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awake baby beautiful blessed bread bright brother busy bee chick-a-de-dee Child's Book cold darling dear little dear mother Dolly door eyes Father fear flowers friends gentle give glad glory Good-morning happy Hastings head hear heart heathen heaven holy Hushaby Jesus Johnny Bell keep kind kiss kite lark let me love light little birds little boy little child little children little darling little girl little lamb little maid LITTLE PONY live look Lord mamma Mary merry mild moolly cow morning naughty nest never nice night Nursery Songs o'er play pleasant pleasant home praise prayer pretty rest Robert Reid round Saviour shines sing sleep smile snow soft soon soul sweet sweetly Taylor teach tell temper thank thee There's things thou to-day tree warm watch wings young
Page 58 - Little drops of water, Little grains of sand Make the mighty ocean, And the pleasant land.
Page 167 - WHAT IS THAT, MOTHER? 1. WHAT is that, mother ? — The lark, my child. The morn has but just looked out and smiled, When he starts from his humble, grassy nest, And is up and away, with the dew on his breast, And a hymn in his heart, to yon pure, bright sphere, To warble it out in his Maker's ear. Ever, my child, be thy morn's first lays Tuned, like the lark's, to thy Maker's praise. 2. What is that, mother ? — The dove, my son.
Page 218 - Anouiro the throne of God in heaven, Thousands of children stand ; Children whose sins are all forgiven, A holy, happy band. Singing glory, glory, Glory be to God on high.
Page 143 - And when the ground was white with snow, And I could run and slide, My brother John was forced to go, And he lies by her side". "How many are you, then, "said I, "If they two are in heaven?
Page 110 - How skilfully she builds her cell! How neat she spreads the wax ! And labours hard to store it well With the sweet food she makes. In works of labour or of skill I would be busy too: For Satan finds some mischief still For idle hands to do.
Page 141 - Two of us in the churchyard lie, My sister and my brother; And, in the churchyard cottage, I Dwell near them with my mother.
Page 197 - 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 traveller in the dark, Though I know not what you are, Twinkle, twinkle, little star.
Page 140 - That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death ? I met a little cottage Girl : She was eight years old, she said; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head. She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad: Her eyes were fair, and very fair ; — Her beauty made me glad. "Sisters and brothers, little Maid, How many may you be?" "How many? Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me.