a bound ; The cruel pussy I might scare With my shrill note, if I were there. “Ah me! no more at early morn Shall I rest my foot on the stooping thorn, And pour the song from my soft breast, While my dear young ones are at rest. “No more shall I, with eager bill, ° Snatch up the worm from off the hill, And no more hear the trembling cry That welcomes me when I draw nigh. “But my sad notes have touched your heart, Your open hand bids me depart ; Blessings on thee, my mistress dear, My darlings have no more to fear.” THE LIE. And has my darling told a lie? Did she forget that God was by— That God who saw the thing she did, From whom no action can be hid? Did she forget that God could see And hear, wherever she might be? ie LITTLE ONES AT HOME. nnn He made our eyes, and can discern Whichever way you think to turn ; He made our ears, and he can hear Whene’er you think no one is near : In every place, by night or day, He watches all you do or say. You thought because you were alone, Your falsehood never could be known ; But liars always are found out, Whatever way they wind about: Then always be afraid, my dear, To tell a lie, for God can hear. THE LITTLE FISH. “Dear mother,” said a little fish, “Pray is not that a fly? I’m very hungry, and I wish You’d let me go and try.” “Sweet innocent,” the mother cried, And started from her nook, “That horrid fly is put to hide The sharpness of the hook.” Now, as I’ve heard, this little trout Was young and foolish too, And so he thought he’d venture out To see if it were true. 148 SONGS FOR THE And round about the hook he played, With many a longing look, And, “Dear me,” to himself he said, “T’m sure that’s not a hook. “T can but give one little pluck: Let’s see, and so I will.” So on he went, and lo, it stuck Quite through his little gill. And as he faint and fainter grew, With hollow voice he cried, “Dear mother, had I minded you, I need not now have died.” LITTLE CHILD. Little child, when you’re at play, Do you know that Jesus sees you? He it is who made the day, Sunshine, birds, and flowers, to please you. © then thank him much, and pray To be grateful every day. Little child, when you’re afraid, Do you know that Christ is by you? Seek his care then—he has said, Ask, and I will not deny you. And he never fails to hear: He will keep you, do not fear. LITTLE ONES AT HOME. pala coals resesliipeienecbaiaatcmanniaiiial Little child, when you are bad, Do you think that Jesus knows it? Yes; and O, it makes him glad When you’re sorry, and disclose it. O then tell him quick, and pray To grow better every day. DIRTY HANDS. O dear me, Emma, how is this? Your hands are very dirty, miss ; I don’t expect such hands to see When you come in to dine with me. Mamma, said little Emma, pray, Shall we have company to-day, That I should be so very clean? By whom, pray, am I to be seen? By whom, my dear? why, by mamma, By brothers, sisters, and papa ; Say, do you not most love to see Your parents and your family? Be cleanly and polite at home, Then you’re prepared if friends should come ; Make it your habit to be clean, No matter then by whom you’re seen. Taylor. 13* SONGS FOR THE lesen ean CHICKENS. O hear the chickens pip ; They will no longer keep Under their mother’s wing ; And shall I run and catch them? O no, I must not touch them ; "T would be a cruel thing. She cannot get away, She wishes them to stay Within the little coop: I wish that they were kinder, And not so slow to mind her, So swift away to hop. Poor hen, she walks about And struggles to get out, She feels so very sad: I wish that every chickling Would stop its merry pipping, And run to make her glad. I'll never run away, Or stop to laugh and play When mother calls me home: I'll quickly run to meet her, With kindest kisses greet her, Soon as she bids me come. Hastings’ ‘Nursery Songs.” | LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 151 Why is Sarah standing there, Leaning down upon a chair, With such an angry lip and brow? I wonder what’s the matter now. Come here, my dear, and tell me true ; Is it because I spoke to you About the work you’d done so slow, That you are standing fretting so? Why, then indeed I’m grieved to see That you can so ill-tempered be. You make your fault a great deal worse By being angry and perverse. 152 SONGS FOR THE aS O, how much better ’t would appear, To see you shed a humble tear, And then to hear you meekly say, “T ll not do so another day.” TEMPER. Bad temper, go, You never shall stay with me; Bad temper, go, You and I shall never agree. For I will always kind and mild And gentle pray to be, And do to others as I wish That they should do to me. Temper bad With me shall never stay ;. Temper bad Can never be happy and gay. OF WHAT ARE YOUR CLOTHES MADE? Come here to mamma, and I'll tell you, dear boy— For I think you never have guessed— How many poor animals we must employ Before little George can be dressed. LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 153 The pretty sheep gives you the wool from his sides, To make you a jacket to use ; The goat or the calf must be stripped of their hides, To give you these nice little shoes. And then the shy beaver contributes his share, With the rabbit, to give you a hat, For this must be made of their delicate hair ; And so you may thank them for that. All these I have mentioned, and many more too, Each willingly gives us a share; One sends us a hat, and another a shoe, That we may have plenty to wear. Then as the poor creatures thus suffer to give So much for the comfort of man, I think ’t is but right, that as long as they live We should treat them as kind as we can. Taylor. BE CAREFUL IN PLAY. In your play be very careful Not to give another pain ; And if others hurt or tease you, Never do the like to them. SONGS FOR THE If a stone were thrown upon you, And should hit your head or eye, Don’t you know ’t, would hurt you sadly, Don’t you think ’t would make you cry? Never throw a stone or brickbat, Though you see no creature near ; 'T is a dangerous, naughty practice, Which you little ones should fear. God will love the child that’s gentle, And who tries to do no wrong: You must learn then to be careful, Now while you are very young. HAPPY CHILDREN. If little children love to pray, And keep their temper all the day, And never speak a wicked word, Whatever language they have heard ; Or if they struggle hard and pray, To drive all naughty thoughts away ; Then they ’ll be happy all day long As wild birds in their morning song. LITTLE ONES AT HOME. WORK AND PLAY. : These children who are all the day Allowed to wander out, And only waste their time in play, — Or running wild about ; Who do not any school attend, But trifle as they will, Are almost certain in the end To come to something ill. There’s nothing worse than idleness To lead them into sin ; ’T is sure to end in wretchedness, In poverty, and pain. 156 SONGS FOR THE Sometimes they learn to lie and cheat, Sometimes to steal and swear : These are the lessons in the street For idle children there. . — A GOOD NAME. Children, choose it, Don’t refuse it, ’"T is a precious diadem ; Highly prize it, Don’t despise it, You will need it when you’re men. Love and cherish, Keep and nourish, ’T is more precious far than gold ; Watch and guard it, Don’t discard it, You will need it when you’re old. eee ee BOY AND LARK. Who taught you to sing, My sweet pretty birds? Who tuned your beautiful throats? LITTLE ONES AT HOME, You make all the woods And the valleys to ring, You bring the first news Of the earliest spring, With your loud and silvery notes. It was God, said a lark, As he rose from the earth ; He gives us the good we enjoy: He painted our wings, He gave us our voice, He finds us our food, He bids us rejoice— Good-morning, my beautiful santo L. H. Sigourney. 158 SONGS FOR THE A D PRIDE. How proud we are, how fond to show Our clothes, and call them rich and new, When the poor sheep and silk-worm wore That very clothing long before! The tulip and the butterfly Appear in gayer coats than I; Let me be dressed fine as I will, Flies, worms, and flowers exceed me still. Watts. GOOD GIRLS. Two good little girls, Marianne and Maria, As happily lived as good girls could desire ; And though they were neither grave, sullen, nor mute, They seldom or never were heard to dispute. If one wants a thing that the other could get, They never are scratching or scrambling for it, But each one is willing to give up her right ; They ’d rather have nothing, than quarrel and fight. If one of them happens to have something nice, Directly she offers her sister a slice ; Notacting like some greedy children I’ve known, Who would go in a corner and eat it alone. LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 159 shreinentininapenninenlnhitesk aig Maleate oa oid cae When papa or mamma had a job to be done, These good little girls would immediately run, And not stand disputing to which it belonged, And grumble and fret and declare they were wronged. Whatever occurred in their work or their play, They were willing to yield and give up their own way: Then let us all try their example to mind, And always, like them, be obliging and kind. Taylor. THE BEST WAY FOR MOLLY TO BE HAPPY. She said, “I should like to be happy to-day, If I could but tell which was the easiest way ; But then I don’t know any pretty new play : And as to the old ones, why, which is the best? There’s old blind-man’s-buff, hide-and-seek, and the rest—— Or pretending it’s tea-time, when dollies are dressed. But no; let me see—now I’ve thought of a way Which would really, I think, be still better than play : I'll try to be good, if I can, the whole day, 160 SONGS FOR THE