38

LITTLE THINGS.

What pretty little heads you've got,
And such good-natured eyes;
That ruff of wool all round your necks,
How nicely curl'd it lies.

Come here, my little lambkin, come
And lick my hand-now do:
How silly to be so afraid,

Indeed I won't hurt you.

Just put your hand upon its back,
Mamma; how nice and warm:
There, pretty lamb, you see I don't
Intend to do you harm.

LITTLE THINGS.

LITTLE drops of water,
Little grains of sand,

Make the mighty ocean
And the pleasant land.

Thus the little minutes,
Humble though they be,
Make the mighty ages
Of eternity.

I WILL BE GOOD TO-DAY.

Thus our little errors
Make a mighty sin;
Drop by drop the evil

Floods the heart within.

Little deeds of kindness,
Little words of love,
Make our earth an Eden,
Like the heaven above.

I WILL BE GOOD TO-DAY

"I WILL be good, dear mother,"
I heard a sweet child say;
"I will be good; now watch me-
I will be good all day.”

She lifted up her bright young eyes,
With a soft and pleasing smile;
Then a mother's kiss was on her lips,
So pure and free from guile.

And when night came, that little one,
In kneeling down to pray,
Said, in a soft and whispering tone,
"Have I been good to-day?"

39

40

THE COLD-WATER BOY.

Oh, many, many, bitter tears

"Twould save us, did we say,

Like that dear child, with earnest heart, "I will be good to-day."

THE COLD-WATER BOY.

HURRAH, for a splash!

Come, give me a dash,
With the water all clear and cold;
It makes me so bright,

So active and light,

'Tis better than silver and gold.

Oh, what should I do,

Dear mother, if you

Never wash'd me so sweet and so clean ?
Come, give me a splashing;

It is so refreshing,

All the day I would like to stay in.

I never would cry,
Nor halloo-not I-
Unless 'twere for joy and for glee
I love the good splashing,
And plunging, and dashing:
Hurrah the cold water for me!

MY MOTHER.

My mother, my kind mother,
I hear thy gentle voice;
It always makes my little heart
Beat gladly and rejoice.

When I am ill, it comes to me,

And kindly soothes my pain;
And when I sleep, then in my dreams
It sweetly comes again.

It always makes me happy,
Whene'er I hear its tone;
I know it is the voice of love,
From a heart that is my own.

My mother, my dear mother,
Oh may I never be

Unkind or disobedient,

DAWN OF DAY.

COME, arise from thy sleep,
Through the window now peep;
Birds sweetly are straying,
Their bright plumes displaying,
At dawn of day.

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DON'T KILL THE BIRDS.

Let us breathe the fresh air,
For the morning is fair,
And the forest is ringing
With merry birds singing,
At dawn of day.

Come along for a talk,
Or a sweet morning walk,
While the garden discloses
Its bright blushing roses,

At dawn of day.

But first to our King

Let us joyfully sing,

And praises be paying;

"Tis good to be praying

At dawn of day.

DON'T KILL THE BIRDS.

DON'T kill the birds, the little birds,
That sing about your door,
Soon as the joyous spring has come,
And chilling storms are o'er.

The little birds, how sweet they sing ;
Oh, let them joyous live,

And do not seek to take their lives,

Which you can never give.