Part 5

The fishes in the little brook are jumping up so high, The lark is singing sweetly as she mounts into the sky; The rooks are building up their nests upon the great oak-tree, And everything’s as busy and as happy as can be.

There’s not a cloud upon the sky, there’s nothing dark or sad; I jump, and scarce know what to do, I feel so very glad. God must be very good indeed, who made each pretty thing; I’m sure we ought to love him much for bringing back the spring.

THE ARK AND THE 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._

MERRY RAINDROPS

“Oh, where do you come from, You little drops of rain? Pitter patter, pitter patter, Down the window-pane.

“They won’t let me walk, And they won’t let me play, And they won’t let me go Outdoors at all to-day.

“They put away my playthings Because I broke them all, And they locked up all my bricks And took away my ball.

“Tell me, little raindrops, Is that the way you play, Pitter patter, pitter patter, All the rainy day?

“They say I’m very naughty; But I’ve nothing else to do But sit here at the window; I should like to play with you.”

The little raindrops cannot speak, But “pitter patter pat” Means, “We can play on _this_ side: Why can’t you play on THAT?”

THE SNOWDROP

Now the spring is coming on, Now the snow and ice are gone, Come, my little snowdrop-root, Will you not begin to shoot?

Ah, I see your little head Peeping from the flower-bed, Looking out so green and gay On this fine and pleasant day.

For the mild south wind doth blow And hath melted all the snow; And the sun shines out so warm, You need not fear another storm.

So your pretty flowers show And your petals white undo; Then you’ll hang your modest head Down upon my flower-bed.

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, oh, may I be Graced with humble modesty.

When ’tis evening, dark and chill, Close you wrap yourself from ill; So may God my heart secure Safe from everything impure.

And as, when the sun is up, You expand your little cup, So thy beams may I possess, Christ the Sun of righteousness.

THE VIOLET

Timid, blue-eyed flower In thy native bower ’Mid the moss so green, Say, what art thou doing? Why so lowly bowing Ever art thou seen?

Joy within me springeth When so sweetly singeth Lone the nightingale; To her song attending I am lowly bending In my peaceful vale.

—_Jane Taylor._

AN APRIL SHOWER

K. E. C.

Pitter, patter, patter, let it pour, Pitter, patter, patter, let it roar! Down the steep roof let it rush, Down the hillside let it gush! ’Tis the welcome April shower Which will wake the sweet May flower.

THE THUNDERSTORM

Look! the black cloud rises high; Now it spreads along the sky: See! the quivering lightnings fly; Hark! the thunders roar. Yet will I not shrink with fear When the thunderclap I hear; Soon the rainbow will appear, Soon the storm be o’er.

When the black cloud rises high, When it spreads along the sky, When the forkèd lightnings fly, And the thunders roar, Never will I feel alarm; God can shield me from all harm In the sunshine or the storm: Him will I adore.

SUMMER-TIME

I love the cheerful summer-time, With all its birds and flowers, Its shining garments green and smooth, Its cool, refreshing showers.

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 the bright and glorious sun That gives us light and heat; I love the pearly drops of dew That sparkle ’neath my feet.

I love to hear the busy hum Of honey-making bee, And learn a lesson, hard to learn, Of patient industry.

I love to see the playful lambs, So innocent and gay; I love the faithful, watchful dog Who guards them night and day.

I love to think of Him who made These pleasant things for me; Who gave me life and health and strength, And eyes that I might see.

I love the holy Sabbath-day, So peaceful, calm, and still; And oh, I love to go to church And learn my Maker’s will!

HAPPY CHILDHOOD

Over field and meadow, Where the daisies grow, Up and down I wander, Singing as I go.

They who see me roving Think me all alone, But the birds are with me; Hark! their joyful tone.

How can I be lonely On the sunny banks, While the murmuring waters Raise a song of thanks?

SEVEN TIMES ONE

There’s no dew left on the daisies and clover, There’s no rain left in heaven; I’ve said my “seven times” over and over-- Seven times one are seven.

I am old, so old I can write a letter; My birthday-lessons are done. The lambs play always, they know no better; They are only one time’s one.

O moon in the night, I have seen you sailing And shining so round and low; You were bright, ah, bright! but your light is failing, You are nothing now but a bow.

You moon! have you done something wrong in heaven, That God has hidden your face? I hope, if you have, you will soon be forgiven And shine again in your place.

O velvet bee! you’re a dusty fellow, You’ve powdered your legs with gold! O brave marshmary-buds, rich and yellow, Give me your money to hold.

O columbine! open your folded wrapper, Where two twin turtle-doves dwell; O cuckoo-pint! toll me the purple clapper That hangs in your clear, green bell.

And show me your nest with the young ones in it; I will not steal them away; I am old; you may trust me, linnet, linnet, I am seven times one to-day.

—_Jean Ingelow._

THE SETTING SUN

Dear John, the sun is setting now, Behold him in the west; And all the children now must soon Lie down and go to rest.

In other countries far away The day begins to break; And many a child and many a bird Will soon be wide awake.

SUN, MOON, AND STARS

The moon is very fair and bright, And seems so very high; I think it is a pretty sight To see it in the sky: It shone upon me as I lay Until ’twas almost bright as day.

The stars are very pretty, too, And scattered all about; At first there seems a very few, But soon the rest come out: I’m sure I could not count them all, They are so very bright and small.

The sun is brighter still than they, He blazes in the skies; I dare not turn my face that way, Unless I shut my eyes: Yet when he shines our hearts revive, And all the trees rejoice and thrive.

God made and keeps them every one By his great power and might; He is more glorious than the sun And all the stars of light: Yet, though so great, we, by his grace, If pure in heart, shall see his face.

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 luster 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.”

LITTLE STAR

Twinkle, twinkle, little star; How I wonder what you are! Up above the world so high, Like a diamond in the sky.

When the glorious sun is set, When the grass with dew is wet, Then you show your little light, Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.

In the dark blue sky you keep, And often through my curtains peep; For you never shut your eye Till the sun is in the sky.

As your bright and tiny spark Lights the traveler in the dark, Though I know not what you are, Twinkle, twinkle, little star.

THE MOON

Who am I that shine so bright, With my pretty yellow light Peeping through your curtains gray? Tell me, little girl, I pray.

When the sun is gone, I rise In the clear and silent skies; And a cloud or two doth skim Round about my silver rim.

All the little stars do seem Hidden by my brighter beam; And among them I do ride Like a queen in all her pride.

Then the reaper goes along Singing forth a merry song, While I light the shaking leaves And the yellow harvest sheaves.

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!

“HE GIVETH US ALL THINGS”

Back of the loaf is the snowy flour, And back of the flour is the mill; And back of the mill is the sheaf, And the shower, And the sun, And the Father’s will.

WHERE IS GOD?

In the sun, the moon, and sky, On the mountains wild and high, In the thunder, in the rain, In the grove, the wood, the plain, In the little birds which sing: God is seen in everything.

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 are George and Carlo, too, For they heard the tell-tale bells, As over the shining road we flew, And down the slippery hills.

THE SLED-RIDE

Down, down the hill I swiftly 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--oh, life of joy; What pleasure has the little boy!

MY KITE

Oh, look at my kite, Almost out of sight; How swiftly it flies Right up to the skies! Pretty kite, pretty kite, Almost out of sight, Pray, what do you spy In the bright blue sky?

JOHN WHITE AND HIS KITE

John White flew his kite one very windy day, But a gale broke the tail, and it soon flew away.

And while he sat crying and sighing and sad, Charlie Gray came that way, a good-natured lad.

“Don’t cry, wipe your eye, poor little Jack; Stay here, never fear; I’ll soon bring it back.”

Up the tree went he, and took the kite down. “Many thanks, many thanks,” said dear little John.

DAPPLE GRAY

We have a little pony, and we call him Dapple Gray, And in our little carriage we drive out every day; How our happy hearts are bounding, With his clinking hoofs resounding, And his clatter, clatter, clatter, all the way.

They give our horsie water and they give our horsie hay, And they give our horsie oats for his breakfast every day; When clinking hoofs are ringing, And our happy voices singing, Then we clatter, clatter, clatter, all the way.

The nicest rides we have are in the month of May, When we drive out in the country, and always some new way; Oh, the turnings and the windings, Oh, the seekings and the findings, As we clatter, clatter, clatter, all the way.

MY LITTLE PONY

Hop, hop, hop, nimble as top, Over hill and valley bounding, With your clinking hoofs resounding: Hop, hop, hop, nimble as a top.

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.

Here, here, here; yes, my pony dear: Now with hay and oats I’ll treat you, And with smiles will ever greet you, Here, here, here; yes, my pony dear.

THE SWING

Merry it is on a summer’s day All through the meadows to wend away, To watch the brooks glide fast or slow, And the little fish twinkle down below; To hear the lark in the blue sky sing; Oh, sure enough, ’tis a merry thing, But ’tis merrier far to swing, to swing!

Down with the hoop upon the green, Down with the ringing tambourine; Little care we for this or for that; Off with the bonnet, off with the hat: Away we go, like birds on the wing! Higher yet! higher yet! Now for the king! This is the way we swing, we swing!

Scarcely the bough bends, Claude is so light; Mount up behind him--there, that is right; Down bends the branch, now swing him away. Higher yet! higher yet! higher, I say! Oh, what a joy it is! Now let us sing, “A pear for the queen and a peach for the king!” And shake the old tree as we swing, we swing.

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; By-by, little Dolly, lie still and by-by.

Now I’ll lay my clean handkerchief over your head, And then you may think that my lap is your bed; So hush, little dear, and be sure you don’t cry; By-by, little Dolly, lie still and by-by.

There, now it is morning, and time to get up; I’ll crumb you a mess in my own china cup: Awake, little baby, and open your eye, For now it is time to be done with by-by.

MY DOLL

I have a little doll, I take care of her clothes; She has soft flaxen hair, And her name is Rose.

She has pretty blue eyes, And a very small nose, And a sweet little mouth-- And her name is Rose.

I have a little bedstead Where Dolly may repose, Or sit up like a lady-- And her name is Rose.

SATURDAY NIGHT

Now, Dolly, my dear, I pray you come here; The daylight has gone, And work is all done: I’ll put you to bed, for to-morrow is Sunday, And I shall not see you again until Monday.

You don’t want to go? But you ought to, you know, For it is but right; So, Dolly, good-night: Lie still without fretting or crying till Monday, For we ought not to play, Dolly dear, on a Sunday.

MY SHADOW

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me, And what can be the use of him is more than I can see. He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head; And I see him jump before me when I jump into my bed.

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow-- Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow; For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball, And he sometimes gets so little that there’s none of him at all.

He hasn’t got a notion how children ought to play, And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way. He stays so close beside me he’s a coward, you can see; I’d think it shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!

One morning, very early, before the sun was up, I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup; But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head, Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed!

—_Robert Louis Stevenson._

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.

The sweet, fresh air so softly blows, So brightly shines the sun, That active limbs and rosy cheeks Will in the race be won.

For little girls and boys may sing And frisk and jump and play, When work and lessons both are done; So run away, I say.

[Music: LIGHTLY ROW

1. Lightly row, lightly row, O’er the glassy waves we go, Smoothly glide, smoothly glide, On the silent tide. Let the winds and waters be Mingled with our melody; Sing and float, sing and float, In our little boat.

2. Far away, far away, Echo mid the rocks at play, Calleth not, calleth not To this lonely spot. Only with the sea-birds’ note Shall our dying music float; Lightly row, lightly row, Echo’s voice is low. ]

ON EARTH AS IN HEAVEN

God’s in his heaven, All’s right with the world.

ON EARTH AS IN HEAVEN

GOD IS IN HEAVEN

God is in heaven--can he hear A feeble prayer like mine? Yes, little child, thou need’st not fear; He listeneth to thine.

God is in heaven--can he see When I am doing wrong? Yes, that he can; he looks at thee All day and all night long.

God is in heaven--would he know If I should tell a lie? Yes, if thou saidst it very low, He’d hear it in the sky.

God is in heaven--does he care, Or is he good to me? Yes, all thou hast to eat or wear, ’Tis God that giveth thee.

God is in heaven--can I go To thank him for his care? Not yet; but love him here below, And he will see it there.

God is in heaven--may I pray To go there when I die? Yes, love, be good, and then one day He’ll call thee to the sky.

GOD, THE CREATOR

God only is the maker Of all things near and far; He paints the wayside flower, He lights the evening star; The winds and waves obey him; By him the birds are fed; And to us all, his children, He gives our daily bread.

SO SAFE!

As on the mother’s breast, Safe in her watchful keeping, And softly hushed to rest, The little babe is sleeping, Without a care, without a fear, Without a thought of danger near;—

So on my Saviour’s grace, In Jesus’ love confiding, And till I see his face, Firm in his truth abiding, As safe, as happy I may be, For Jesus watches over me.

THAT SWEET STORY OF OLD

I think, when I read that sweet story of old, When Jesus was here among men, How he called little children as lambs to his fold, I should like to have been with them then.

I wish that his hands had been placed on my head, That his arms had been thrown around me, And that I might have seen his kind look when he said, “Let the little ones come unto me.”

But still to his footstool in prayer I may go, And ask for a share in his love; And if I thus earnestly seek him below, I shall see him and hear him above--

In that beautiful place he has gone to prepare For all who are washed and forgiven; And many dear children are gathering there, “For of such is the kingdom of heaven.”

But thousands and thousands who wander and fall Never heard of that heavenly home; I wish they could know there is room for them all, And that Jesus has bid them to come.

—_Mrs. Luke._

THAT SWEET STORY OF OLD

Mrs. Luke English

1. I think, when I read that sweet story of old, When Jesus was here among men, How He called little children as lambs to His fold, I should like to have been with them then.

2. But still to His footstool in pray’r I may go, And ask for a share in His love; And if I thus earnestly seek Him below, I shall see Him and hear Him above.

THE MASTER HAS COME OVER JORDAN

“The Master has come over Jordan,” Said Hannah the mother one day; “He is healing the people who throng him With a touch of his finger, they say.

“And now I shall carry the children, Little Rachel and Samuel and John; I shall carry the baby Esther For the Lord to look upon.”

The father looked at her kindly, But he shook his head and smiled. “Now who but a doting mother Would think of a thing so wild?”

“Nay, do not hinder me, Nathan! I feel such a burden of care; If I carry it to the Master, Perhaps I shall leave it there.

“If he lay his hand on the children, My heart will be lighter, I know; For a blessing forever and ever Will follow them as they go.”

So over the hills of Judah, Along the vine-rows green, With Esther asleep on her bosom, And Rachel her brothers between--

’Mong the people who hung on his teaching Or waited his touch or his word, Through the row of proud Pharisees listening-- She passed to the feet of her Lord.

“Now why shouldst thou hinder the Master,” Said Peter, “with children like these? Seest not how from morning to evening He teacheth, and healeth disease?”

Then Christ said, “Forbid not the children; Permit them to come unto me!” And he took in his arms little Esther, And Rachel he set on his knee.

And the heavy heart of the mother Was lifted all earth-care above, As he laid his hands on the brothers And blessed them with tenderest love.

LIKE JESUS

I want to be like Jesus, So lowly and so meek; For no one marked an angry word That ever 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, “She hath done what she could.”

Alas, I’m not like Jesus, As any one may see! O gentle Saviour, send thy grace And make me like to thee!

THE GOOD SHEPHERD

Jesus says that we must love him-- Helpless as the lambs are we; But he very kindly tells us That our Shepherd he will be.

Heavenly Shepherd, please to watch us, Guard us both by night and day; Pity show to little children, Who like lambs too often stray.

We are always prone to wander, Please to keep us from each snare; Teach our infant hearts to praise thee For thy kindness and thy care.

GO AND TELL JESUS

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. Oh, 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 child, when you are bad Do you think that Jesus knows it? Yes; and oh, it makes him glad When you’re sorry, and disclose it. Oh, then tell him quick, and pray To grow better every day.

NEVER FORGET TO PRAY