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Devotional Poetry for the Children
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That carol on the trees;
I love the gentle, murmuring stream;
I love the evening breeze.
I love to hear the busy hum
Of honey-making bee,
And learn a lesson, – hard to learn, —
Of patient industry.
I love to think of Him who made
Those pleasant things for me,
Who gave me life, and health, and strength,
And eyes, that I might see.
The child who raises, morn and eve,
In prayer its tiny voice
Who grieves whene’er its parents grieve,
And joys when they rejoice, —
In whose bright eyes young genius glows,
Whose heart, without a blot,
Is fresh and pure as summer’s rose, —
That child’s a sunny spot.
LIKE JESUS
I want to be like Jesus,
So lowly and so meek;
For no one marked an angry word,
Whoever heard him speak.
I want to be like Jesus,
So frequently in prayer;
Alone upon the mountain top,
He met his Father there.
I want to be like Jesus:
I never, never find,
That he, though persecuted, was
To any one unkind.
I want to be like Jesus,
Engaged in doing good;
So that of me it may be said,
I have done what I could.
I HAVE A HOME
I have a home in which to live,
A bed to rest upon,
Good food to eat, and fire to warm,
And raiment to put on.
Kind parents, full of gentle love,
Brothers and sisters, too,
With many faithful, loving friends,
Who teach me what to do.
How many little children have
No food, nor clothes to wear,
No house, nor home, nor parents kind,
To guide them by their care.
For all Thy bounty, O my God,
May I be grateful found,
And ever show my love to Thee,
By loving all around.
GOD
God! – What a great and holy name!
Oh! who can speak His worth?
By saints in heaven He is adored,
Obeyed by men on earth
And yet a little child may bend
And say: “My Father and my Friend.”
The glorious sun, which blazes high,
The moon, more pale and dim,
And all the stars which fill the sky,
Are made and ruled by Him:
And yet a child may ask His care,
And call upon His name in prayer.
And this large world of ours below,
The waters and the land,
And all the trees and flowers that grow,
Were fashioned by His hand;
Yes, – and He forms our infant race,
And even I may seek His face.
THE BIRD’S NEST
There’s a nest in the hedge-row,
Half bid by the leaves,
And the sprays, white with blossom,
Bend o’er it like eaves.
God gives birds their lodging,
He gives them their food,
I love the gentle, murmuring stream;
I love the evening breeze.
I love to hear the busy hum
Of honey-making bee,
And learn a lesson, – hard to learn, —
Of patient industry.
I love to think of Him who made
Those pleasant things for me,
Who gave me life, and health, and strength,
And eyes, that I might see.
The child who raises, morn and eve,
In prayer its tiny voice
Who grieves whene’er its parents grieve,
And joys when they rejoice, —
In whose bright eyes young genius glows,
Whose heart, without a blot,
Is fresh and pure as summer’s rose, —
That child’s a sunny spot.
LIKE JESUS
I want to be like Jesus,
So lowly and so meek;
For no one marked an angry word,
Whoever heard him speak.
I want to be like Jesus,
So frequently in prayer;
Alone upon the mountain top,
He met his Father there.
I want to be like Jesus:
I never, never find,
That he, though persecuted, was
To any one unkind.
I want to be like Jesus,
Engaged in doing good;
So that of me it may be said,
I have done what I could.
I HAVE A HOME
I have a home in which to live,
A bed to rest upon,
Good food to eat, and fire to warm,
And raiment to put on.
Kind parents, full of gentle love,
Brothers and sisters, too,
With many faithful, loving friends,
Who teach me what to do.
How many little children have
No food, nor clothes to wear,
No house, nor home, nor parents kind,
To guide them by their care.
For all Thy bounty, O my God,
May I be grateful found,
And ever show my love to Thee,
By loving all around.
GOD
God! – What a great and holy name!
Oh! who can speak His worth?
By saints in heaven He is adored,
Obeyed by men on earth
And yet a little child may bend
And say: “My Father and my Friend.”
The glorious sun, which blazes high,
The moon, more pale and dim,
And all the stars which fill the sky,
Are made and ruled by Him:
And yet a child may ask His care,
And call upon His name in prayer.
And this large world of ours below,
The waters and the land,
And all the trees and flowers that grow,
Were fashioned by His hand;
Yes, – and He forms our infant race,
And even I may seek His face.
THE BIRD’S NEST
There’s a nest in the hedge-row,
Half bid by the leaves,
And the sprays, white with blossom,
Bend o’er it like eaves.
God gives birds their lodging,
He gives them their food,
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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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