What points me to the Lamb of God, What warns me to abstain from sin, What teaches to relieve the poor, What tells me of that state of bliss, What can support my drooping head, POOR CHILDREN. Tune, "Holborn." When I walk in the fields, or walk in the street, Their clothes are all ragged, and let in the cold; Oh dear! &c. And then, what is worse, very often they are For often they use naughty words in their play; Oh, how very thankful I always should be And, as mother tells me, I certainly should ADVANTAGES OF EARLY RELIGION. Happy the child whose tender years Who hates the sinner's path, and fears When we devote our youth to God, A flow'r, when offer'd in the bud, 'Tis easier work, if we begin To fear the Lord betimes; 'Twill save us from a thousand snares, Grace will preserve our following years, To Thee, Almighty God, to Thee, 'Twill please us to look back and see That our whole lives were thine. Let the sweet work of prayer and praise Employ my youngest breath: Thus I'm prepar'd for longer days, CHILDREN'S HYMN OF GRATITUDE. Oh, gracious Saviour, thou hast said, We wish this goodness to proclaim; CHILDREN'S HYMN OF GRATITUDE. To God our praises first belong, We praise the Lord that we are brought As ev'ry good from God descends, O may success their labours crown, CHILDREN'S HYMN OF GRATITUDE. We thank the Lord who brought us here, And think of his most holy ways. Like those that think not of the Lord. That blessed path that leads to heav'n. To turn from wisdom's pleasant way? And those shall never turn aside, Who seek his grace and trust his love. CHILDREN'S HYMN OF GRATITUDE. Tune, Shirland." While many of our race Are left to go astray, Far from the blissful paths of peace, Nor ever hear the way; How happy is our lot, Who live on Britain's isle! Which is of heav'n the favour'd spot, No idol gods we own, Nor blindly bow the knee; The God whom we adore, Fills earth, and air, and skies; Since British children are So highly bless'd of Heav'n, SCHOOL AND BIRDS' NESTING. Tune, "Mozart." "I shan't learn my lesson," a wicked boy said, To another that stood by his side; "I hate to be kept in the school till one's dead; Let's go to the grove, and get birds' nests instead; The young ones and eggs we'll divide." "Oh no!" said the other; " that never will do! You surely don't mean what you say? Our Mistress, how griev'd would she be, if she knew; Oh she would be so angry,—our parents would too, Who told us be sure not to play.' "Besides 'tis so cruel; so come off with me, So he went with some more, and with mischief and row, But in seeking a nest, upon a high bough, But no such disaster the other befel, (From sin all our troubles arise,) Commendation he earn'd; so his schoolfellows tell ; THE REWARD BOOK. Tune," Mozart." Returning from school, little Harry one day With a smile on his face, each step of the way, His pace being slower than usual by far, His schoolfellows round him were seen; Who were eager to know what book he'd got there, "A present it is, from our Mistress," he said; I soon will convince you from what I shall read, The title and some of the book he made known, THE FIELD DAISY. Tune," Weber." I'm a pretty little thing, Always coming with the Spring, And my stalk is cover'd flat, THE LILIES OF THE FIELD. Tune, "Shirland." The lilies of the field, That quickly fade away, May well to us a lesson yield, Who die as soon as they. That pretty blossom see, A storm came sweeping o'er the tree, And broke its feeble stalk. Just like an early rose, I've seen an infant bloom; But Death, perhaps, before it blows, Will lay it in the tomb. Then let us think on death, Though we are young and gay; THE ROSE. Tune, "Mozart." How fair is the Rose! what a beautiful flow'r ! The glory of April and May! But the leaves are beginning to fade in an hour, Yet the Rose has one powerful virtue to boast, Above all the flow'rs of the field; When its leaves are all dead, and fine colours are lost, So frail is the youth and the beauty of men, |