Devotional Poetry for the Children

Let thy whole strength go to each
Let no future dreams elate thee,
Learn thou first what these can teach

One by one (bright gifts from heaven)
Joys are sent thee here below;
Take them readily when given,
Ready, too, to let them go.

One by one thy griefs shall meet thee.
Do not fear an armed band;
One will fade as others greet thee,
Shadows passing through the land.

Do not look at life’s long sorrow;
See how small each moment’s pain;
God will help thee for to-morrow,
Every day begin again.

Every hour that flits so slowly,
Has its task to do or bear;
Luminous the crown, and holy,
If thou set each gem with care.

Do not linger with regretting,
Or for passing hours despond!
Nor, thy daily toil forgetting,
Look too eagerly beyond.

Hours are golden links, God’s token,
Reaching Heaven; one by one
Take them, lest the chain be broken
Ere the pilgrimage be done.

GOD SEEN IN HIS WORKS

There’s not a tint that paints the rose,
Or decks the lily fair,
Or streaks the humblest flower that blows,
But God has placed it there.

At early dawn, there’s not a gale
Across the landscape driven,
And not a breeze that sweeps the vale,
That is not sent by Heaven.

There’s not, of grass, a single blade,
Or leaf of loveliest green,
Where heavenly skill is not displayed,
And heavenly wisdom seen.

There’s not a tempest, dark and dread,
Or storm that rends the air,
Or blast that sweeps the ocean’s bed,
But God’s own voice is there.

Around, – beneath, – below, – above, —
Wherever space extends,
There God displays His boundless love,
And power with mercy blends.

THE LITTLE SUNBEAM

A little sunbeam stole
On a summer’s day,
Through a tiny crevice,
To where a sick man lay.

It played upon the wall,
And upon his table:
With a smile he watched it
As long as he was able.

Much he loved the sunbeam,
Little dancing light;
It told of sunny hours,
Of skies and meadows bright.

Kind words are like sunbeams,
Stealing into hearts;
Scatter them most freely,
Ere light of life departs.

COMPASSION

Oh! turn that little foot aside,
Nor crush beneath its tread,
The smallest insect of the earth,
Which has from God its bread.

If He, who made the universe,
Looks down in kindest love,
To shape a humble thing like this,
From His high throne above,

Thou shouldst not dare, in wantonness,
That creature’s life destroy;
Nor give a pang to any thing
That He has made for joy.