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diff --git a/44835-0.txt b/44835-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..791c431 --- /dev/null +++ b/44835-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2131 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44835 *** + + DEVOTIONAL POETRY + + FOR THE + + CHILDREN. + + SECOND PART. + + "_Make us beautiful within, + By Thy Spirit's holy light; + Guard us when our faith burns dim, + Father of all love and might._" + + + + + PHILADELPHIA: + + Published by the Book Association of Friends. + + 1870. + + + + + Electrotyped and Printed for the Association, + BY THOMAS W. STUCKEY, + 403 North Sixth street, above Callowhill, Philadelphia. + + + + + INDEX. + + + PAGE + The Life-Clock, 5 + God is Love, 6 + Time,--Thanksgiving, 7 + "Thou, God, seest Me," 8 + The Beautiful Works of God, 9 + Spiritual Blessings,--The Dove's Visit, 10 + Teach Us to Pray,--Deeds of Kindness, 12 + An Evening Song, 14 + Be Kind to The Poor, 15 + The Lesson of The Leaves, 16 + The Spring-Bird's Lesson, 17 + The Orphan's Hymn,--Morning, 18 + Evening, 19 + A Moment Too Late, 20 + A Little Sonnet about Little Things, 21 + Examination, 22 + God is in His holy Temple, 23 + Morning Glories, 24 + How Beautiful the Setting Sun, 25 + Summer Time, 26 + Like Jesus,--I Have a Home, 27 + God, 28 + The Bird's Nest, 29 + The Lark,--Effort, 30 + The Sea Shell, 31 + God is Good,--Despise not Simple Things, 32 + The Violet, 33 + Child's Talent, 34 + The Stars are Coming, 35 + The Flowers, 36 + Little by Little, 37 + Never, My Child, Forget to Pray, 38 + The Child's Prayer, 38 + A Childlike Spirit, 39 + Live for Something, 41 + The Beautiful, 42 + Don't Kill the Birds, 43 + Little Acts of Kindness, 44 + The Blessings, 46 + When Father Comes Home, 47 + Harvest-Field of Time, 48 + Prayer,--Reflections, 49 + What is Heaven? 50 + The Child's Monitor, 51 + Give Us our Daily Bread, 52 + True Rest, 54 + One by One, 56 + God Seen in His Works, 57 + The Little Sunbeam, 58 + Compassion,--I Will be Good to-day, 59 + I'll Do what I Can, 60 + Time to Arise, 61 + Divine Guidance,--Industry, 62 + "Prayer is the Soul's sincere Desire," 63 + Angry Words, 63 + The Request, 64 + + + + + + DEVOTIONAL POETRY + FOR THE + CHILDREN. + + + + + THE LIFE-CLOCK. + + + There is a little mystic clock, + No human eye hath seen, + That beateth on,--and beateth on,-- + From morning until e'en. + + And when the soul is wrapped in sleep, + All silent and alone, + It ticks and ticks the livelong night, + And never runneth down. + + Oh! wondrous is that work of art, + Which knells the passing hour; + But art ne'er formed, nor mind conceived, + The life-clock's magic power. + + Not set in gold, nor decked with gems, + By wealth and pride possessed; + But rich or poor, or high or low, + Each bears it in his breast. + + Such is the clock that measures life,-- + Of flesh and spirit blended,-- + And thus 't will run within the breast, + Till that strange life is ended. + + + + + GOD IS LOVE. + + + Lo! the heavens are breaking, + Pure and bright above; + Light and life awaking, + Murmur, "God is love." + + Music now is ringing, + Through the leafy grove, + Feathered songsters, singing, + Warble, "God is love." + + Wake, my heart, and springing, + Spread thy wings above; + Soaring still, and singing,-- + Singing, "God is love." + + + + + TIME. + + + A minute,--how soon it is flown! + And yet, how important it is! + God calls every moment His own,-- + For all our existence is His: + And tho' we may waste many moments each day, + He notices each that we squander away. + + We should not a minute despise, + Although it so quickly is o'er; + We know that it rapidly flies, + And therefore should prize it the more. + Another, indeed, may appear in its stead; + But that precious minute, for ever, is fled. + + 'Tis easy to squander our years + In idleness, folly, and strife; + But, oh! no repentance nor tears + Can bring back one moment of life. + Then wisely improve all the time as it goes, + And life will be happy, and peaceful the close. + + + + + THANKSGIVING. + + + There's not a leaf within the bower,-- + There's not a bird upon the tree,-- + There's not a dewdrop on the flower,-- + But bears the impress, Lord, of Thee. + + Thy power the varied leaf designed, + And gave the bird its thrilling tone; + Thy hand the dewdrops' tints combined, + Till like a diamond's blaze they shone. + + Yes, dewdrops, leaves and buds, and all,-- + The smallest, like the greatest things,-- + The sea's vast space, the earth's wide ball, + Alike proclaim Thee, King of kings! + + But man alone, to bounteous Heaven, + Thanksgiving's conscious strains can raise: + To favored man, alone, 'tis given, + To join the angelic choir in praise. + + + + + "THOU, GOD, SEEST ME." + + + Thine eye is on me always, + Thou knowest the way I take; + Thou seest me when I'm sleeping, + Thou seest me when I wake. + + Thine arm is round about me, + Thy hand is underneath; + Thy love will still preserve me, + If I Thy laws do keep. + + Thou art my present helper,-- + Be Thou my daily guide; + Then I'll be safe for ever, + Whatever may betide. + + Oh! help me, dearest Father, + To walk in wisdom's way, + That I, Thy loving child, may be + Through every future day, + And, by my loving actions, prove + That He who guardeth me is Love. + + + + + THE BEAUTIFUL WORKS OF GOD. + + + All things bright and beautiful, + All creatures great and small, + All things wise and wonderful,-- + The Lord God made them all. + + Each little flower that opens, + Each little bird that sings, + He made their glowing colors, + He made their shining wings. + + The tall trees in the green wood, + The meadows where we play, + The rushes, by the water, + We gather every day,-- + + He gave us eyes to see them, + And lips, that we may tell + How great is God Almighty, + Who doeth all things well. + + + + + SPIRITUAL BLESSINGS. + + + Almighty Father! Thou hast many blessings + In store for every loving child of Thine; + For this I pray,--Let me, Thy grace possessing, + Seek to be guided by Thy will divine. + + Not for earth's treasures,--for her joys the dearest,-- + Would I my supplications raise to Thee; + Not for the hopes that to my heart are nearest, + But only that I give that heart to Thee. + + I pray that Thou wouldst guide and guard me ever; + Cleanse, by Thy power, from every stain of sin; + I will Thy blessing ask on each endeavor, + And thus Thy promised peace my soul shall win. + + + + + THE DOVE'S VISIT. + + + I knew a little, sickly child, + The long, long summer's day, + When all the world was green and bright, + Alone in bed to lay; + There used to come a little dove + Before his window small, + And sing to him with her sweet voice, + Out of the fir-tree tall. + + And when the sick child better grew, + And he could creep along, + Close to that window he would come, + And listen to her song. + He was so gentle in his speech, + And quiet at his play, + He would not, for the world, have made, + That sweet bird fly away. + + There is a Holy Dove that sings + To every listening child,-- + That whispers to his little heart + A song more sweet and mild. + It is the Spirit of our God + That speaks to him within; + That leads him on to all things good, + And holds him back from sin. + + And he must hear that "still, small voice," + Nor tempt it to depart,-- + The Spirit, great and wonderful, + That whispers in his heart. + He must be pure, and good, and true; + Must strive, and watch, and pray; + For unresisted sin, at last, + May drive that Dove away. + + + + + TEACH US TO PRAY. + + + Teach us to pray + Oh, Father! we look up to Thee, + And this our one request shall be, + Teach us to pray. + + Teach us to pray. + A form of words will not suffice,-- + The heart must bring its sacrifice: + Teach us to pray. + + Teach us to pray. + To whom shall we, Thy children, turn? + Teach Thou the lesson we would learn: + Teach us to pray. + + Teach us to pray. + To Thee, alone, our hearts look up: + Prayer is our only door of hope; + Teach us to pray. + + + + + DEEDS OF KINDNESS. + + + Suppose the little cowslip + Should hang its tiny cup, + And say, "I'm such a little flower, + I'd better not grow up." + How many a weary traveler + Would miss the fragrant smell? + How many a little child would grieve + To miss it from the dell! + + Suppose the glistening dew-drop, + Upon the grass, should say, + "What can a little dew-drop do? + I'd better roll away." + The blade on which it rested, + Before the day was done, + Without a drop to moisten it, + Would wither in the sun. + + Suppose the little breezes + Upon a summer's day, + Should think themselves too small to cool + The traveler on his way: + Who would not miss the smallest + And softest ones that blow, + And think they made a great mistake + If they were talking so? + + How many deeds of kindness + A little child may do, + Although it has so little strength, + And little wisdom, too. + It wants a loving spirit, + Much more than strength, to prove, + How many things a child may do + For others by his love. + + + + + AN EVENING SONG. + + + How radiant the evening skies! + Broad wing of blue in heaven unfurled, + God watching with unwearied eyes + The welfare of a sleeping world. + + He rolls the sun to its decline, + And speeds it on to realms afar, + To let the modest glowworm shine, + And men behold the evening star. + + He lights the wild flower in the wood, + He rocks the sparrow in her nest, + He guides the angels on their road, + That come to guard us while we rest + + When blows the bee his tiny horn, + To wake the sisterhood of flowers, + He kindles with His smile the morn, + To bless with light the winged hours. + + O God! look down with loving eyes + Upon Thy children slumbering here, + Beneath this tent of starry skies, + For heaven is nigh, and Thou art near. + + + + + BE KIND TO THE POOR. + + + Turn not from him, who asks of thee + A portion of thy store; + Poor though in earthly goods thou be, + Thou yet canst give,--what's more, + + The balm of comfort thou canst pour + Into his grieving mind, + Who oft is turned from wealth's proud door, + With many a word unkind. + + Does any from the false world find + Naught but reproach and scorn? + Does any, stung by words unkind, + Wish that he ne'er was born? + + Do thou raise up his drooping heart, + Restore his wounded mind; + Though naught of wealth thou canst impart, + Yet still thou mayest be kind. + + And oft again thy words shall wing + Backward their course to thee, + And in thy breast will prove a spring + Of pure felicity. + + + + + THE LESSON OF THE LEAVES. + + + How do the leaves grow, + In spring, upon their stems? + Oh! the sap swells up with a drop for all, + And that is life to them. + + What do the leaves do + Through the long summer hours, + They make a home for the wandering birds, + And shelter the wild flowers. + + How do the leaves fade + Beneath the autumn blast? + Oh! they fairer grow before they die, + Their brightest is their last. + + We, too, are like leaves, + O children! weak and small; + God knows each leaf of the forest shade: + He knows us, each and all. + + Never a leaf falls + Until its part is done; + God gives us grace, like sap, and then + Some work to every one. + + We, too, must grow old, + Beneath the autumn sky; + But lovelier and brighter our lives may grow, + Like leaves before they die. + + Brighter with kind deeds, + With love to others given; + Till the leaf falls off from the autumn tree, + And the spirit is in heaven. + + + + + THE SPRING BIRD'S LESSON. + + + Thou'rt up betimes, my little bird, + And out this morning early, + For still the tender bud is closed, + And still the grass is pearly. + + Why rise so soon, thou little bird, + Thy soft, warm nest forsaking? + To brave the dull, cold morning sky, + While day is scarcely breaking? + + Ah! thou art wise, thou little bird, + For fast the hours are flying; + And this young day, but dawning now, + Will soon, alas! be dying. + + I'll learn of thee, thou little bird, + And slothful habits scorning, + No longer sleep youth's dawn away, + Nor waste life's precious morning. + + + + + THE ORPHAN'S HYMN. + + + Father,--an orphan's prayer receive, + And listen to my plaintive cry: + Thou only canst my wants relieve, + Who art my Father in the sky. + + I have no father here below, + No mother kind to wipe my tears,-- + These tender names I never know, + To soothe my grief and quell my fears. + + But Thou wilt be my parent,--nigh + In every hour of deep distress, + And listen to an orphan's sigh, + And soothe the anguish of my breast. + + For Thou hast promised all I need, + More than a father's, mother's care: + Thou wilt the hungry orphan feed, + And always listen to my prayer. + + + + + MORNING. + + + Dear Lord, another day has come, + And through the hours of night, + In a good bed and quiet home + I've slept till morning light. + + Then let me give Thee thanks and praise, + For Thou art very good; + Oh, teach my little heart to raise + The prayer that children should. + + Keep me this day from faults and sin, + And make me good and mild; + Thy Holy Spirit place within, + Grant grace unto a child. + + Help me obey my parents dear, + For they are very kind; + And when the hour of rest draws near, + Another prayer I'll find. + + + + + EVENING. + + + The day is gone,--the silent night + Invites me to my peaceful bed; + But, Lord, I know that it is right + To thank Thee, ere I rest my head. + + For my good meals and pleasant hours, + That I have had this present day, + Let me exert my infant powers + To praise Thee, nor forget to pray. + + Thou art most good. I can't tell all + That Thou hast ever done for me; + My Shepherd, now on Thee I call, + From dangers still preserve me free. + + If I've been naughty on this day, + Oh! make me sorry for my fault; + Do Thou forgive, and teach the way + To follow Jesus as I ought. + + And now I'll lay me down to rest, + Myself,--my friends,--all safely keep; + May Thy great name be ever blest, + Both when we wake, and when we sleep. + + + + + A MOMENT TOO LATE! + + + A moment too late, my beautiful bird,-- + A moment too late are you now, + The wind has your soft, downy nest disturbed,-- + The nest that you hung on the bough. + A moment too late,--that string in your bill + Would have fastened it firmly and strong; + But see, there it goes rolling over the hill! + Oh! you tarried a moment too long. + + A moment too late,--too late, busy bee, + The honey has dropped from the flower; + No use to creep under the petals to see,-- + It stood ready to drop for an hour. + A moment too late,--had you sped on your wing, + The honey would not have been gone; + But see what a very,--a very sad thing, + 'Tis to tarry a moment too long. + + + + + A LITTLE SONNET ABOUT LITTLE THINGS. + + + The little, smoky vapors + Produce the drops of rain; + These little drops commingle, + And form the boundless main. + + Then, drops compose the fountains; + And little grains of sand + Compose the mighty mountains, + That high above us stand. + + The little atoms, it is said, + Compose the solid earth; + Such truths will show, if rightly read, + What little things are worth. + + For, as the sea of drops is made, + So it is Heaven's plan, + That atoms should compose the globe, + And actions mark the man. + + The little seconds soon pass by, + And leave our time the less; + And on these moments, as they fly, + Hang woe or happiness. + + For, as the present hour is spent, + So must the future be; + Each action lives, in its effect, + Through all eternity. + + The little sins and follies, + That lead the soul astray, + Leave stains, that tears of penitence, + May never wash away. + + And little acts of charity, + And little deeds of love, + May make this world a paradise, + Like to that world above. + + + + + EXAMINATION. + + + Before we close our eyes to-night, + Oh, let us each these questions ask! + Have we endeavored to do right, + Nor thought our duty a hard task? + + Have we been gentle, lowly, meek, + And the small voice of conscience heard? + When passion tempted us to speak, + Have we repressed the angry word? + + Have we with cheerful zeal obeyed + What our kind parents bade us do? + And not by word or action said + The thing that was not strictly true? + + In hard temptation's troubled hour, + Oh! have we stopped to think and pray, + That God would please to give us power + To chase the naughty thought away? + + Oh, Thou! who seest all my heart, + Do Thou forgive and love me still + And unto me new strength impart, + And make me love and do Thy will. + + + + + GOD IS IN HIS HOLY TEMPLE. + + + God is in His holy temple; + Thoughts of earth be silent now, + While with reverence we assemble, + And before His presence bow. + He is with us, now and ever, + While we call upon His name, + Aiding every good endeavor, + Guiding every upward aim. + + God is in His holy temple,-- + In the pure and humble mind; + In the reverent heart and simple; + In the soul from sense refined. + Then let every low emotion + Banished far and silent be; + And our hearts in pure devotion, + Lord, be temples worthy Thee. + + + + + MORNING GLORIES. + + + They said, "don't plant them," mother; "they're so common and so poor;" + But of seeds I had no other, so I dropped them by the door; + And they soon were brightly growing, in the rich and teeming soil, + Stretching upward, upward, upward, to reward me for my toil. + + They grew all o'er the casement, and they wreathed around the door, + All about the chamber windows, upward,--upward, ever more; + And each dawn, in glowing beauty, glistening with early dew, + Is the house all wreathed with splendor, every morning bright and new. + + What, if they close at mid-day? 'tis because their work is done, + And they shut their crimson petals from the kisses of the sun; + Teaching every day their lesson to my weary, panting soul, + To be faithful in well doing, stretching upward for the goal, + + Sending out the climbing tendrils, trusting God for strength and power, + To support, and aid, and comfort, in the trying day and hour. + Ne'er spurn the thing that's common, nor call homely flowers poor, + Each hath a holy mission, like my Glory o'er the door. + + + + + HOW BEAUTIFUL THE SETTING SUN. + + + How beautiful the setting sun! + The clouds, how bright and gay! + The stars, appearing one by one, + How beautiful are they! + + And when the moon climbs up the sky, + And sheds her gentle light, + And hangs her crystal lamp on high, + How beautiful is night! + + And can it be, that I'm possessed + Of something brighter far? + Glows there a light within this breast, + Out-shining every star? + + Yes, should the sun and stars turn pale, + The mountains melt away, + This flame within shall never fail, + But live in endless day. + + + + + SUMMER TIME. + + + I love to hear the little birds + That carol on the trees; + I love the gentle, murmuring stream; + I love the evening breeze. + + I love to hear the busy hum + Of honey-making bee, + And learn a lesson,--hard to learn,-- + Of patient industry. + + I love to think of Him who made + Those pleasant things for me, + Who gave me life, and health, and strength, + And eyes, that I might see. + + The child who raises, morn and eve, + In prayer its tiny voice + Who grieves whene'er its parents grieve, + And joys when they rejoice,-- + + In whose bright eyes young genius glows, + Whose heart, without a blot, + Is fresh and pure as summer's rose,-- + That child's a sunny spot. + + + + + LIKE JESUS. + + + I want to be like Jesus, + So lowly and so meek; + For no one marked an angry word, + Whoever heard him speak. + + I want to be like Jesus, + So frequently in prayer; + Alone upon the mountain top, + He met his Father there. + + I want to be like Jesus: + I never, never find, + That he, though persecuted, was + To any one unkind. + + I want to be like Jesus, + Engaged in doing good; + So that of me it may be said, + I have done what I could. + + + + + I HAVE A HOME. + + + I have a home in which to live, + A bed to rest upon, + Good food to eat, and fire to warm, + And raiment to put on. + + Kind parents, full of gentle love, + Brothers and sisters, too, + With many faithful, loving friends, + Who teach me what to do. + + How many little children have + No food, nor clothes to wear, + No house, nor home, nor parents kind, + To guide them by their care. + + For all Thy bounty, O my God, + May I be grateful found, + And ever show my love to Thee, + By loving all around. + + + + + GOD. + + + God!--What a great and holy name! + Oh! who can speak His worth? + By saints in heaven He is adored, + Obeyed by men on earth + And yet a little child may bend + And say: "My Father and my Friend." + + The glorious sun, which blazes high, + The moon, more pale and dim, + And all the stars which fill the sky, + Are made and ruled by Him: + And yet a child may ask His care, + And call upon His name in prayer. + + And this large world of ours below, + The waters and the land, + And all the trees and flowers that grow, + Were fashioned by His hand; + Yes,--and He forms our infant race, + And even I may seek His face. + + + + + THE BIRD'S NEST. + + + There's a nest in the hedge-row, + Half bid by the leaves, + And the sprays, white with blossom, + Bend o'er it like eaves. + + God gives birds their lodging, + He gives them their food, + And they trust He will give them + Whatever is good. + + Ah! when our rich blessings, + My child, we forget; + When for some little trouble + We murmur and fret; + + Hear sweet voices singing + In hedges and trees: + Shall we be less thankful, + Less trustful than these? + + + + + THE LARK. + + + Ah! little lark, I see you there, + So very, very high; + Just like a little, tiny speck + Up in the clear blue sky. + + How good is He, who strengthens thus + Your slight and tender wing, + And teaches such a little throat + So sweet a song to sing. + + + + + EFFORT. + + + Scorn not the slightest word nor deed, + Nor deem it void of power; + There's fruit in each wind-wafted seed, + That waits its natal hour. + + A whispered word may touch the heart, + And call it back to life; + A look of love bid sin depart, + And still unholy strife. + + No act falls fruitless; none can tell + How vast its powers may be, + Nor what results, unfolded, dwell + Within it, silently. + + Work on,--despair not,--bring thy mite, + Nor care how small it be; + God is with all who serve the right, + The holy, true, and free. + + + + + THE SEA SHELL. + + + There is found a tiny sea shell, + Half-imbedded in the sand, + Sometimes flashing in the moonlight, + Like a diamond on the strand. + + And from out the winding chambers + That are hid within the shell, + Ever steals a curious music, + That doth never sink nor swell. + + But, like the far-off voice of ocean, + Murmurs forth its monotone, + Holding thus within its bosom + E'er an ocean of its own. + + Thus the sea shells ever gather + Little oceans in their breasts, + Which do echo there for ever + Ocean's hymn, which never rests. + + Thus the soul will echo music, + Born in heaven, and not of earth; + And give praises all, for ever, + To the One that gave it birth. + + + + + GOD IS GOOD. + + + Morn amid the mountains, + Lovely solitude, + Gushing streams and fountains, + Murmur, "God is good." + + Now the glad sun, breaking, + Pours a golden flood; + Deepest vales awaking, + Echo, "God is good." + + Wake and join the chorus, + Man with soul endued! + He, whose smile is o'er us, + God,--our God,--is good. + + + + + DESPISE NOT SIMPLE THINGS. + + + Despise not simple things: + The humblest flower that wakes + In early spring, to scent the air + Of woodland brakes, + Should have thy love as well + As blushing parlor rose, + That never felt the perfect breath + Of nature round it close. + + Despise not simple things: + The poor demand thy love, + As well as those who in the halls + Of splendor move. + The beggar at thy door + Thou shouldst not e'er despise; + For that may be a noble heart + Which 'neath his tatters lies. + + Despise not little things: + An ant can teach of toil; + The buttercup can light the heart + With its own pleasant smile; + 'Tis not from towering heights alone + The noble thought within us springs; + There's something holy and sublime + In the love of simple things. + + + + + THE VIOLET. + + + "Oh, mother! mother! only look! + See what I've got for thee; + I found it close beside the brook,-- + This pretty violet,--see. + + "And father says there will be more + So, mother, when they come, + We'll pick my little basket full, + And bring them with us home. + + "And, mother,--only listen now! + 'Tis very strange, indeed,-- + This pretty flower, with leaves and all, + Was once a little seed. + + "When it was planted in the ground, + The sun shone very bright, + And made the little seed so warm, + It grew with all its might." + + "Yes, Charles: the bright sun made it warm, + 'Twas wet with rain and dew; + The leaves came first, and then, ere long, + We found the violet blue. + + "Charley, I think when we are good, + Obedient, and kind, + Good feelings, like the little flowers, + Are growing in the mind. + + "But when we suffer evil thoughts + To grow and flourish there, + Then they are like the noxious weeds, + That choke the flowerets fair." + + + + + CHILD'S TALENT + + + God intrusts to all + Talents, few or many; + None so young or small, + That they have not any. + + Though the great and wise + May have more in number, + Yet my own I prize, + And they must not slumber. + + Little drops of rain. + Bring the springing flowers; + And I may attain + Much by little powers. + + Every little mite, + Every little measure, + Helps to spread the light, + Helps to swell the treasure. + + + + + THE STARS ARE COMING. + + + "See, the stars are coming + In the far blue skies; + Mother, look! they brighten; + Are they angels' eyes?" + + "No, my child; the lustre + Of the stars is given, + Like the hues of flowers, + By the God of heaven." + + "Mother, if I study, + Sure He'll make me know + Why the stars He kindled, + O'er our earth to glow?" + + "Child! what God created, + Has a glorious aim; + Thine it is to worship,-- + Thine to love His name." + + + + + THE FLOWERS. + + + God might have made the earth bring forth + Enough for great and small, + The oak tree and the cedar tree, + Without a flower at all. + + He might have made enough,--enough + For every want of ours,-- + For luxury, medicine, and food, + And yet have made no flowers. + + Then wherefore, wherefore were they made, + And dyed with rainbow light, + All fashioned with supremest grace, + Upspringing day and night. + + In fertile valleys, green and low, + And on the mountains high, + And in the silent wilderness, + Where no one passes by. + + Our outward life requires them not,-- + Then wherefore had they birth? + To minister delight to man, + And beautify the earth. + + To comfort man,--to whisper hope, + Whene'er his faith is dim; + For He, who careth for the flowers, + Will surely care for him. + + + + + LITTLE BY LITTLE. + + + One step, and then another, + And the longest walk is ended; + One stitch and then another, + And the largest rent is mended + One brick upon another, + And the highest wall is made; + One flake upon another, + And the deepest snow is laid. + + So the little coral workers, + By their slow, but constant, motion, + Have built those pretty islands + In the distant, dark blue ocean; + And the noblest undertakings + Man's wisdom hath conceived, + By oft-repeated efforts + Have been patiently achieved. + + + + + NEVER, MY CHILD, FORGET TO PRAY. + + + Never, my child, forget to pray, + Whate'er the business of the day; + If happy dreams have blessed thy sleep, + Or startling fears have made thee weep. + + With holy thoughts begin the day, + And ne'er, my child, forget to pray; + Ask Him, by whom the birds are fed, + To give to thee thy daily bread. + + If wealth her bounty should bestow, + Praise Him from whom all blessings flow; + If He, who gave, should take away, + Never, my child, forget to pray. + + The time will come, when thou wilt miss + A father's and a mother's kiss; + And then, my child, perchance thou'lt see, + Some who, in prayer, ne'er bend the knee; + From such examples turn away, + And ne'er, my child, forget to pray. + + + + + THE CHILD'S PRAYER. + + + I am a very little child, + Yet God, who dwells above, + Will hear me, if I rightly pray, + And answer me in love. + + Heavenly Father! wilt thou bless + My father and my mother; + And also bless my sister dear; + And bless my baby brother. + + Forgive me, if I've been to-day + A very naughty child; + And teach me how I may become + A boy both good and mild. + + And keep me out of every ill; + And teach me how to pray, + That I may be a better child + On every coming day. + + + + + A CHILD-LIKE SPIRIT. + + + Father, I know that all my life + Is portioned out for me, + The changes that will surely come, + I do not fear to see; + I ask Thee for a present mind, + Intent on pleasing thee. + + I ask thee for a thoughtful love, + Through constant watching wise, + To meet the glad with joyful smiles, + And wipe the weeping eyes; + A heart at leisure from itself, + To soothe and sympathize. + + I would not have the restless will + That hurries to and fro, + And seeks for some great thing to do, + Or secret thing to know: + I would be treated as a child, + And guided where I go. + + Wherever in the world I am, + In whatsoe'er estate, + I have a fellowship with hearts + To keep and cultivate; + A work of lowly love to do, + For Him on whom I wait. + + I ask Thee for the daily strength + To none that ask denied; + A mind to blend with outward life, + While keeping at Thy side; + Content to fill a little space, + If Thou be glorified. + + And if some things I do not ask + In my cup of blessing be, + I'd have my spirit filled the more + With grateful love to Thee,-- + More careful not to serve Thee much, + But please Thee perfectly. + + + + + LIVE FOR SOMETHING. + + + Live for something, be not idle, + Look about thee for employ, + Sit not down to useless dreaming,-- + Labor is the sweetest joy. + Folded hands are ever weary, + Selfish hearts are never gay, + Life for thee hath many duties,-- + Active be, then, whilst thou may. + + Scatter blessings in thy pathway! + Gentle words and cheering smiles + Better are than gold and silver, + With their grief-dispelling wiles. + As the pleasant sunshine falleth + Ever on the grateful earth, + So let sympathy and kindness + Gladden well the darkened hearth. + + Hearts there are oppressed and weary,-- + Drop the tear of sympathy; + Whisper words of hope and comfort; + Give, and thy reward shall be + Joy unto thy soul returning, + From this perfect fountain-head; + Freely, as thou freely givest, + Shall the grateful light be shed. + + + + + THE BEAUTIFUL. + + + The beautiful! the beautiful! + Where do we find it not? + It is an all-pervading grace, + And lighteth every spot. + + It sparkles on the ocean wave, + It glitters in the dew; + We see it in the glorious sky. + And in the floweret's hue. + + On mountain-top, in valley deep, + We find its presence there; + The beautiful! the beautiful! + It liveth every where. + + The glories of the noontide day, + The still and solemn night; + The changing seasons,--all can bring + Their tribute of delight. + + There's beauty in the child's first smile; + And in that look of faith, + The Christian's last on earth, before + His eyes are closed in death. + + And in the beings that we love, + Who have our tenderest care, + The beautiful! the beautiful! + How sweet to trace it there! + + 'Twas in the glance that God threw o'er + The young created earth; + When He proclaimed it very good, + The beautiful had birth. + + Then who shall say this world is dull, + And all to sadness given, + While yet there grows on every side, + The smile that came from heaven? + + If so much loveliness is sent + To grace our earthly home, + How beautiful! how beautiful! + Will be the world to come. + + + + + 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 the life + Which you can never give. + + Don't kill the birds!--the pretty birds, + That play among the trees! + 'Twould make the earth a cheerless place, + Should we dispense with these. + + Don't kill the birds!--the happy birds, + That bless the field and grove; + So innocent to look upon,-- + They claim our warmest love. + + + + + LITTLE ACTS OF KINDNESS. + + + Little acts of kindness, + Trifling though they are, + How they serve to brighten + This dark world of care! + Little acts of kindness, + Oh, how potent they, + To dispel the shadows + Of life's cloudy day. + + Little acts of kindness, + How they cheer the heart! + What a world of gladness + Will a smile impart! + How a gentle accent + Calms the troubled soul, + When the waves of passion + O'er it wildly roll! + + You may have around you + Sunshine, if you will, + Or a host of shadows, + Gloomy,--dreary,--chill. + If you want the sunshine, + Smile, though sad at heart; + To the poor and needy + Kindly aid impart. + + To the soul-despairing + Breathe a hopeful word; + From your lips be only + Tones of kindness heard. + Ever give for anger, + Love and tenderness; + And, in blessing others. + You yourself will bless. + + Little acts of kindness, + Nothing do they cost; + Yet when they are wanting, + Life's best charm is lost. + Little acts of kindness, + Richest gems of earth; + Though they seem but trifles, + Priceless is their worth. + + * * * * * + + If wisdom's ways you wisely seek, + Five things observe with care:-- + To whom you speak,--of whom you speak,-- + And how,--and when,--and where. + + + + + THE BLESSINGS. + + + Blessed are the poor in spirit, + They the kingdom shall possess, + Rich in faith and heavenly blessings, + Let us ever forward press. + + Blessed are the sad and mournful, + Weeping o'er their treasures gone + For the darkness gathered o'er them + Is the harbinger of morn. + + Blessed are the meek and lowly, + They the green earth shall inherit; + Full of love, and peace, and gladness, + Fruits of God's most Holy Spirit. + + Blessed they who thirst and hunger; + All their wants shall be supplied; + Never yet have been forsaken + They, who on their God relied. + + Blessed they who, loving mercy, + Joy not in another's pain; + All the mercy shown to others + They shall for themselves obtain. + + Blessed are the pure and prayerful, + Seeking God in every place; + They shall in their home eternal + See Him ever face to face. + + Blessed are the good peace-makers, + For God's children they shall be; + Of His glory full partakers, + When from earth their spirits flee. + + Blessed ye, when men revile you, + Treat you falsely for My sake; + For the prophets gone before you + Did the self-same treatment take. + + Let us then be ever mindful + Of the precepts Christ has given; + So that when this life is over, + We may dwell with Him in heaven. + + + + + 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. + + I'll tell him we always must try to please God, + And never be cruel or rude; + For God is the Father of all living things, + He cares for and blesses the good. + + + + + HARVEST-FIELD OF TIME + + + Children, all of us are gleaners + In the harvest-field of time; + Day by day the grain is ripening + For a sunnier clime. + + Whether in the early morning, + Going forth with busy feet, + Or, as weary laborers, resting + 'Mid the noon-day heat; + + Let us strive, with cheerful spirits, + Each our duties to fulfil, + Till the time of harvest,--subject + To the Master's will. + + Let us garner up sweet memories, + Bound with ties of love; + Pleasant thoughts to cheer the pathway + To our home above. + + Trusting that these precious gleanings, + Bound with loving hand, + May in golden sheaves be gathered + To the spirit land. + + + + + PRAYER. + + + Watch o'er me, Heavenly Shepherd, + Extend Thy crook of love, + That so no germ of anger + A source of trial prove. + + Keep me within Thy pastures, + And feed me from Thy hand; + Let no temptation snare me, + Or tear me from Thy hand. + + May innocence and purity + My clothing ever be, + That though this earth is still my home, + I may walk close to Thee. + + + + + REFLECTIONS. + + + We're just starting into life,-- + What shall arm us for its strife? + What shall lead our steps aright? + Whence shall come a guiding light? + + Whence shall come the saving word? + How the voice of God be heard? + Not from sages,--not from books, + Nor twinkling stars, nor babbling brooks. + + These all speak His power and love, + Who rules below, and rules above; + But to know His holy will, + Oft in silence deep and still, + + We must turn an ear within; + There, midst life's disturbing din, + The "still, small voice," in whispers sweet + Shall point our way and guide our feet. + + + + + WHAT IS HEAVEN? + + + Love is heaven, and heaven is love, + This is all of heaven above; + There no envy, wrath, nor strife, + Mars the bliss of endless life. + + There no anger swells the breast, + There no pride disturbs the rest; + Nor can hatred dwell above, + In that world of perfect love. + + + + + THE CHILD'S MONITOR. + + + The wind blows down the largest tree, + And yet the wind I cannot see. + + Playmates far off, that have been kind, + My thought can bring before my mind. + + The past, by it, is present brought, + And yet I cannot see my thought. + + The charming rose perfumes the air, + Yet I can see no perfume there. + + Blithe Robin's notes,--how sweet! how clear! + From his small bill they reach my ear; + + And while upon the air they float, + I hear, yet cannot see, a note. + + When I would do what is forbid, + By something in my heart I'm chid; + + When good I think, then quick and pat, + That something says, "My child, do that." + + When I too near the stream would go, + So pleased to see the waters flow, + + That something says without a sound, + "Take care, dear child, thou mayst be drowned!" + + And for the poor whene'er I grieve, + That something says, "A penny give." + + Thus spirits good and ill there be, + Although invisible to me; + + Whate'er I do, they see me still, + But oh, good spirits! guide my will. + + + + + GIVE US OUR DAILY BREAD. + + + I knew a widow very poor, + Who four small children had; + The eldest was but six years old, + A gentle, modest lad. + + And very hard this widow toiled + To feed her children four: + An honest pride the woman felt, + 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, + 'Twas searched by every breeze; + When going in, the eldest child + I saw upon his knees. + + I paused, and listened to the boy,-- + He never raised his head; + But still went on and said,--"_Give us_ + _This day our daily bread._" + + I waited till the child was done, + Still listening as he prayed; + And when he rose, I asked him why + The Lord's Prayer he 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 makes me think that _He_, + As we have got no father here, + Would our kind father be. + + "And then, you know, the prayer, sir, too, + 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. + + "_I thought God heard me_," said the boy; + I answered with a nod; + I could not speak; but much I thought + Of that child's _faith in God_. + + + + + TRUE REST. + + + Sweet is the pleasure + Itself cannot spoil! + Is not true leisure + One with true toil? + + Thou, that would taste it, + Still do thy best; + Use it, not waste it, + Else, 'tis no rest. + + Wouldst behold beauty + Near thee, all round? + Only hath duty + Such a sight found. + + Rest is not quitting + The busy career; + Rest is the fitting + Of self to its sphere. + + 'Tis the brook's motion, + Clear without strife, + Fleeing to ocean, + After its life. + + Deeper devotion + Nowhere hath knelt, + Fuller emotion + Heart never felt. + + 'Tis loving and serving, + The highest and best! + 'Tis onward,--unswerving,-- + And that is true rest. + + + + + ONE BY ONE. + + + One by one the sands are flowing, + One by one the moments fall; + Some are coming, some are going,-- + Do not strive to grasp them all. + + One by one thy duties wait thee, + Let thy whole strength go to each + Let no future dreams elate thee, + Learn thou first what these can teach + + One by one (bright gifts from heaven) + Joys are sent thee here below; + Take them readily when given, + Ready, too, to let them go. + + One by one thy griefs shall meet thee. + Do not fear an armed band; + One will fade as others greet thee, + Shadows passing through the land. + + Do not look at life's long sorrow; + See how small each moment's pain; + God will help thee for to-morrow, + Every day begin again. + + Every hour that flits so slowly, + Has its task to do or bear; + Luminous the crown, and holy, + If thou set each gem with care. + + Do not linger with regretting, + Or for passing hours despond! + Nor, thy daily toil forgetting, + Look too eagerly beyond. + + Hours are golden links, God's token, + Reaching Heaven; one by one + Take them, lest the chain be broken + Ere the pilgrimage be done. + + + + + GOD SEEN IN HIS WORKS. + + + There's not a tint that paints the rose, + Or decks the lily fair, + Or streaks the humblest flower that blows, + But God has placed it there. + + At early dawn, there's not a gale + Across the landscape driven, + And not a breeze that sweeps the vale, + That is not sent by Heaven. + + There's not, of grass, a single blade, + Or leaf of loveliest green, + Where heavenly skill is not displayed, + And heavenly wisdom seen. + + There's not a tempest, dark and dread, + Or storm that rends the air, + Or blast that sweeps the ocean's bed, + But God's own voice is there. + + Around,--beneath,--below,--above,-- + Wherever space extends, + There God displays His boundless love, + And power with mercy blends. + + + + + THE LITTLE SUNBEAM. + + + A little sunbeam stole + On a summer's day, + Through a tiny crevice, + To where a sick man lay. + + It played upon the wall, + And upon his table: + With a smile he watched it + As long as he was able. + + Much he loved the sunbeam, + Little dancing light; + It told of sunny hours, + Of skies and meadows bright. + + Kind words are like sunbeams, + Stealing into hearts; + Scatter them most freely, + Ere light of life departs. + + + + + COMPASSION. + + + Oh! turn that little foot aside, + Nor crush beneath its tread, + The smallest insect of the earth, + Which has from God its bread. + + If He, who made the universe, + Looks down in kindest love, + To shape a humble thing like this, + From His high throne above, + + Thou shouldst not dare, in wantonness, + That creature's life destroy; + Nor give a pang to any thing + That He has made for joy. + + My child, begin in little things + To act the gentle part; + For God may turn His love away + From the cruel, selfish heart. + + + + + I WILL BE GOOD TO-DAY. + + + "I will be good, dear mother," + I heard a sweet child say, + "I 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 guile. + + 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 + 'Twould save us, did we say, + Like that dear child, with earnest heart, + "I will be good to-day." + + + + + I'LL DO WHAT I CAN. + + + I may, if I have but a mind, + Do good in many ways; + Plenty to do, the young may find, + In these our busy days. + Sad would it be, though young and small, + If I were of no use at all. + + One gentle word that I may speak, + Or one kind loving deed, + May, though a trifle, poor and weak, + Prove like a tiny seed; + And who can tell what good may spring + From such a very little thing? + + Then let me try, each day and hour, + To act upon this plan; + What little good is in my power, + To do it while I can: + If to be useful thus I try, + I may do better by and by. + + + + + TIME TO ARISE. + + + Come, little sister, 'tis time to arise, + The sun has arisen to brighten the skies; + Every bird is singing high,-- + Birds are glad, and so am I. + + Merrily, merrily, those in the tree, + Bluebird and Robin, are singing to me; + Round the window see them fly,-- + Birds are glad, and so am I. + + Glad little robin, you never can know + Who is the Maker who fashioned you so; + Yet you cannot weep nor sigh,-- + Birds are glad, and so am I. + + He who created the birds of the air, + Surely will keep me from trouble and care; + He has taught the birds to fly,-- + Birds are glad, and so am I. + + + + + DIVINE GUIDANCE. + + + O Thou, who hast at Thy command, + The hearts of all men in Thy hand! + Our wayward, erring hearts incline + To know no other will but Thine. + + Our wishes, our desires control; + Mould every purpose of the soul; + O'er all may we victorious be, + That stands between ourselves and Thee. + + Thrice blest will all our blessings be, + When we can look through them to Thee; + When each glad heart its tribute pays + Of love, and gratitude, and praise. + + + + + INDUSTRY. + + + Up, be doing, little children: + Up, be doing, while 'tis day; + Do the work the Master gives you, + Do not loiter by the way: + For we all have work before us, + Thou, my child, as well as I; + Let us seek to learn our duty, + And perform it cheerfully. + + Be up and doing, little children, + Gentle be, and ever kind; + Helpful to your loving mothers, + E'en their slightest wishes mind. + Let your little playmates love you, + For your care and gentle play; + And the feeble and more wilful, + Help them by your kindly way. + + + + + "PRAYER IS THE SOUL'S SINCERE DESIRE." + + + Prayer is the soul's sincere desire, + Uttered or unexpressed; + The motion of a hidden fire + That glows within the breast. + + Prayer is the burden of a sigh, + The falling of a tear, + The upward glancing of an eye, + When none but God is near. + + Prayer is the simplest form of speech + That infant lips can try; + Prayer, the sublimest strains that reach + The Majesty on high. + + + + + ANGRY WORDS. + + + Angry words! O let them never + From the tongue unbridled slip; + May the heart's best impulse ever + Check them, e'er they soil the lip. + + Love is much too pure and holy, + Friendship is too sacred far, + For a moment's reckless folly + Thus to desolate and mar. + + Angry words are lightly spoken, + Bitterest thoughts are rashly stirred; + Brightest links of life are broken + By a single angry word. + + + + + THE REQUEST. + + + Father, whate'er of earthly bliss + Thy sovereign will denies, + Accepted at Thy throne of grace + Let this petition rise. + + Give me a calm, a thankful heart, + From every murmur free; + The blessings of Thy grace impart, + And make me live to Thee. + + Let the sweet hope that Thou art mine, + My life and death attend; + Thy presence through my journey shine, + And crown my journey's end. + + + + + Transcriber's Note: + +Words in italics are surrounded by underscores, _like this_. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Devotional Poetry for the Children, by Various + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44835 *** |