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But Thomas and William, and such pretty names, Give to the Father praise,
Should be cleanly and harmless as doves, or as lambs, Give glory to the Son ;
Those lovely sweet innocent creatures. And to the Spirit of his grace
Not a thing that we do, nor a word that we say, Be equal honour done.
Should hinder another in jesting or play;
For he's still in earnest that's hurt:
There's none but a madman will fling about fire,
And tell you “ 'Tis all but in sport."
III. THE ROSE. genius would undertake for the use of children, How fair is the rose! what a beautiful flower ! and perform much better.
The glory of April and May ! The sense and subjects might be borrowed plenti- But the leaves are beginning to fade in an hour, fully from the Proverbs of Solomon, from all the And they wither and die in a day. common appearances of nature, from all the occur- Yet the rose has one powerful virtue to boast, rences of civil life, both in city and country (which Above all the flowers of the field : would also afford matter for other divine songs). When its leaves are all dead, and fine colours are lost, Here the language and measures should be easy, Still how sweet a perfume it will yield! and flowing with cheerfulness, with or without the So frail is the youth and the beauty of men, solemnities of religion, or the sacred names of God
Though they bloom and look gay like the rose; and holy things ; that children might find delight But all our fond care to preserve them is vain ; and profit together,
Time kills them as fast as he goes. This would be one effectual way to deliver them from those idle, wanton, or profane songs, which Then I'll not be proud of my youth or my beauty, give so early an ill taint to the fancy and memory,
Since both of them wither and fade; and become the seeds of future vices.
But gain a good name by well-doing my duty :
This will scent like a rose when I'm dead.
IV. THE THIEF.
Of his goods against his will?
By such tricks to hope for gain :
Turns to sorrow, shame, and pain.
Oft we see a young beginner
Though we fancy none can spy : But thanks to my friends for their care in my When we take a thing forbidden, breeding,
God beholds it with bis eye.
Lest I covet what 's not mine :
Lest I steal what is not given,
Guard my heart and hands from sin.
V. THE ANT OR EMMET.
These emmets how little they are in our eyes ! How much may we learn from the sight!
Without our regard or concern: If we had been ducks, we might dabble in mud; Yet, as wise as we are, if we went to their school, Or dogs, we might play till it ended in blood; There's many a sluggard, and many a fool, So foul and so fierce are their natures:
Some lessons of wisdom might learn.
They don't wear their time out in sleeping or play,
A SUMMER EVENING.
How ine has the day been, how bright was the They manage their work in such regular forms,
Sun, One would think they foresaw all the frosts and the How lovely and joyful the course that he run, storms,
Though he rose in a mist when his race he begun, And so brought their food within doors.
And there follow'd some droppings of rain!
But now the fair traveller 's come to the West, But I have less sense than a poor creeping ant, If I take not due care for the things I shall want,
His rays are all gold, and his beauties are best;
He paints the sky gay as he sinks to his rest, Nor provide against dangers in time.
And foretels a bright rising again.
Just such is the Christian : his course he begins, If I trifle away all their prime!
Like the Sun in a mist, while he mourns for his sins,
And melts into tears: then he breaks out and shines, Now, now, while my strength and my youth are
And travels his heavenly way: in bloom, Let me think what will serve me when sickness But when he comes nearer to finish his race, shall come,
Like a fine setting Sun, he looks richer in grace, And pray that my sins be forgiven:
And gives a sure hope at the end of his days Let me read in good-books, and believe, and obey,
Of rising in brighter array. That when Death turns me out of this cottage of
clay, I may dwell in a palace in Heaven.
Some copies of the following Hymn having got
abroad already into several hands, the author
has been persuaded to permit it to appear in pube VI. GOOD RESOLUTIONS.
lic, at the end of these Songs for Children.
A CRADLE HYMN.
Husy! my dear, lie still and slumber,
Holy angels guard thy bed! Others shall partake my goodness;
Heavenly blessings without number I'll supply the poor with meat,
Gently falling on thy head. Never showing scom or rudeness.
Sleep, my babe; thy food and raiment, Where I see the blind or lame,
House and home, thy friends provide; Deaf or dumb, I 'll kindly treat them;
All without thy care or payment. I deserve to feel the same
All thy wants are well supplied. If I mock, or burt, or cheat them.
How much better thou 'rt attended If I meet with railing tongues,
Than the Son of God could be, Why should I return them railing,
When from Heaven he descended, Since I best revenge my wrongs
And became a child like thee! By my patience never failing?
Soft and easy is thy cradle: When I hear them telling lies,
Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay: Talking foolish, cursing, swearing ;
When his birth-place was a stable, First I'll try to make them wise,
And bis softest bed was hay. Or I'll soon go out of hearing.
Blessed babe! what glorious features, What though I be low and mean,
Spotless fair, divinely bright! I'll engage the rich to love me,
Must he dwell with brutal creatures! While I'm modest, neat and clean,
How could angels bear the sight? And submit when they reprove me.
Was there nothing but a manger If I should be poor and sick,
Cursed sinners could afford I shall meet, I hope, with pity,
To receive the heavenly stranger! Since I love to help the weak,
Did they thus affront their Lord ? Though they 're neither fair nor witty.
Soft, my child; I did not chide thee, I'll not willingly offend,
Though my song might sound too hard ; Nor be easily offended;
·mother What 's amiss I'll strive to mend,
T is thy ? And endure what can't be mended.
And her arms shall be thy guard. May I be so watchful still
Yet to read the shameful story, O'er my humours and iny passion,
How the Jews abus'd their King, As to speak and do no ill,
How they serv'd the Lord of glory, Though it should be all the fashion !
Makes me angry while I sing. Wicked fashions lead to Hell;
Ne'er may I be found complying; But in life behave so well,
1 Here you may use the words brother, sister, Not to be afraid of dying.
neighbuur, friend, &c.
nurse that } sits beside thee
See the kinder shepherds round him,
'T was to save thee, child, from dying, Telling wonders from the sky!
Save my dear from burning flame, Where they sought him, there they found him, Bitter groans and endless crying, With his virgin mother by.
That thy blest Redeemer came. See the lovely babe a-dressing;
Mayst thou live to know and fear him, Lovely infant, how he smil'd!
Trust and love him all thy days; When he wept, the mother's blessing
Then go dwell for ever near him, Sooth'd and hush'd the holy child.
See his face, and sing his praise ! Lo, hé slumbers in his manger,
I could give thee thousand kisses, Where the horned oxen fed ;
Hoping what I most desire; Peace, my darling, here 's no danger,
Not a mother's fondest wishes Here's no ox a-near thy bed.
Can to greater joys aspire.