Devotional Poetry for the Children

And little acts of charity,
And little deeds of love,
May make this world a paradise,
Like to that world above.

EXAMINATION

Before we close our eyes to-night,
Oh, let us each these questions ask!
Have we endeavored to do right,
Nor thought our duty a hard task?

Have we been gentle, lowly, meek,
And the small voice of conscience heard?
When passion tempted us to speak,
Have we repressed the angry word?

Have we with cheerful zeal obeyed
What our kind parents bade us do?
And not by word or action said
The thing that was not strictly true?

In hard temptation’s troubled hour,
Oh! have we stopped to think and pray,
That God would please to give us power
To chase the naughty thought away?

Oh, Thou! who seest all my heart,
Do Thou forgive and love me still
And unto me new strength impart,
And make me love and do Thy will.

GOD IS IN HIS HOLY TEMPLE

God is in His holy temple;
Thoughts of earth be silent now,
While with reverence we assemble,
And before His presence bow.
He is with us, now and ever,
While we call upon His name,
Aiding every good endeavor,
Guiding every upward aim.

God is in His holy temple, —
In the pure and humble mind;
In the reverent heart and simple;
In the soul from sense refined.
Then let every low emotion
Banished far and silent be;
And our hearts in pure devotion,
Lord, be temples worthy Thee.

MORNING GLORIES

They said, “don’t plant them,” mother; “they’re so common and so poor;”
But of seeds I had no other, so I dropped them by the door;
And they soon were brightly growing, in the rich and teeming soil,
Stretching upward, upward, upward, to reward me for my toil.

They grew all o’er the casement, and they wreathed around the door,
All about the chamber windows, upward, – upward, ever more;
And each dawn, in glowing beauty, glistening with early dew,
Is the house all wreathed with splendor, every morning bright and new.

What, if they close at mid-day? ’tis because their work is done,
And they shut their crimson petals from the kisses of the sun;
Teaching every day their lesson to my weary, panting soul,
To be faithful in well doing, stretching upward for the goal,

Sending out the climbing tendrils, trusting God for strength and power,
To support, and aid, and comfort, in the trying day and hour.
Ne’er spurn the thing that’s common, nor call homely flowers poor,
Each hath a holy mission, like my Glory o’er the door.

HOW BEAUTIFUL THE SETTING SUN

How beautiful the setting sun!
The clouds, how bright and gay!
The stars, appearing one by one,
How beautiful are they!

And when the moon climbs up the sky,
And sheds her gentle light,
And hangs her crystal lamp on high,
How beautiful is night!

And can it be, that I’m possessed
Of something brighter far?
Glows there a light within this breast,
Out-shining every star?

Yes, should the sun and stars turn pale,
The mountains melt away,
This flame within shall never fail,
But live in endless day.

SUMMER TIME

I love to hear the little birds