SHORT METRE.

GIVE to the Father praise,

Give glory to the Son; And to the Spirit of his grace Be equal honour done.

A SLIGHT SPECIMEN

OF

MORAL SONGS.

Such as I wish some happy and condescending genius would undertake for the use of children, and perform much better.

THE sense and subjects might be borrowed plentifully from the Proverbs of Solomon, from all the common appearances of nature, from all the occurrences of civil life, both in city and country (which would also afford matter for other divine songs). Here the language and measures should be easy, and flowing with cheerfulness, with or without the solemnities of religion, or the sacred names of God and holy things; that children might find delight and profit together.

This would be one effectual way to deliver them from those idle, wanton, or profane songs, which give so early an ill taint to the fancy and memory, and become the seeds of future vices.

I. THE SLUGGARD.

'Tis the voice of the sluggard; I heard him complain, [again." "You have wak'd me too soon, I must slumber As the door on its hinges, so he on his bed, [head. Turns his sides and his shoulders and his heavy "A little more sleep, and a little more slumber;" Thus he wastes half his days, and his hours with

out number;

And when he gets up, he sits folding his hands,
Or walks about sauntering, or trifling he stands.
I pass'd by his garden, and saw the wild brier,
The thorn and the thistle grow broader and higher;
The clothes that hang on him are turning to rags:
And his money still wastes till he starves or he begs.
I made him a visit, still hoping to find
He had took better care for improving his mind:
He told me his dreams, talk'd of eating and drinking;
But he scarce reads his Bible, and never loves thinking.
Said I then to my heart, "Here's a lesson for me:
That man's but a picture of what I might be:
But thanks to my friends for their care in my
breeding,
[ing."

Who taught me betimes to love working and read

But Thomas and William, and such pretty names,
Should be cleanly and harmless as doves, or as lambs,
Those lovely sweet innocent creatures.
Not a thing that we do, nor a word that we say,
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 fling about fire,
And tell you ""Tis all but in sport."

III. THE ROSE.

How fair is the rose! what a beautiful flower!
The glory of April and May !

But the leaves are beginning to fade in an hour,
And they wither and die in a day.
Yet the rose has one powerful virtue to boast,
Above all the flowers of the field:

When its leaves are all dead, and fine colours are lost,
Still how sweet a perfume it will yield!

So frail is the youth and the beauty of men,

Though they bloom and look gay like the rose; But all our fond care to preserve them is vain; Time kills them as fast as he goes.

Then I'll not be proud of my youth or my beauty,
Since both of them wither and fade;

But gain a good name by well-doing my duty:
This will scent like a rose when I'm dead.

IV. THE THIEF. WHY should I deprive my neighbour Hands were made for honest labour, Of his goods against his will?

Not to plunder or to steal. T is a foolish self-deceiving

By such tricks to hope for gain : All that's ever got by thieving

Turns to sorrow, shame, and pain. Have not Eve and Adam taught us

Their sad profit to compute? To what dismal state they brought us When they stole forbidden fruit! Oft we see a young beginner

Practise little pilfering ways, Till grown up a harden'd sinner; Then the gallows ends his days. Theft will not be always hidden,

Though we fancy none can spy: When we take a thing forbidden, God beholds it with his eye. 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.

V. THE ANT OR EMMET. THESE emmets how little they are in our eyes! We tread them to dust, and a troop of them dies Without our regard or concern:

Yet, as wise as we are, if we went to their school, There's many a sluggard, and many a fool,

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 : They manage their work in such regular forms, One would think they foresaw all the frosts and the storms,

And so brought their food within doors. But I have less sense than a poor creeping ant, If I take not due care for the things I shall want, Nor provide against dangers in time. When Death or Old Age shall stare in my face, What a wretch shall I be in the end of my days, If I trifle away all their prime!

Now, now, while my strength and my youth are in bloom,

Let me think what will serve me when sickness shall come,

And pray that my sins be forgiven:

Let me read in good-books, and believe, and obey, That when Death turns me out of this cottage of clay,

I may dwell in a palace in Heaven.

VI. GOOD RESOLUTIONS.

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. Should I e'er be rich or great,

Others shall partake my goodness; I'll supply the poor with meat, Never showing scorn or rudeness. Where I see the blind or lame,

Deaf or dumb, I'll kindly treat them;

I deserve to feel the same

If 1 mock, or hurt, or cheat them.
If I meet with railing tongues,
Why should I return them railing,
Since I best revenge my wrongs

By my patience never failing?
When I hear them telling lies,

Talking foolish, cursing, swearing; First I'll try to make them wise,

Or I'll soon go out of hearing. What though I be low and mean,

I'll engage the rich to love me, While I'm modest, neat and clean, And submit when they reprove me.

If I should be poor and sick,

1 shall meet, I hope, with pity, Since I love to help the weak,

Though they're neither fair nor witty. I'll not willingly offend,

Nor be easily offended;
What 's amiss I'll strive to mend,

And endure what can 't be mended.
May I be so watchful still

O'er my humours and my passion, As to speak and do no ill,

Though it should be all the fashion!
Wicked fashions lead to Hell;

Ne'er may I be found complying;
But in life behave so well,
Not to be afraid of dying.

A SUMMER EVENING.

How fine has the day been, how bright was the

Sun,

How lovely and joyful the course that he run,
Though he rose in a mist when his race he begun,
And there follow'd some droppings of rain!
But now the fair traveller 's come to the West,
His rays are all gold, and his beauties are best;
He paints the sky gay as he sinks to his rest,
And foretels a bright rising again.

Just such is the Christian: his course he begins, Like the Sun in a mist, while he mourns for his sins, And melts into tears: then he breaks out and shines, And travels his heavenly way:

But when he comes nearer to finish his race,
Like a fine setting Sun, he looks richer in grace,
And gives a sure hope at the end of his days
Of rising in brighter array.

Some copies of the following Hymn having got abroad already into several hands, the author has been persuaded to permit it to appear in public, at the end of these Songs for Children.

A CRADLE HYMN.

HUSH! my dear, lie still and slumber,
Holy angels guard thy bed!
Heavenly blessings without number
Gently falling on thy head.

Sleep, my babe; thy food and raiment,
House and home, thy friends provide;
All without thy care or payment.

All thy wants are well supplied. How much better thou 'rt attended Than the Son of God could be, When from Heaven he descended, And became a child like thee! Soft and easy is thy cradle:

Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay: When his birth-place was a stable, And his softest bed was hay. Blessed babe! what glorious features, Spotless fair, divinely bright! Must he dwell with brutal creatures! How could angels bear the sight? Was there nothing but a manger Cursed sinners could afford To receive the heavenly stranger! Did they thus affront their Lord? Soft, my child; I did not chide thee, Though my song might sound too hard;

}

sits beside thee,

nurse that And her arms shall be thy guard. Yet to read the shameful story,

How the Jews abus'd their King, How they serv'd the Lord of glory, Makes me angry while I sing.

Here you may use the words brother, sister, neighbour, friend, &c.

See the kinder shepherds round him,

Telling wonders from the sky!

Where they sought him, there they found him,
With his virgin mother by.
See the lovely babe a-dressing;
Lovely infant, how he smil'd!
When he wept, the mother's blessing
Sooth'd and hush'd the holy child.
Lo, he slumbers in his manger,

Where the horned oxen fed;
Peace, my darling, here 's no danger,
Here's no ox a-near thy bed.

'T was to save thee, child, from dying,
Save my dear from burning flame,
Bitter groans and endless crying,
That thy blest Redeemer came.

Mayst thou live to know and fear him,
Trust and love him all thy days;
Then go dwell for ever near him,

See his face, and sing his praise!
I could give thee thousand kisses,
Hoping what I most desire;
Not a mother's fondest wishes
Can to greater joys aspire.