But Thomas and William, and such pretty names, Gue to the Father praise,

Should be cleanly and harmless as doves, or as lambs, Give glory to the Son ;

Those lovely sweet innocent creatures. And to the Spirit of his grace

Not a thing that we do, nor a word that we say, Be equal honour done.

Should hinder another in jesting or play;

For he's still in earnest that's hurt:
How rude are the boys that throw pebbles and mire!

There's none but a madman will fing about fire,

And tell you “ 'Tis all but in sport."
Such as I wish some happy and condescending

III. THE ROSE. genius would undertake for the use of children, How fair is the rose! what a beautiful flower! and perform much better.

The glory of April and May ! The sense and subjects might be borrowed plenti- But the leaves are beginning to fade in an hour, fully from the Proverbs of Solomon, from all the

And they wither and die in a day. common appearances of nature, from all the occur- Yet the rose has one powerful virtue to boast, rences of civil life, both in city and country (which Above all the flowers of the field : would also afford matter for other divine songs). When its leaves are all dead, and fine colours are lost, Here the language and measures should be easy, Still how sweet a perfume it will yield ! and flowing with cheerfulness, with or withont the solemnities of religion, or the sacred names of God So frail is the youth and the beauty of men, and holy things; that children might find delight But all our fond care to preserve them is vain ;

Though they bloom and look gay like the rose; and profit together.

Time kills them as fast as he goes. This would be one effectual way to deliver them from those idle, wanton, or profane songs, which Then I'll not be proud of my youth or my beauty, give so early an ill taint to the fancy and memory,

Since both of them wither and fade; and become the seeds of future vices.

But gain a good name by well-doing my duty :

This will scent like a rose when I'm dead.
Tis the voice of the sluggard; I heard him com-


“ You have wak'd me too soon, I must slumber | Why should I deprive my neighbour
As the door on its hinges, so he on his bed, [head.
Turns his sides and his shoulders and his heavy Hands were made for honest labour,

Of his goods against his will ?
" A little more sleep, and a little more slumber;" Not to plunder or to steal.
Thus he wastes half his days, and his hours with-T is a foolish self-deceiving
out number;

By such tricks to hope for gain :
And when he gets up, he sits folding his hands, All that's ever got by thieving
Or walks about sauntering, or trifling he stands.

Turns to sorrow, shame, and pain.
I pass'd by his garden, and saw the wild brier, Have not Eve and Adam taught us
The thorn and the thistle grow broader and higher; Their sad.profit to compute ?
The clothes that hang on him are turning to rags : To wbat dismal state they brought us
And his money still wastes till he starves or he begs. When they stole forbidden fruit !
I made him a visit, still hoping to find

Oft we see a young beginner
He had took better care for improving his mind : Practise little pilfering ways,
He told me bis dreams, talk'd of eating and drinking; Till grown up a harden'd sinner;
But hescarce reads his Bible, and never loves thinking. Then the gallows ends his days.
Said I then to my heart, “Here's a lesson for me: Theft will not be always hidden,
That man's but a picture of what I might be:

Though we fancy none can spy: But thanks to my friends for their care in my When we take a thing forbidden, breeding,

God beholds it with his eye.
Who taught me betimes to love working and read-Guard my heart, O God of Heaven,

Lest I covet what's not mine :

Lest I steal what is not given,

Guard my heart and hands from sin.
ABROAD in the meadows to see the young lambs
Run sporting about by the side of their dams,
With feeces so clean and so white;

Or a nest of young doves in a large open cage,
When they play all in love, without anger or rage, We tread them to dust, and a truop of them dies

These emmets how little they are in our eyes ! How much may we learn from the sight!

Without our regard or concern: If we had been ducks, we might dabble in mud; Yet, as wise as we are, if we went to their school, Or dogs, we might play till it ended in blood; There's many a sluggard, and many a fool, So foul and so fierce are their natures:

Some lessons of wisdom might learn.


They don't wear their time out in sleeping or play,

But gather up corn in a sun-shiny day,
And for winter they lay up their stores :

How fine has the day been, how bright was the They manage their work in such regular forms,

Sun, One would think they foresaw all the frosts and the How lovely and joyful the course that he run, storms,

Though he rose in a mist when his race he begun, And so brought their food within doors.

And there follow'd some droppings of rain!

But now the fair traveller 's come to the West, But I have less sense than a poor creeping ant,

His rays are all gold, and his beauties are best; If I take not due care for the things I shall want,

He paints the sky gay as he sinks to his rest,
Nor provide against dangers in time.

And furetels a bright rising again.
When Death or Old Age shall stare in my face,
What a wretch shall I be in the end of my days,

Just such is the Christian : his course he begins, If I trifle away all their prime!

Like the Sun in a mist, while he mourns for his sins,

And melts into tears: then he breaks out and shines, Now, now, while my strength and my youth are

And travels his heavenly way: in bloom, Let me think what will serve me when sickness Like a fine setting Sun, he looks richer in grace,

But when he comes nearer to finish his race, shall come,

And gives a sure hope at the end of his days
And pray that my sins be forgiven:

Of rising in brighter array.
Let me read in good-books, and believe, and obey,
That when Death turns me out of this cottage of

I may dwell in a palace in Heaven.

Some copies of the following Hymn having got

abroad already into several hands, the author

has been persuaded to permit it to appear in pubVI. GOOD RESOLUTIONS.

lic, at the end of these Songs for Children.
THOUGH I'm now in younger days,
Nor can tell what shall befall me,

I'll prepare for every place,
Where my growing age shall call me.

Husk! my dear, lie still and slumber,
Should I e'er be rich or great,

Holy angels guard thy bed! Others shall partake my goodness;

Heavenly blessings without number I'll supply the poor with meat,

Gently falling on thy head. Never showing scorn or rudeness.

Sleep, my babe; thy food and raiment, Where I see the blind or lame,

House and home, thy friends provide; Deaf or dumb, I'll kindly treat them;

All without thy care or payment. I deserve to feel the same

All thy wants are well supplied. Ifl mock, or hurt, or cheat them.

How much better thou 'rt attended If I meet with railing tongues,

Than the Son of God could be, Why should I return them railing,

When from Heaven he descended, Since I best revenge my wrongs

And became a child like thee! By my patience never failing?

Soft and easy is thy cradle: When I hear them telling lies,

Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay: Talking foolish, cursing, swearing ;

When his birth-place was a stable, First I'll try to make them wise,

And bis softest bed was hay. Or I'll soon go out of hearing.

Blessed babe! what glorious features, What though I be low and mean,

Spotless fair, divinely bright! I'll engage the rich to love me,

Must he dwell with brutal creatures While l'in modest, neat and clean,

How could angels bear the sight? And submit when they reprove me.

Was there nothing but a manger If I should be poor and sick,

Cursed sinners could afford I shall meet, I hope, with pity,

To receive the heavenly stranger! Since I love to help the weak,

Did they thus affront their Lord ? Though they 're neither fair nor witty.

Soft, my child; I did not chide thee, I'll not willingly ofteud,

Though my song might ind too hard ; Nor be easily offended;

mother What 's amiss I'll strive to mend,

'T is thy

sits beside thee,

nurse that And endure what can't be mended.

And her arms shall be thy guard. May I be so watchful still

Yet to read the shameful story, O'er my humours and iny passion,

How the Jews abus'd their King, As to speak and do no ill,

How they serv'd the Lord of glory, Though it should be all the fashion !

Makes me angry while I sing. Wicked fashions lead to Hell;

Ne'er may I be found complying; But in life behave so well,

Here you may use the words brother, sister, Nut to tre afraid of dying.

neighbuur, friend, &c.


See the kinder shepherds round him,

'T was to save thee, child, from dying, Telling wonders from the sky!


my dear from burning flame, Where they sought him, there they found him, Bitter groans and endless crying, With his virgin mother by.

That thy blest Redeemer came. See the lovely habe a-dressing;

Mayst thou live to know and fear him, Lovely infant, how he smil'd!

Trust and love him all thy days; When he wept, the mother's blessing

Then go dwell for ever near him, Sooth'd and hush'd the holy child.

See his face, and sing his praise ! Lo, hé slumbers in his manger,

I could give thee thousand kisses, Where the horned oxen fed ;

Hoping what I most desire; Peace, my darling, here 's no danger,

Not a mother's fondest wishes Here's no ox a-near thy bed.

Can to greater joys aspire.

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