{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_12007/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_12007","id":"gutenberg_12007","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12007","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Children's poetry","Christianity","Hymns","Religious poetry, American -- Juvenile literature"],"text":"[Illustration: BOOK COVER.]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: MOTHER BIRDS.]\n\n\n\n\nCOUSIN HATTY'S\n\nHYMNS\n\nAND\n\nTWILIGHT STORIES.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nBOSTON:\n\n\n\n\n1851.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nMost of the simple verses which compose this volume were written for a\nvery dear child, with no thought beyond her gratification. They are\npublished at the request of friends, with the hope that other children\nmay derive the same pleasure from them as the little one for whom they\nwere first intended.\n\n_Boston, Dec. 4, 1850._\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n 1. THE FIRST HYMN\n 2. MORNING HYMN\n 3. EVENING HYMN\n 4. CROSS LOOKS\n 5. SELFISHNESS\n 6. THE CAT\n 7. STUDY FIRST\n 8. THE BABY\n 9. I AM HAPPY WHEN I DO RIGHT\n10. THE BEGGAR GIRL\n11. THE GIRL WHO WOULD NOT BE WASHED\n12. THE SPIDER\n13. MORNING HYMN\n14. EVENING HYMN\n15. THE LAUNCH\n16. SUNDAY\n17. THE MEDDLESOME CHILD\n18. GOD SEES ME ALWAYS\n19. THE ARK AND THE DOVE\n20. THE BEE\n21. SUNDAY\n22. THE PLEASANT WORLD\n23. SAMUEL\n24. THE BIRD'S NEST\n25. GOD LOVES US\n26. MOSES\n27. ANGER\n28. WHAT THE BIRDS SAY\n29. THE MONKEY\n30. THE SHEEP IN HEAVEN\n31. TWILIGHT\n32. THE WRONG STORY\n33. THE BALLAD\n34. THE CHILD'S QUESTION\n35. SUNDAY NIGHT\n36. HAGAR AND ISHMAEL\n37. EVENING HYMN\n38. THE FIRST VIOLET\n39. CHRISTMAS\n40. NEW YEAR\n41. EVENING HYMN\n42. SOAP-BUBBLES\n43. SPRING\n44. SUMMER\n45. AUTUMN\n46. WINTER\n47. \"GIVE US THIS DAY OUR DAILY BREAD\"\n48. WILLIE IN HEAVEN\n49. THE ANGELS\n50. THE CHILDHOOD OF JESUS\n51. THE FISHERS\n52. THE RAINBOW\n53. SONG FOR MAY MORNING\n54. THE CHILD AND THE FLOWER-ELF\n55. THE FOUR GIFTS\n56. THE TWO LULLABIES\n\n\n\n\nTHE FIRST HYMN.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nGod made the bright, round sun;\n  He made the pretty flowers;\nThe little birds, the trees, the clouds\n  The rain that falls in showers.\n\nHe made papa, mamma,\n  And baby brother, too;\nAnd mother says He looks from Heaven,\n  And sees each thing I do.\n\nThen I must try to be\n  Pleasant, and sweet, and mild;\nFor the good God who made me loves\n  A kind, obedient child.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nMORNING HYMN.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter N.]\n\nNow again the yellow sun\nShines upon my window-pane;\nNow anothor day's begun,\nI can laugh and play again.\n\nI must try to-day to be\nKind in all I say and do;\nThen will God be pleased with me,\nAnd mamma will love me too.\n\nFor she says that God above\nLoves to see a little child\nSweet and gentle as the dove,\nLike the pretty lamb so mild.\n\n\n\n\nEVENING HYMN.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter N.]\n\nNow the sun hath gone to rest,\nStars are coming faint and dim,\nAnd the bird within his nest\nSweetly sings his evening hymn.\n\nHave I tried mamma to mind?\nWas I gentle in my play?\nHave I been a true and kind,\nPleasant little girl to-day?\n\nThen will God take care of me\nKindly, through the long dark night;\nBright and happy, I shall see\nOnce again the morning light.\n\n\n\n\nCROSS LOOKS.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter W.]\n\nWhy, what a frightful face is this!\nAnd what has happened, sir, amiss?\nCome, let me wipe these tears away,\nAnd see no more cross looks to-day.\n\nIf Kate did throw your blocks about,\nShe's very sorry, I've no doubt;\nAnd here she stands to tell you so,\nAnd build another house, I know.\n\nNo tears and crying here must be,\nSo have a pleasant smile for me.\nThere, that will do,--now run away,\nAnd kindly with your sister play.\n\n\n\n\nI MUST NOT BE SELFISH.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration: Letter W.]\n\nWhen I play with little children\n  I must very gentle be;\nI must always do to others\n  As I'd have them do to me.\n\nI must like to give and lend them,\n  If they want my prettiest toy;\nMore than my delight and pleasure\n  I must love my playmate's joy.\n\nChildren who are kind and loving\n  God above is pleased to see;\nLet me ever this remember,\n  Ever sweet and pleasant be.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE CAT.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration: Letter S.]\n\nStop, naughty pussy! that's not fair!\nJump down this minute from the chair!\nYou've eaten my nice slice of bread.\nAnd here are only crumbs instead.\n\nI for a minute left the room\nTo listen to the \"Buy a broom,\"\nAnd now I think it's quite too bad\nThat you my luncheon should have had.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nHer mother said, \"My dear, if you\nHad done what you were told to do,\nAnd put the plate upon the shelf,\nYou might have had the bread yourself.\n\n\"But if you have no thought nor care,\nAnd leave your luncheon on a chair,\nYou must not blame poor pussy-cat;\nShe knows no better, dear, than that.\n\n\"The one who left her bread about\nUpon the chair, while she went out,--\nThe one who hangs her head for shame,--\nMy little girl's the one to blame!\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nSTUDY FIRST.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter N.]\n\nNo, Robbie! you can go away;\nI am not ready yet to play;\nFor I must learn these words to spell,\nThat I may say my lesson well.\n\nHow sad our dear mamma would look,\nTo find that I had left my book!\nAnd if I disobeyed her so,\nMy play would not be gay, I know.\n\nI'll learn my lesson very soon,\nAnd then I'll run with you till noon;\nSo, Robbie, you can go away,\nAnd presently I'll come and play.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BABY.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nWe've the dearest baby sister!\n  And so small and sweet is she,\nThat we love to stand beside her,\n  All her cunning ways to see.\n\nShe can talk in baby language,\n  She can laugh, and she can crow;\nShe's the pet and she's the darling,\n  She's the sweetest one we know.\n\nMother says that she will always\n  Be a sweet and gentle child,\nIf, in all our actions towards her,\n  We are loving, good, and mild.\n\nLet us, then, be kind and pleasant\n  Ever to our little pet;\nNor to thank the God who gave her,\n  Morn and night, let us forget.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nI AM HAPPY WHEN I DO RIGHT.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration: Letter H.]\n\nHow glad it makes me feel at night,\n  When sitting on my mother's knee,\nTo hear her whisper \"You've done right,\n  And tried my gentle child to be.\"\n\nBut then I feel ashamed and sad\n  If I've been cross and disobeyed,\nOr if my selfish way I've had\n  When I with other children played.\n\nSo if at night I'd call to mind\n  A day of undisturbed delight,\nThe only way that I can find\n  Is to be loving and do right.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE LITTLE BEGGAR-GIRL.\n\n\n[Illustration: Signed HOWLANDS.]\n\n\nI've just looked from the window\n  To see the snow come down,\nAnd make the streets look nice and white,\n  That lately were so brown.\n\nI've seen a little beggar-girl\n  Go by in all the cold;\nShe had no shoes nor stockings on,\n  Her dress was torn and old.\n\nHow thankful I should be to God,\n  Who gives me clothes and food,\nA nice warm fire, a pleasant home,\n  And parents kind and good!\n\nMamma, I'll always try to help\n  The hungry and the poor;\nFor those who are not warmed and fed,\n  I pity, I am sure.\n\n\n\nTHE CHILD WHO WOULD NOT BE WASHED\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter D.]\n\n\"Don't wash me, pray, mamma, today,\"\nI once heard little Jennie say,\n\"For oh! so very hard you rub,\nI never want to see my tub.\"\n\n\"O, very well,\" her mother said;\n\"I'll put you back again to bed;\nAnd you must in your night-gown stay,\nNor come down stairs at all to-day.\"\n\nAnd then I heard Miss Jennie cry,\nAnd beg mamma to let her try;\nAnd say, as she had done before,\nThat she'd so naughty be no more.\n\nHer mother turned and left her there;\nShe heard her step upon the stair;\nBut in her chamber, all day long,\nShe staid alone, for doing wrong.\n\nShe heard her sister jump and run,\nAnd longed to join her in her fun;\nHer brother made a snow-man high;\nBut she upon her bed must lie.\n\nShe heard the merry sleigh-bells ring,\nAnd to the door come clattering;\nBut Jennie could not go to ride\nIn night-clothes by her father's side.\n\nAnd glad was she, as you may guess,\nThe next day to put on her dress;\nShe ran and told her mother then\nShe never would do so again.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SPIDER.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nDon't kill the spider, little Fred,\n  But come and stand by me,\nAnd watch him spin that slender thread,\n  Which we can hardly see.\n\nHow patiently, now up, now down,\n  He brings that tiny line!\nHe never stops, but works right on,\n  And weaves his web so fine.\n\nYou could not make a thread so small,\n  If you should try all day;\nSo never hurt him, dear, at all,\n  But spare him in your play.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nMORNING HYMN.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter N.]\n\nNow a new day just begun,\n  I'll try to spend it well;\nThat I may have, when eveningcomes,\n  No naughty deeds to tell.\n\nSo through my life may every day\n  Be better than the past;\nThat God may take me, when I die,\n  To live in heaven at last.\n\n\n\n\nEVENING HYMN.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter T.]\n\nThe sun has set behind the hill,\n  The bird is sleeping in his nest;\nAnd now, when all around is still,\n  I lay me down to welcome rest.\n\nMay the kind God, who lives above,\n  And watches o'er us day and night,\nBless us, and grant us, in His love,\n  Again to see the morning light.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LAUNCH.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration: Letter C.]\n\nCome, sister Ellen, get your hat\n  And come away with me;\nMy boat, all rigged with mast and sail,\n  I want you so to see!\n\nDo you upon the landing stand,\n  While here I'll kneel and blow,\nSo that the little \"Water-witch\"\n  Beneath the arch may go.\n\nThere! there! she's off! how fast she goes\n  Across the river wide!\nI'd love to sit in her myself,\n  And o'er the water glide.\n\nWhen I'm a man I'll have a boat,\n  And every sunny day,\nWe'll take a long and pleasant sail,\n  Till daylight fades away.\n\n[Illustration: HOPE.]\n\n\n\n\nSUNDAY.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter G.]\n\nGod made the day of rest,\n  The holy Sabbath day,\nFor us to think and talk of Him,\n  And not for work or play.\n\nI'll put away my toys\n  Safely, the night before;\nAnd Sundays I'll be very still,\n  Till Monday comes once more.\n\nAnd then mamma will say,\n  That, though I am so small,\nI yet can please the great, good God,\n  Who takes care of us all.\n\nI love these Sabbath days,\n  Which God to us doth give;\nAnd may I love them more and more,\n  Each day and year I live!\n\n\n\n\nTHE MEDDLESOME CHILD.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter L.]\n\nLittle Lucy was left in the room once alone,\n  Where the table was set out for tea;\nShe looked all around, and she thought to herself\n  That no one was there who could see.\n\nThen she climbed on a chair and took off the top\n  Of the sugar-bowl, shining and bright;\nAnd there were the lumps of the sugar she loved,\n  All looking so nice and so white!\n\nThen she said to herself, \"Mamma never will know,\n  If I take away only just one;\"\nSo she took it, and ate it;--it tasted so good,\n  She thought, \"But one more, and I've done.\"\n\nBut while she was reaching her hand out for more,\n  The chair slipped away from her feet;\nAnd poor little Lucy soon wished much that she\n  Had not taken the sugar so sweet:\n\nFor her head struck the floor, and made such a noise,\n  That every one hastened to see;\nAnd all of them knew, by the sugar she held,\n  How naughty Miss Lucy could be!\n\nAnd no one was sorry, although her poor head\n  Ached sadly because of her fall;\nFor little girls never--so every one said--\n  Should taste or should meddle at all.\n\n\n\n\nGOD SEES ME ALWAYS.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter G.]\n\nGod sees me always. When I sleep,\n  He kindly watches near;\nHe loves the little child to keep,\n  Who tries to please Him here.\n\nWhen I'm alone He sees me too,\n  Though no one else is by;\nAnd every naughty thing I do,\n  He sees it from on high.\n\nHe sees me, too, when I am rude,\n  And cry, and fret, and tease;\nHe loves to see me when I'm good\n  And try mamma to please.\n\nThen, since He sees me day and night,\n  And is so kind to me,\nI must do always what is right,\n  His gentle child must be.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE ARK AND THE DOVE.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter A.]\n\nA rain once fell upon the earth\n  For many a day and night,\nAnd hid the flowers, the grass, the trees,\n  The birds and beasts, from sight.\n\nThe deep waves covered all the land,\n  And mountain-tops so high;\nAnd nothing could be seen around,\n  But water, and the sky.\n\nBut yet there was one moving thing,--\n  A still and lonely ark,--\nThat, many a weary day and night,\n  Sailed o'er that ocean dark.\n\nAt last, a little dove was forth\n  From that lone vessel sent;\nBut, wearied, to the ark again,\n  When evening came, she bent.\n\nAgain she went, but soon returned,\n  And in her beak was seen\nA little twig--an olive-branch--\n  With leaves of shining green.\n\nThe waters sank, and then the dove\n  Flew from the ark once more,\nAnd came not back, but lived among\n  The tree-tops, as before.\n\nThen from the ark they all came forth,\n  With songs of joy and praise;\nAnd once again the green earth smiled\n  Beneath the sun's warm rays.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BEE.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nNow, Ellen, stop screaming and running away,\n  And come here and listen to me;\nIs it true, my dear daughter, I want you to say,\n  That you're foolishly scared by a bee?\n\nThe bee is as frightened as you are, my dear,\n  For he can't tell the way to get out;\nAnd as for his sting, that you never need fear,\n  If you do not run crying about.\n\nIf you were to catch him, why, then, I dare say\n  You'd soon feel his sharp little sting;\nBut if you sit still at your work or your play,\n  Be sure that no harm he will bring.\n\nSo wipe off these tears and never again\n  Give way to so foolish a fright;\nFor if you indulge it 't will cost you much pain\n  And no one will want you in sight.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nSUNDAY.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter T.]\n\n'T is Sunday morning, dear mamma!\n  I do not wish to play;\nLast night I put my dolls and toys\n  Safe in my box away.\n\nI'll come and sit down by your side,\n  While you the story tell\nOf the good little Joseph, whom\n  His father loved so well.\n\nAnd of the time when waters dark\n  Covered the world around;\nAnd all but Noah in his ark,\n  Beneath the waves were drowned.\n\nAnd of the gentle dove, that forth\n  O'er those wide waters flew,\nAnd twice, with weary wing, returned,\n  No resting-place in view.\n\nAnd how the infant Moses, too,\n  Floated the Nile along;\nAnd how his mother made for him\n  The basket cradle strong.\n\nPlease tell these Bible-stories then,\n  And take me on your knee,\nAnd I'll sit still, my dear mamma,\n  And listen quietly.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE PLEASANT WORLD.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter I.]\n\nI love to see the sun go down\n  Behind the western hill;\nI love to see the night come on,\n  When everything is still.\n\nI love to see the moon and stars\n  Shine brightly in the sky;\nI love to see the rolling clouds\n  Above my head so high.\n\nI love to see the little flowers\n  That grow up from the ground;\nTo hear the wind blow through the trees,\n  And make a rustling sound.\n\nI love to see the sheep and lambs\n  So happy in their play;\nI love to hear the small birds sing\n  Sweetly, at close of day.\n\nI love to see them _all_, because\n  They are so bright and fair;\nAnd He who made this pleasant world\n  Will listen to my prayer.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nSAMUEL.\n\n\n[Illustration: I.]\n\nIn Bible times so long ago,\n  And in a far-off city, too,\nA mother watched her only child\n  As he in strength and beauty grew.\n\nAnd when his little tottering feet\n  Had scarcely learned to go alone,--\nBefore his baby voice could speak\n  Her name, with a sweet, joyous tone,--\n\nShe took her boy and travelled on,\n  Away from home, for many a mile,\nThat with a good and holy man\n  Her darling son might live a while;\n\nThat he might learn about the God\n  Who made the earth and sea and sky;\nAnd then she left him there and turned\n  Back to her home, with many a sigh.\n\nShe could not place him on her knee\n  And tell him he was very dear;\nAnd so she made a little coat\n  And brought it to him every year.\n\nBut you, my little girl, can learn,\n  While you are sitting close by me,\nOf heaven, and that kind God above,\n  Who made in love each thing we see.\n\nAnd you should thank Him every day,\n  That you can here His goodness know;\nAnd from your pleasant, happy home,\n  And your dear parents, need not go.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BIRD'S NEST.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nWhat is Harry thinking of,\n  Sitting on that mossy stone?\nAll his brothers are at play;\n  Why is he so still and lone?\n\nHe is musing earnestly;\n  And the flutterings of the bird\nAnd its pleading, feeble chirp\n  Fall upon his ear unheard.\n\nWell may little Harry think!\n  From the pear-tree's withered bough\nHe has brought the pretty nest,\n  Placed within his hat-crown now.\n\nThat is why he sits alone;\n  And he hears a voice within,\nLouder than the Robin's note,\n  Crying, \"Harry, this is sin!\"\n\nThen put back the nest, my boy,\n  So you will be glad and free,\nNor will hasten by in shame,\n  When you pass that withered tree.\n\n\n\n\nGOD LOVES US.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter H.]\n\n\"How beautiful it is, mamma,\n  That God should love us all;\nThat He should listen to their prayer,\n  When little children call!\n\n\"What shall I do for him, mamma?\n  For He's so kind to me,--\nHow shall I show my love to Him\n  Who made bird, flower and tree?\"\n\n\"The only thing which you can do\n  Is this, my darling child,\nBe always gentle, full of love,\n  In words and actions mild.\n\n\"Thus you will show your love to God\n  Who is so kind to you;\nAnd you will live with Him at last\n  In His bright heaven, too.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF MOSES.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter T.]\n\n\"Tell me a Sunday story,\"\n  A dear child said to me;\nAnd I bent down and kissed her\n  And placed her on my knee.\n\n\"Once, long ago, in countries\n  Far, very far away,\nWhere the cold snow-storm never comes,\n  And all is bright and gay,\n\n\"There lived a king, so cruel,\n  He gave this stern command,\nThat all the little children\n  Must die, throughout the land.\n\n\"But still there was one mother\n  Who kept her baby dear,\nAnd quickly hushed its crying,\n  In silence and in fear;\n\n\"But when she could no longer\n  Her precious baby hide,\nShe did not like to throw him\n  Upon the rushing tide;\n\n\"And so a little basket\n  She made, of rushes stout,\nAnd plastered it with clay and pitch\n  To keep the water out.\n\n\"Then in this basket-cradle\n  She put the little child;\nAnd quietly he floated down\n  Among the rushes wild.\n\n\"Just then the king's own daughter\n  Came to the water's edge,\nAnd saw the basket floating\n  Among the grass and sedge.\n\n\"She drew it from the water,\n  And called the babe her own,\nAnd kept him till to be a man\n  That little boy had grown.\n\n\"And when you read the Bible,--\n  Which you will learn to do,--\nYou'll see how great and good he was,\n  And how God loved him, too.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nANGER.\n\n\n[Illustration: W.]\n\n\"When a child is cross and angry,\n  Never must her voice be heard;\nOnly to herself most softly\n  May she say this simple word,\n\n\"Lead us not into temptation;\"\n  That will angry thoughts remove,\nMake her calm and still and gentle,\n  With a spirit full of love.\n\n\n\n\nWHAT THE BIRDS SAY.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"I hear the birds sing, mother,\n  Yet know not what they say;\nI've listened to them often\n  Until they flew away.\n\n\"Say if their words, dear mother,\n  To you are clear and plain,\nOr if, like me, you've listened\n  At morn and night in vain.\"\n\n\"We don't know what they say, dear;\n  We think they sing their hymn\nAt early morning sunrise,\n  Or at the twilight dim.\n\n\"When softly sings the mother,\n  Within her downy nest,\nWe think she's gently hushing\n  Her little ones to rest.\n\n\"But this remember, darling,\n  The birds are always kind;\nA cross or angry songster\n  I never yet could find.\n\n\"And you may learn a lesson\n  From their sweet notes of love;\nLike them be always gentle,\n  And please the God above.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE MONKEY.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter O.]\n\n\"O Mother! here's the organ-man,\n  And here's the monkey, too!\nJust see his funny gown of red,\n  And little cap of blue!\n\n\"O look! he's on the window there!\n  His cap is in his paw;\nAnd now he bows and makes a face;\n  What can it all be for?\n\n\"O, now they've dropped some money in,\n  While, quickly as he can,\nSee! he puts on his cap, and gives\n  The pennies to the man.\n\n\"Mamma! why don't you look at him!\n  You have not seen at all;\nJust see him climbing up and down,\n  With paws so brown and small!\n\n\"He's gone away! O, dear mamma,\n  Why did you not come here?\nYou never saw, in all your life,\n  A thing one half as queer.\"\n\n\"I'll tell you why, my little son,\n  I do not like to see\nThat monkey bow and jump about;\n  'Tis no delight to me.\n\n\"They've had to treat him cruelly\n  To teach him how to play;\nThey've had to whip and punish him\n  And take his food away.\n\n\"And that is why I do not love\n  To see him dancing so;\nAnd if you thought of it, my boy,\n  You'd feel with me, I know.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE SHEEP IN HEAVEN.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter C.]\n\n\"Come to the window, mother!\n  Look out, and you will see\nHow fast these little clouds sail on,\n  Above our old elm tree!\n\n\"And tell me, dearest mother,\n  Are these the sheep of heaven,\nThat in that land are feeding,\n  From morning until even?\n\n\"How soft and white and shining!\n  Oh! say, dear mother, there\nIs everything so gentle,\n  So lovely and so fair?\"\n\n\"We cannot see them, darling,\n  The sheep of heaven, here;\nAnd far more beautiful than this\n  Does that bright land appear.\n\n\"Eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard,\n  Nor tongue of man can tell\nThe glories of that home above,\n  Where all the good shall dwell.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTWILIGHT.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter T.]\n\nThe happiest hour of all the day\n  To me, is always last;\nWhen both my studies and my play,\n  My walks and work, are past.\n\nWhen round the bright warm fire we come,\n  With hearts so light and free,\nAnd all within our happy home\n  Are talking quietly,\n\nThen, by my dear, kind father's side\n  I sit, or on his knee,\nAnd then I tell him I have tried\n  His gentle girl to be.\n\nAnd then he says the little child\n  Is loved by every one,\nWho has a temper sweet and mild\n  And smiling as the sun.\n\nLet me do always as I should,\n  Nor vex my father dear;\nAnd let me be as glad and good\n  As he would have me here.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE WRONG STORY.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"My little Edward, how could you\nTell me a thing that was not true?\nAnd make me feel thus grieved and sad\nTo find I have a child so bad?\n\n\"And then, to do a deed so mean,\nAnd wish by that yourself to screen!\nWould you have had me blame poor Tray,\nAnd send him from the fire away?\n\n\"O! never, when you've disobeyed,\nOr by your mischief trouble made,\nThink that a wicked act is right\nBecause you hide it from my sight.\n\n\"It will be always seen by One,\nWho knows each wrong that you have done;\nAnd I shall know it too, no doubt,\nFor sin must always find you out.\n\n\"I cannot let you here to-day\nWith me and little sisters stay;\nBut you must go up stairs alone,\nTill you a better boy have grown.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE BALLAD.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter C.]\n\n\"Come hither, little brothers,\n  And listen now to me,\nAnd I will read a story\n  To both, while at my knee.\"\n\nThen Johnnie's flag hung idly,\n  And Charlie hushed his drum;\nTo hear sweet Mary's story\n  The mimic soldiers come.\n\n\"'Tis of a boy no larger,\n  My little Charles, than you;\nBut he had been in battle,\n  And all its terrors knew.\n\n\"His father was a captain;\n  He had no child beside;\nAnd while he was an infant\n  His mother dear had died.\n\n\"And so from camp to battle,\n  From fight to camp again,\nHad lived, this little hero,\n  On many a bloody plain.\n\n\"One day, when shouts were loudest\n  Upon the reddened field,--\nWhen came the victor's war-cry,\n  'See! see! they fly! they yield!'--\n\n\"Forth then, to seek his father,\n  He went with eager joy;\nBut with a chance ball wounded,\n  Low lay the fearless boy!\n\n\"The son of a brave chieftain,\n  He made no sigh or groan;\nHis father's hand yet tighter\n  He clasped within his own!\n\n\"And so, when strife was ended,\n  No more to be begun,\nIn conquest's very moment\n  Thus fell the chieftain's son.\"\n\nThen John took out his feather,\n  And put his flag away;\nAnd Charlie's drum was silent\n  Until another day.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHILD'S QUESTION.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter W.]\n\n\"What are the flowers for, mamma,\n  That spring up fresh and bright,\nAnd grow on every hill and plain,\n  Where'er I turn my sight?\n\n\"How do the flowers grow, mamma?\n  I've pulled the leaves away,\nAnd tried to see them blossom out,\n  On many a summer's day.\"\n\n\"The flowers were made, my little child,\n  That when our footsteps trod\nUpon the green and pleasant fields,\n  We then might think of God.\n\n\"We may not see how they do grow,\n  And bloom in beauty fair;\nWe cannot tell how they can spread\n  Their small leaves to the air:\n\n\"But yet we know that God's kind hand\n  Creates these little flowers,\nAnd makes the warm sun shine on them,\n  And waters them with showers.\n\n\"And so we love to think that He,\n  Who paints their sweet leaves thus,\nWho sends the sunshine and the rain,\n  Has thought and care for us.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\nSUNDAY NIGHT.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter T.]\n\nThe holy Sabbath day has fled;\n  And has it been well spent?\nHave I remembered what was said,\n  And why the day was sent?\n\nMay I be better all the week,\n  For what to-day has taught;\nMay I God's love and favor seek,\n  And do the things I ought!\n\n\n\n\n\n\nHAGAR AND ISHMAEL.\n\n\n[Illustration: T.]\n\n'Twas morning, and the pleasant light\nShone on the hills, the trees, the flowers,\nAnd made a far-off country bright,\nA lovely land, but not like ours.\n\nA mother led her little child\nForth from his father's door away;\nAnd with the flowers he played, and smiled\nAs beautiful and bright as they.\n\nBut when, at noon, the warm sun beat\nUpon the sweet boy's forehead fair,\nTired and thirsty from the heat,\nHe asked in vain for water there.\n\nThe bottle, filled with water clear\nAt early day, was empty now;\nThe mother laid her child so dear\nBeneath an old tree's spreading bough.\n\nShe turned away, and heard the sound\nOf water, gushing like the rain;\nShe raised her boy from off the ground,\nHe drank, and played and smiled again.\n\nThey travelled on for many a day,\nThe mother and her little child;\nAnd found a home, far, far away,\nAt last, among the deserts wild.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nEVENING HYMN.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThe bird within its nest\n  Has sung its evening hymn,\nAnd I must go to quiet rest,\n  As the bright west grows dim.\n\nI see the twinkling star,\n  That, when the sun has gone,\nIs shining out the first afar,\n  To tell us day is done.\n\nIf on this day I've been\n  A selfish, naughty child,\nMay God forgive the wrong I've done,\n  And make me kind and mild.\n\nMay he still bless and keep\n  My father, mother dear;\nAnd may the eye that cannot sleep\n  Watch o'er our pillows here,\n\nAnd guard us from all ill,\n  Through this long, silent night,\nAnd bring us, by His holy will,\n  To see the morning light.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE FIRST VIOLET.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter S.]\n\nSpring has come, dear mother!\n  I've a violet found,\nGrowing in its beauty\n  From the cold, dark ground.\n\nYou are sad, dear mother,\n  Tears are in your eye;\nYou're not glad to see it;\n  Mother, tell me why?\n\nI remember.--Last year,\n  Where our Willie lies,\nGrew the earliest violet,\n  Blue as were his eyes.\n\nThen you told me, mother,\n  That the flowers would fade,\nAnd their withered blossoms\n  On the earth be laid.\n\nBut you said, as springtime\n  Would their buds restore,\nWillie would in heaven\n  Be forevermore.\n\nWeep no more, dear mother!\n  Violets are in bloom;\nAnd your darling Willie\n  Lives beyond the tomb.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHRISTMAS.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter L.]\n\n\"Little children, when rejoicing\n  In the merry Christmas morn,\n'Mid your sports remember ever\n  'Tis the day that Christ was born.\n\n\"When on earth, the blessed Saviour\n  Said, 'Let children come to me,'\nAnd the little ones he folded\n  In his arms, how tenderly!\"\n\n\"But the Saviour is in heaven,\n  And we cannot see him now;\nWe cannot receive his blessing,\n  In his presence cannot bow.\"\n\n\"Listen. In the holy Bible,\n  Jesus Christ tells every child\nThat the way to gain his blessing\n  Is by being good and mild.\"\n\n\"Here on earth you may not see him;\n  But when this short life is done,\nYou shall live with him forever\n  Where there is no setting sun.\"\n\n\"So remember, Christmas morning,\n  That on earth the Saviour came;\nAnd that still he guards and blesses\n  Every child who loves his name.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n\n\nNEW YEAR.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter I.]\n\nIf I resolve, with the new year,\n  A better child to be,\n'Twill do no good at all, I fear,\n  But rather harm to me,\n\nUnless I try, with every day,\n  No angry word to speak;\nUnless, each morn, to God I pray\n  To keep me mild and meek.\n\nThen let me try with all my might,\n  And may God help me too,\nAlways to choose the way that's right,\n  Whatever act I do.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nEVENING HYMN.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter G.]\n\nGod has kept me, dearest mother.\n  Kindly, safely, through the day:\nLet me thank Him for His goodness,\n  Ere the twilight fades away.\n\nFor my home and friends I thank Him,\n  For my father, mother dear;\nFor the hills, the trees, the flowers,\n  And the sky so bright and clear.\n\nIf I have been kind and gentle,\n  If I've spoken what was true,\nOr if I've been cross and selfish,\n  He has seen and known it, too.\n\nThose I love He will watch over,\n  Though they may be far away,\nFor he loves good little children,\n  And will hear the words they say.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n\n\nSOAP-BUBBLES.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter O.]\n\n\"O George! how large your bubble is!\n  Its colors, too, how bright!\nJust like the rainbow that we saw\n  On high, the other night.\n\n\"Now throw it off, and let it float\n  Like fairies in the air!\nIt's broken, Georgie; never mind,\n  But blow another there.\"\n\nTheir mother, just within the door,\n  Smiled at their childish play,--\nA smile, but yet a thoughtful one,\n  That seemed these words to say:\n\n\"My little Georgie, bubbles burst,\n  And are but empty air;\nI would that you might love the things\n  That last forever fair.\n\n\"And ever may my darling Kate\n  A trusting spirit bear,\nAnd, when one cherished hope has fled,\n  Yet find another there.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n\n\nSPRING.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nI am coming, I am coming,\n  With my carpet soft and green;\nI have spread it o'er the common,\n  And a prettier ne'er was seen.\n\nSoon I'll spangle it with clover,\n  And the dandelions bright;\nYou shall pick them in your aprons,\n  Yellow, red, and snowy white.\n\nI am coming, and the tree-tops,\n  That all winter were so bare,\nYou shall see, with small leaves covered,\n  Wave their branches in the air.\n\nI am coming! Little children,\n  Can you tell me who am I?\nIf not, you will soon remember,\n  For I'm just now passing by.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n\n\nSUMMER.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration: Letter T.]\n\nTis Summer, I know by the blue of the sky;\nBy the trees' deeper green, as beneath them I lie;\nAnd more than all these, by the lovely wild rose\nThat now in the woodland its pink blossom shows.\n\nNow ring the sharp scythes of the mowers all day,\nAnd they spread to the air the sweet-scented hay;\nThey pile up the wagon ere daylight is done,\nAnd singing come home with the set of the sun.\n\nI feel the warm west wind fan gently my cheek\nAs I sit on the grass, far too happy to speak;\nAnd then in the twilight I see the faint spark\nOf the fire-fly, flitting alone in the dark.\n\nOh! long happy days, when 'tis full of delight\nTo roam in the meadows from morning till night!\nOh! summer, sweet summer! glide slowly away,\nFor I love in your warmth and your fragrance to stay.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n\n\nAUTUMN.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nHere's the purple aster,\n  And the golden-rod,\nAnd the blue fringed gentian,\n  By the meadow sod.\n\nAnd the scarlet cardinal\n  Grows beside the brook,\nAnd the yellow sunflower\n  In some sheltered nook.\n\nMaple boughs are covered\n  With their foliage red,\nAnd the withered elm leaves\n  On the ground lie dead.\n\nAnd within the orchard,\n  Heavy-laden trees\nShower down the apples,\n  With each passing breeze.\n\nSo by these we know thee,\n  Lovely autumn time,\nWith thy deep blue heavens,\n  And thy snowy rime.\n\nAnd we gladly greet thee,\n  With thy colors gay,\nThough thou tell'st us summer\n  Hence hath fled away.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nWINTER.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nWith my breath so keen and chilling,\n  I have stripped the branches bare;\nAnd my snow-flakes white are filling,\n  Feather-like, the frosty air.\n\nComing o'er the lofty mountains,\n  There I left a robe of white;\nI have locked the sparkling fountains,\n  I have chained the river bright.\n\nO'er the quiet valley winging,\n  There I left my traces, too;\nHark! the merry sleigh-bells ringing,\n  With their music call on you.\n\nI have come! The school-boy shouting,\n  Joyfully brings out his sled;\nHe has seen me, nothing doubting,\n  As across the fields he sped.\n\nI have come; but shall I find you\n  Better than the former year?\nIf you've cast your faults behind you,\n  I shall gladly greet you here.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n\"GIVE US THIS DAY OUR DAILY BREAD.\"\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter G.]\n\nGive us this day our daily bread;\n  Oh! children, when you pray,\nAnd morn and night repeat these words,\n  Think what it is you say.\n\nYou never asked a piece of bread,\n  And had that wish denied;\nFor food to eat, and some to spare,\n  Has always been supplied.\n\nBut o'er the ocean, many a cheek\n  With want grows thin and pale;\nAnd many suffer like the boy\n  Of whom I tell this tale.\n\nHe lay upon some scattered straw,--\n  His strength was almost gone,--\nAnd, in a feeble voice, he cried,\n  \"Give me three grains of corn!\"\n\nThree grains from out his jacket torn,\n  His trembling mother drew,\n'Twas all she had--she gave them him,\n  Though she was starving too!\n\nBe very grateful, children, then,\n  For all that you enjoy;\nRemembering, as you say those words,\n  The little Irish boy.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n\n\nWILLIE IN HEAVEN:\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter T.]\n\n\"They tell me in a sunny land\n  Our Willie is at play;\nAnd with him is a happy band\n  Of children, good and gay.\n\n\"They say their shining robes of white\n  Are free from spot or stain;\nThat there, where it is never night,\n  They feel no grief or pain.\n\n\"But Willie shunned the stranger's face,\n  When he was with us here;\nAnd in that new, though lovely place,\n  He will be sad, I fear.\n\n\"He'll miss me,--though the fields are fair,\n  His bright eyes will grow dim;\nHe has no little sister there;\n  O let me go to him!\"\n\n\"Our Willie is not sad, my child;\n  For in that heavenly home\nThere dwells the blessed Saviour mild,\n  Who bids the children come.\n\n\"He loves them with a purer love,\n  A holier, than ours;\nAnd leads them in the fields above,\n  Where spring undying flowers.\n\n\"If no ungentle words you speak,\n  No wicked actions do,\nAnd if, with every day, you seek\n  To be more kind and true,\n\n\"Then, by our darling Willie's side,\n  And joined in heart and hand,\nForevermore shall you abide,\n  Among the angel band.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE ANGELS.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter W.]\n\n\"Where are the angels, mother?\n  Though you have often said\nThey watched at night around me,\n  And safely kept my bed;\n\n\"Though every night I listen\n  Their voices low to hear,\nYet I have never heard them,--\n  Where are they, mother dear?\n\n\"And when the silver moonshine\n  Fills all my room with light,\nAnd when the stars are shining,\n  So countless and so bright.\n\n\"I hope to see them coming,\n  With their fair forms, to me;\nYet I have never seen them,--\n  Mother, where can they be?\n\n\"I saw a cloud, this evening,\n  Red with the setting sun;\nIt was so very lovely,\n  I thought it might be one.\n\n\"But when it faded slowly,\n  I knew it could not be,\nFor they are always shining;\n  Why come they not to me?\"\n\n\"My child, when through your window\n  Shines down the moonlight clear,--\nWhen all is still and silent,\n  And no kind friend is near,--\n\n\"Are you not glad and happy,\n  And full of thoughts of love?\nDo you not think of heaven.\n  That brighter land above?\n\n\"These thoughts the angels bring you;\n  And though the gentle tone\nOf their sweet voices comes not\n  When you are all alone;\n\n\"Yet they are always leaving,\n  For earth, their homes on high;\nAnd though you cannot see them,\n  You feel that they are nigh.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHILDHOOD OF JESUS.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter O.]\n\nOf the childhood of our Saviour\n  Tells one simple verse alone;\nYet from that his whole behavior\n  When he was a child, is known.\n\nHe was subject to his mother,\n  So the holy Scriptures say;\n'Tis enough, we need no other\n  Record of him day by day.\n\nThus we, his obedience knowing,\n  Know how gentle and how mild,--\nHow in truth and goodness growing\n  Was our Saviour from a child.\n\nLittle children, who endeavor\n  Like the blessed One to be,\nAs you try, remember ever\n  How obedient was he.\n\nIf, like Jesus pure and holy,\n  You your parents' will obey,\nYou will grow more meek and lowly,\n  And more like him, every day.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE FISHERS.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter S.]\n\nSilence! stir not! for a whisper\n  Would affright thy pretty prey;\nNot a motion, little lisper,\n  Else the fish will glide away.\n\nHush! he's coming! he is swimming\n  Slowly round and round the bait;\nSteady! though thine eye is brimming\n  Full of mirth that will not wait.\n\nAnd thy brother near thee kneeling\n  Fears to hear thy ringing shout;\nGently! near and nearer stealing\n  Comes the brightly spotted trout.\n\nThere! thy hook has caught him surely;\n  Firmly hold thy slender rod;\nPull away! and then securely\n  Place him on the grassy sod.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'Neath the green boughs rustling o'er you,\n  Fish away the livelong day;\nAnd with evening's star before you,\n  Wander home at twilight gray.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE RAINBOW.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter W.]\n\n\"What is the rainbow, mother dear,\n  With many-colored light?\nHave the clouds parted just to show\n  The floor of heaven so bright?\n\n\"Or is it wings of angels pure\n  That touch along the sky?\nAnd do they come that we may see\n  How fair is all on high?\n\n\"Or, mother, on that shining arch\n  Do spirits rise above?\nAnd on that bended bow ascend\n  Where all is light and love?\n\n\"How beautiful must be that road!\n  Why should we call those back,\nWho travel to the better land\n  On such a sunny track?\n\n\"Why did you weep when brother died?\n  Did you not know that he\nOn that delightful path must tread,\n  Ere he in heaven could be?\"\n\n\"My dearest child, we cannot know,\n  Or trace the spirit's flight,\nFor sin and sorrow draw their veil\n  Across our mortal sight.\n\n\"If--as the rainbow takes its hues\n  Of beauty from the sun--\nWe strive to live like Christ our Lord,\n  The meek and holy One,--\n\n\"Then shall we dwell in Heaven's clear day,\n  Which knows nor night nor moon,\nFor, ever, from the Father's throne\n  Beams high and cloudless noon.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n\n\nA SONG FOR MAY MORNING.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nAwake! awake! the dusky night\n  Is fading from the sky;\nAwake! and with the early light\n  To pleasant fields we'll hie.\nCome with me, and I will show\nWhere the fragrant wild-flowers grow;\nWe will weave a garland gay\nFor our smiling Queen of May.\n\nThe sun peeps up behind the hills,\n  And hark! the morning song\nOf little birds the fresh air fills,\n  As now we skip along.\nBy the brook-side cold and wet,\nBlooms the pale, white violet;\nThere's the purple blossom, too,\nNodding with its weight of dew.\n\nThe gentle wind just lifts the head\n  Of many a columbine;\nAnd, taken from their rocky bed,\n  They in our wreaths shall twine.\nSaxifrage, so small and sweet,\nGrows in plenty at our feet;\nFrom the grass we gather up,\nGolden bright, the buttercup.\n\nNow for the trailing evergreen,\n  That in the woodland springs,\nAnd we will crown our May-day queen\n  With buds this fair month brings.\nMerriest of all the year\nIs the day we welcome here;\nWe will sing and dance away,\nIn our glee, this long May-day.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHILD AND THE FLOWER-ELF.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter I.]\n\n\"I was walking, dearest mother,\n  This morning, by the brook,\nAnd tired at last I rested me\n  Within a shady nook.\n\n\"There all was still and lonely,\n  And suddenly I heard\nA little voice,--a sweeter one\n  Than note of any bird.\n\n\"I looked above, around me,\n  I saw not whence it came;\nAnd yet that tone of music\n  Was calling me by name.\n\n\"The violet beside me\n  Bloomed with its purple cup,\nAnd a tiny face, so lovely,\n  Amidst its leaves peeped up.\n\n\"Again the silver music,--\n  The voice I loved to hear,--\nUpon its sweet breath floated,\n  And bade me not to fear.\n\n\"'I am the elf,' it whispered,\n  'Who in the violet dwells,\nAnd every blossom hides one\n  Within its fragrant cells.\n\n\"'If you will list our teaching,\n  And catch our faintest tone,\nYour heart will be as spotless,\n  As loving as our own.'\n\n\"And then, as I was gazing,\n  It vanished from my sight;\nOnce more the violet nodded,\n And sought the sunshine bright.\"\n\n\"My darling child, the elfins\n  That live within the flowers\nSweet sounds are ever breathing,\n  To glad this world of ours.\n\n\"Well may we weep and sorrow,\n  If they are silent all;\nThen are our souls too sinful\n  To heed their spirit call.\n\n\"The pure in heart alone can hear\n  Those precious words and low;\nAnd by their lessons purer yet\n  Throughout their lives shall grow.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE FOUR GIFTS.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter A.]\n\nA new-born babe was sleeping\n  Within its cradle fair,\nAnd angel guards were keeping\n  Its peaceful slumbers there.\n\nGone was the age of fairies,\n  And of the elfins wild,\nWho, hovering o'er the infant's couch,\n  Were wont to bless the child.\n\nBut in a distant city,\n  Fays that still glad the earth,\nFour gentle little children,\n  Hailed with delight his birth.\n\nOut spake the eldest sister,\n  \"O, let us fairies play,\nAnd give to our young brother\n  Some precious gift to-day.\n\n\"Sit down around the fireside,\n  And I my gift will tell.\"\nAnd the little children sat them down\n  The fancy pleased them well.\n\nAgain thus spake the eldest,\n  \"I 'll give him _beauty_ rare;\nHis eyes shall be as diamonds bright,\n  His brow like marble fair.\n\n\"He shall have golden ringlets,\n  His cheeks shall mock the rose;\nAnd he shall be the loveliest\n  Where'er his light form goes.\"\n\nThe next replied, \"Oh! sister,\n  Not such a gift is mine;\nFor beauty's charms, though lovely,\n  Must perish and decline.\n\n\"I'll give him _wit_ and _talents_;\n  In manhood he shall stand\nAmong the gifted and the wise,\n  That bless our native land.\"\n\n\"I'll give him _sweet good-temper_,\"\n  Said the third loving child;\n\"He shall make glad our happy home\n  By actions kind and mild.\"\n\nThe youngest raised her wondering eyes,\n  And said, in accents low,\n\"I thought the gift I chose would be\n  The first that you 'd bestow.\n\n\"I'll give our little brother\n  _Obedience_ to-day,\nAnd he shall mind, with cheerfulness,\n  All that our parents say.\"\n\nOh! blessed is the childish heart,\n  In life's first opening dawn,\nFor all its high and holy thoughts\n  From heavenly founts are drawn.\n\nMay our most valued blessings be\n  Obedience and love!\nOur hearts, like that sweet sister's, full\n  Of teachings from above!\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWO LULLABIES.\n\n  \"Once songs as lullabies to thee I sung,\n  To sleep hath sung thee now an angel's tongue.\"\n\n  _From the German of Ruckert_.\n\n\n[Illustration: Letter A.]\n\nA lovely babe was lying\n  Upon its mother's breast;\nAnd she, with soft, low music.\n  Was hushing it to rest.\n\nThe song was sweet and gentle,\n  And loving in its tone;\nAnd in its touching tenderness\n  A mother's love was shown.\n\nAnd still it floated onward,\n  With melody so deep,\nTill closed the dark-fringed eyelids,\n  The baby was asleep.\n\nAnd still beside his cradle\n  She sang the same low hymn,\nTill he smiled, as he was sleeping,\n  At angel fancies dim.\n\nYears passed.--The helpless infant\n  Was now a happy boy;\nAnd often rang his laughter,\n  In notes of heartfelt joy.\n\nUpon his mother's bosom\n  I saw the child again;\nAnd his little head was drooping\n  In weakness and in pain.\n\nBack from his marble forehead\n  The hair streamed, golden bright;\nBut yet his dark eye sparkled\n  With more than mortal light.\n\nAnd suddenly he whispered,\n  \"What music sweet I hear!\n'Tis not the song you used to sing\n  At night, O mother dear!\n\n\"But sweeter far, and softer,\n  Than notes you ever sung;\nIt is as if a silver bell\n  Its pleasant chimings rung.\n\n\"It tells of rest, dear mother,\n  Of slumber calm and deep;\nAnd I am worn and weary,\n  And fain 'would sink to sleep.\n\n\"Darkness is closing round me--\n  You're fading from my sight--\nI hear it still!--dear mother,\n  Kiss me once more--good-night!\"\n\nHe slept; but angel voices\n  Had sung his lullaby;\nAnd sweet shall be his waking\n  In our Father's home on high!\n\n[Illustration]","title":"Cousin Hatty's Hymns and Twilight Stories","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":7902}