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Devotional Poetry for the Children
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Let no temptation snare me,
Or tear me from Thy hand.
May innocence and purity
My clothing ever be,
That though this earth is still my home,
I may walk close to Thee.
REFLECTIONS
We’re just starting into life, —
What shall arm us for its strife?
What shall lead our steps aright?
Whence shall come a guiding light?
Whence shall come the saving word?
How the voice of God be heard?
Not from sages, – not from books,
Nor twinkling stars, nor babbling brooks.
These all speak His power and love,
Who rules below, and rules above;
But to know His holy will,
Oft in silence deep and still,
We must turn an ear within;
There, midst life’s disturbing din,
The “still, small voice,” in whispers sweet
Shall point our way and guide our feet.
WHAT IS HEAVEN?
Love is heaven, and heaven is love,
This is all of heaven above;
There no envy, wrath, nor strife,
Mars the bliss of endless life.
There no anger swells the breast,
There no pride disturbs the rest;
Nor can hatred dwell above,
In that world of perfect love.
THE CHILD’S MONITOR
The wind blows down the largest tree,
And yet the wind I cannot see.
Playmates far off, that have been kind,
My thought can bring before my mind.
The past, by it, is present brought,
And yet I cannot see my thought.
The charming rose perfumes the air,
Yet I can see no perfume there.
Blithe Robin’s notes, – how sweet! how clear!
From his small bill they reach my ear;
And while upon the air they float,
I hear, yet cannot see, a note.
When I would do what is forbid,
By something in my heart I’m chid;
When good I think, then quick and pat,
That something says, “My child, do that.”
When I too near the stream would go,
So pleased to see the waters flow,
That something says without a sound,
“Take care, dear child, thou mayst be drowned!”
And for the poor whene’er I grieve,
That something says, “A penny give.”
Thus spirits good and ill there be,
Although invisible to me;
Whate’er I do, they see me still,
But oh, good spirits! guide my will.
GIVE US OUR DAILY BREAD
I knew a widow very poor,
Who four small children had;
The eldest was but six years old,
A gentle, modest lad.
And very hard this widow toiled
To feed her children four:
An honest pride the woman felt,
Though she was very poor.
To labor she would leave her home,
For children must be fed;
And glad was she when she could buy
A shilling’s worth of bread.
Or tear me from Thy hand.
May innocence and purity
My clothing ever be,
That though this earth is still my home,
I may walk close to Thee.
REFLECTIONS
We’re just starting into life, —
What shall arm us for its strife?
What shall lead our steps aright?
Whence shall come a guiding light?
Whence shall come the saving word?
How the voice of God be heard?
Not from sages, – not from books,
Nor twinkling stars, nor babbling brooks.
These all speak His power and love,
Who rules below, and rules above;
But to know His holy will,
Oft in silence deep and still,
We must turn an ear within;
There, midst life’s disturbing din,
The “still, small voice,” in whispers sweet
Shall point our way and guide our feet.
WHAT IS HEAVEN?
Love is heaven, and heaven is love,
This is all of heaven above;
There no envy, wrath, nor strife,
Mars the bliss of endless life.
There no anger swells the breast,
There no pride disturbs the rest;
Nor can hatred dwell above,
In that world of perfect love.
THE CHILD’S MONITOR
The wind blows down the largest tree,
And yet the wind I cannot see.
Playmates far off, that have been kind,
My thought can bring before my mind.
The past, by it, is present brought,
And yet I cannot see my thought.
The charming rose perfumes the air,
Yet I can see no perfume there.
Blithe Robin’s notes, – how sweet! how clear!
From his small bill they reach my ear;
And while upon the air they float,
I hear, yet cannot see, a note.
When I would do what is forbid,
By something in my heart I’m chid;
When good I think, then quick and pat,
That something says, “My child, do that.”
When I too near the stream would go,
So pleased to see the waters flow,
That something says without a sound,
“Take care, dear child, thou mayst be drowned!”
And for the poor whene’er I grieve,
That something says, “A penny give.”
Thus spirits good and ill there be,
Although invisible to me;
Whate’er I do, they see me still,
But oh, good spirits! guide my will.
GIVE US OUR DAILY BREAD
I knew a widow very poor,
Who four small children had;
The eldest was but six years old,
A gentle, modest lad.
And very hard this widow toiled
To feed her children four:
An honest pride the woman felt,
Though she was very poor.
To labor she would leave her home,
For children must be fed;
And glad was she when she could buy
A shilling’s worth of bread.
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Последний отзыв
Так получилось, что книга ко мне попала в тяжелый эмоциональный кризис и многое мне дала. Написано актуально, тут многих полезных вещей, никакого злоу...
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