Why is Sarah standing there,
Leaning down upon a chair,

With such an angry lip and brow?
I wonder what's the matter now.

Come here, my dear, and tell me true;
Is it because I spoke to you

About the work you'd done so slow,
That you are standing fretting so?
Why, then indeed I'm grieved to see
That you can so ill-tempered be.
You make your fault a great deal worse
By being angry and perverse.

O, how much better 't would appear,
To see you shed a humble tear,
And then to hear you meekly say,
"I'll not do so another day."

TEMPER.

Bad temper, go,

You never shall stay with me;
Bad temper, go,

You and I shall never agree.

For I will always kind and mild
And gentle pray to be,

And do to others as I wish

That they should do to me.

Temper bad

With me shall never stay;
Temper bad

Can never be happy and gay.

OF WHAT ARE YOUR CLOTHES MADE?

Come here to mamma, and I'll tell you, dear boy

For I think you never have guessedHow many poor animals we must employ Before little George can be dressed.

WORK AND PLAY.

Those children who are all the day Allowed to wander out,

And only waste their time in play,
Or running wild about;

Who do not any school attend,
But trifle as they will,

Are almost certain in the end
To come to something ill.

There's nothing worse than idleness.
To lead them into sin;

'T is sure to end in wretchedness, In poverty, and pain.

Sometimes they learn to lie and cheat,
Sometimes to steal and swear:

These are the lessons in the street
For idle children there.

A GOOD NAME.

Children, choose it,
Don't refuse it,
"Tis a precious diadem;
Highly prize it,

Don't despise it,

You will need it when you're men.

Love and cherish,

Keep and nourish,

'Tis more precious far than gold; Watch and guard it,

Don't discard it,

You will need it when you're old.

BOY AND LARK.

Who taught you to sing,

My sweet pretty birds?

Who tuned your beautiful throats?

You make all the woods
And the valleys to ring,
You bring the first news
Of the earliest spring,

With your loud and silvery notes.

It was God, said a lark,

As he rose from the earth;
He gives us the good we enjoy :
He painted our wings,

He gave us our voice,
He finds us our food,
He bids us rejoice-
Good-morning, my beautiful boy!