Part 2

“My flowers--who’ll buy?” cried a sweet little child, An orphan left friendless and poor; “I’ve roses and pinks, and sweet-brier wild, And heaven will bless you thrice o’er. Then pray buy my roses, indeed they’re not dear; Each bud shall be moistened with gratitude’s tear.

“Oh, pray buy my roses--for hard is my fate, My poor little sisters want bread; Bestow but a mite, before ’tis too late; Our parents to heaven are fled. Then pray buy my roses, indeed they’re not dear; Each bud shall be moistened with gratitude’s tear.”

THE BLACKBERRY-GIRL

“Why, Phebe, are you come so soon? Where are your berries, child? You cannot, sure, have sold them all, You had a basket piled.”

“No, mother, as I climbed the fence, The nearest way to town, My apron caught upon the stake, And so I tumbled down.

“I scratched my arm, and tore my hair, But still did not complain; And had my blackberries been safe, Should not have cared a grain.

“But when I saw them on the ground, All scattered by my side, I picked my empty basket up, And down I sat and cried.

“Just then a pretty little maid Chanced to be walking by; She stopped, and looking pitiful, She begged me not to cry.

“‘Poor little girl, you fell,’ said she, ‘And must be sadly hurt;’ ’O no,‘ I cried; ’but see my fruit, All mixed with sand and dirt.’

“‘Well, do not grieve for that,’ she said, ‘Go home, and get some more.’ ’Ah, no, for I have stripped the vines, These were the last they bore.

“’My father, Miss, is very poor, And works in yonder stall; He has so many little ones, He cannot clothe us all.

“’I always longed to go to church, But never could I go; For when I asked him for a gown, He always answered, “No;

“There’s not a father in the world That loves his children more; I’d get you one with all my heart, But, Phebe, I am poor.”

“’But when the blackberries were ripe, He said to me one day, “Phebe, if you will take the time That’s given you for play,

“And gather blackberries enough, And carry them to town, To buy your bonnet and your shoes, I’ll try to get a gown.”

“’Oh, Miss, I fairly jumped for joy, My spirits were so light; And so, when I had leave to play, I picked with all my might.

“’I sold enough to get my shoes, About a week ago; And these, if they had not been spilt, Would buy a bonnet, too.

“‘But now they’re gone, they all are gone, And I can get no more, And Sundays I must stay at home Just as I did before.’

“And, mother, then I cried again As hard as I could cry; And looking up, I saw a tear Was standing in her eye.

“She caught her bonnet from her head, ‘Here, here,’ she cried, ‘take this!’ ‘O no, indeed, for your mamma Would be offended, Miss.’

“’My mother? never; she delights All sorrow to beguile; And ’tis the sweetest joy she feels, To make the wretched smile.

“’She taught me when I had enough, To share it with the poor; And never let a needy child Go empty from the door.

“‘So take it, for you need not fear Offending her, you see; I have another, too, at home, And one’s enough for me.’

“So then I took it--here it is-- For pray what could I do? And, mother, I shall love that girl As long as I love you.”

HOW SELFISH IT IS!

I’ve a home and kind friends, and abundance to eat, And clothing sufficient, both decent and neat, And books, that my mind may to knowledge aspire, And all that a child can in reason desire; But to care for _my_ comfort, and only for this, And forget my poor neighbors, how selfish it is!

I have got a plum-cake, and the whole is my own, And no one will know, if I eat it alone; But what if the cake be so sweet and so nice, I dare say poor John would be glad of a slice: My treat he shall share, a large slice shall be his, For to eat all one’s self, oh, how selfish it is!

My aunt kindly gave me a quarter last night, For she knew that I wanted to buy a new kite; But a poor aged widow lives over the way, And she says she has not had a morsel to-day: “Here, dry up your tears, and buy something with this, For to spend all on playthings, how selfish it is!”

As Christ has commanded, I’ll constantly try My neighbor to love and myself to deny; From my own little pleasures a trifle I’ll spare, To gladden his heart and to lighten his care; That whate’er my friends find in my conduct amiss, They never may say, oh, how selfish he is!

THINKING OF MERCIES

Whene’er I take my walks abroad, How many poor I see; How shall I render to my God For all his gifts to me?

Not more than others I deserve, Yet God has given me more; For I have food, while others starve, Or beg from door to door.

While some poor creatures scarce can tell Where they may lay their head, I have a home wherein to dwell, And rest upon my bed.

While others early learn to swear, And curse, and lie, and steal, Lord, I am taught thy name to fear, And do thy holy will.

Are these thy favors, day by day, To me above the rest? Then let me love thee more than they, And try to serve thee best.

—_Watts._

HOUR BY HOUR

The seconds fly--a minute’s gone; The minutes fly--an hour is run; The day is fled--the night is here: Thus flies a week--a month--a year!

HOUR BY HOUR

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.

MORNING

Awake! awake! my love; The Saviour from above, Would lend his gracious ear To listen to your prayer: Rise and unbosom every care.

Awake! awake! my love; The Saviour from above, In accents kind and mild, Would own you as his child, Though you’re by nature all defiled.

Awake! awake! my love; The Saviour from above Can pardon all your sin, And bid your soul be clean; His blood can cleanse from every stain.

EYE-PEEP HOUR

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. 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 _try_, Glad that children such as I, In our feeble ways, and small, Can serve him who loves us all.

THE COLD WATER BOY

Hurrah, for a splash! Come, give me a dash With the water all clear and cold; It makes me so bright, So active and light, ’Tis better than silver and gold.

Oh, what should I do, Dear mother, if you Never washed me so sweet and so clean? Come, give me a splashing; It is so refreshing, All the day I would like to stay in.

I never would cry, Nor halloo--not I-- Unless ’twere for joy and for glee; I love the good splashing, And plunging and dashing: Hurrah for cold water for me!

WHAT I HATE

I hate to see a little girl That does not love to rise, And dash the water, fresh and sweet, Upon her face and eyes.

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-- What’s 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,

That all who see her gentle look And pretty actions too, Will feel that she’s a darling child-- Kind, honest, loving, true.

FOLDED WINGS

What does little birdie say, In her nest at peep of day? “Let me fly,” says little birdie; “Mother, let me fly away.” “Birdie, rest a little longer, Till thy little wings are stronger.” So she rests a little longer, Then she flies away.

What does little baby say, In her bed at peep of day? Baby says, like little birdie, “Let me rise and fly away.” “Baby, sleep a little longer, Till thy little limbs are stronger. If she sleeps a little longer, Baby, too, shall fly away.”

—_Tennyson._

UP EARLY

Little birds are wide awake Early in the morning; Just think how funny it would be To see the robins yawning!

TIME

“Sixty seconds make a minute, Sixty minutes make an hour;” If I were a little linnet, Hopping in her leafy bower, Then I should not have to sing it: “Sixty seconds make a minute.”

Twenty-four hours make a day, Seven days will make a week; And while we all at marbles play, Or run at cunning “hide and seek,” Or in the garden gather flowers, We’ll tell the time that makes the hours.

In every month the weeks are four, And twelve whole months will make a year; Now I must say it o’er and o’er, Or else it never will be clear; So once again I will begin it: “Sixty seconds make a minute.”

[Music: LITTLE DROPS OF WATER

Rev. Eben C. Brewer English

1. Little drops of water, Little grains of sand, Make the mighty ocean And the pleasant land.

2. Thus the little minutes, Humble though they be, Make the mighty ages Of eternity.

3. Little deeds of kindness, Little words of love, Make our earth an Eden Like to Heav’n above.]

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.

HAPPY HELEN

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,

“Without any fretting or crying: Oh, no, For _that_ makes me wretched wherever I go; And it _would_ be a pity to spoil the day so.

“I don’t choose to be such a baby, not I, To be peevish and cross, and just ready to cry; And mamma will be pleased that at least I should try.”

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.”

THE HONEST BOY

Once there was a little boy With curly hair and pleasant eye, A boy who always told the truth, And never, never told a lie.

And when he trotted off to school, The children all about would cry, “There goes the curly-headed boy, The boy that never tells a lie.”

And everybody loved him so, Because he always told the truth, That every day, as he grew up, ’Twas said, “There goes the honest youth.”

And when the people that stood near Would turn to ask the reason why, The answer would be always this, “Because he never tells a lie.”

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?

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 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.

TWO LITTLE TEMPERS

Bad temper, go, You never shall stay with me; Bad temper, go, You and I shall ne’er 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, Go away! Temper good, Happy and gay, Come, sweet temper, come and stay.

MEDDLESOME MATTIE

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.

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 farther 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.

A GOOD NAME

Children, choose it, Don’t refuse it, ’Tis a precious diadem; Highly prize it, Don’t despise it, You will need it when you’re men.

Love and cherish, Keep and nourish, ’Tis more precious far than gold; Watch and guard it, Don’t discard it, You will need it when you’re old.

TRUST AND TRY

“Cannot,” Edward, did you say? Chase the lazy thought away; Never let that idle word From your lips again be heard. Take your book from off the shelf, God helps him who helps himself; O’er your lesson do not sigh: Trust and try--trust and try.

“Cannot,” Edward? Say not so: All are weak, full well I know; But if you will seek the Lord, He will needful strength afford, Teach you how to conquer sin, Purify your heart within: On your Father’s help rely, Trust and try--trust and try.

“Cannot,” Edward? Scorn the thought; You can do whatever you ought: Every duty’s call obey, Strive to walk in wisdom’s way; Let the sluggard, if he will, Use the lazy “cannot” still; On yourself and God rely: Trust and try--trust and try.

PERSEVERE

Go on, go on, go on, go on, Go on, go on, go on, Go on, go on, go on, go on, Go on, _go on_, GO ON!

THE GENEROUS HEART

Be the portion small or great, The loving, generous heart Will always find it large enough To give away a part.

BUSY LITTLE FARMER

I’m a little husbandman, Work and labor hard I can; I’m as happy all the day At my work as if ’twere play: Though I’ve nothing fine to wear, Yet for that I do not care.

When to work I go along, Singing loud my morning song, With my wallet on my back, And my wagon-whip to crack, Oh, I’m thrice as happy then As the idle gentleman.

I’ve a hearty appetite And I soundly sleep at night; Down I lie content, and say I’ve been useful all the day: I’d rather be a ploughboy, than A useless little gentleman.

IS IT YOU?

There is a child, a boy or girl-- I’m sorry it is true-- Who does not mind when spoken to: I hope it isn’t you!

There is a child, a boy or girl-- I trust that such are few-- Who struck a little playmate friend: I hope it wasn’t you!

I know a child, a boy or girl-- I’m sorry that I do-- Who told a lie; yes, told a lie! It cannot be ’twas you!

There is a boy--I know the boy-- I cannot love him, though-- Who robs the little birdie’s nest: That bad boy can’t be you!

There is a girl, a girl I know, And I could love her too, But that she’s very proud and vain: That surely isn’t you!

DAISY’S PRAYER

Darling little Daisy, With her golden hair, Sitting at the table In her own high chair;

Closed the dewy eyelids Over blue eyes bright, Drooped the golden lashes Over cheeks so white,

Bent above the table Little head so fair; Daisy’s supper’s waiting Till she says her prayer.

So she clasps her fingers As when wont to pray; “Oh, dear me,” sighs Daisy, “What does papa say?”

Lower bows her forehead O’er the table then; And she whispers softly, “Jesus’ sake, Amen.”

Darling little Daisy, With your winsome face, May the blessed Saviour Daily give his grace!

May you never venture Any path to take Till you ask God’s blessing For dear Jesus’ sake.

THE SHADOWS

The candles are lighted, the fires blaze bright, The curtains are drawn to keep out the cold air; What makes you so grave, little darling, to-night? And where is your smile, little quiet one, where?

“Mamma, I see something so dark on the wall; It moves up and down, and it looks very strange; Sometimes it is big, sometimes it is small; Pray tell me what is it, and why does it change?”

It’s only my shadow that puzzles you so; And there is your own close beside it, my love: Now run ’round the room, it will go where you go; When you sit ’twill be still, when you rise it will move.

And when you are out some fine day in the sun, I’ll take you where shadows of apple-trees lie; And houses and cottages, too, every one Casts a shade when the sun’s shining bright in the sky.

Now hold up your mouth and give me a sweet kiss-- Our shadows kiss too--don’t you see it quite plain? “Oh, yes; and I thank you for telling me this; I’ll not be afraid of a shadow again.”

CHILD’S SELF-EXAMINATION

Ere I in sleep my eyelids fold These things I must in memory hold: What I’ve been doing all the day-- What were my acts at work or play? What have I learnt that’s worth the knowing? What have I done that’s worth the doing? What have I done that I should not? What duty was this day forgot? Ere I in sleep my eyelids fold These things I must in memory hold: If I’ve done ill, then I must pray That God would wash my sins away, And for the merits of his Son Forgive the evil I have done; Then, pardoned daily, filled with love, I’ll be prepared to dwell above, And there, with angels ‘round the throne, The love of God forever own.

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.

GOOD-NIGHT

Good-night, my dear mother--dear mother, good-night; You may take out the lamp and shut the door tight: Your dear little Ellen will not be afraid, Though left quite alone in her own quiet bed.

Afraid, my dear mother, afraid, when I know God watches on high, while you watch below? And though the thick darkness all round me is spread, I know that from him I can never be hid.

WHY SHOULD I FEAR?

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?

A SONG TO BRING SLEEP

Two little eyes, Two little lips, Two little hands, Two little feet: What shall we ask for them all?

Two little eyes, Blue, blue, Blue as the azure deep of the skies-- Now so roguish, now wondrous wise, Solemn and funny, all in a twink, Changing and changing with every wink: What shall we ask for these little eyes?

Open them, Lord, To see in thy Word Wondrous things; Light them with love, And shade them above With angels’ wings.

Two little lips, Red, red, Red as the flamy coral tips, Sweet as the rose the wild bee sips, Singing and prattling all day long, And kissing and coaxing with witchery strong: What shall we ask for these little lips?

From thine altar, Lord, above, Touch those lips with fire of love; Pure, pure let them be, Speaking holy melodies Out of a holy heart that rise, Warm, bright, up to thee!