Šrift:Väiksem АаSuurem Aa
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.