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I know 'tis wrong; and yet my heart
So foolish is, and vain,
Unless the Lord His grace impart,
I shall do so again.
Then I must pardon seek for this,
And watch my heart with care,
Lest I should play, or act amiss,
When in the house of prayer.
Where are the swallows gone, mamma?
I have missed them many a day!
And there were so many! what could it be
That has frightened them all away?
The robins and sparrows still come to our door,
But the beautiful swallows are seen no more.
They are gone, my boy, to a warmer clime,
Over the deep deep sea,
Where the summer in all its glorious prime
Still smiles upon lake and tree;
Where the sunbeams dance 'mid the gushing springs,
They are there, my boy, with their glancing wings.
But who told them, mamma, which way to go,
In search of that sunny land?
Oh! how could such tiny creatures know
What I hardly understand?
Their eyes could not see that far off sky,
Then how could they tell which way to fly?
God was their teacher, my wondering child,
And He watched o'er each tiny thing;
He led them aright o'er the watery wild,
And strengthened each weary wing;
That God whose words in the Scriptures tell
Of a cloudless land where we too may dwell.
And He warns that here in this changeful earth We must quit our dwelling soon!
But He points to a heaven where no pain has birth,
And He offers to guide us home.
But let this, my sweet one, a lesson be,
The fowls of the air have more faith than we!
Who taught the bird to build its nest,
Of wool, and hay, and moss?
Who taught her how to weave it best,
And lay the twigs across?
Who taught the busy bee to fly
Among the sweetest flowers,
And lay her store of honey by
To eat in winter hours?
Who taught the little ants the way
Their narrow holes to bore,
And through the pleasant summer's day
To gather up their store?
'Twas God who taught them all the way,
And gave their little skill,
And teaches children when they pray
To do His holy will.
'Every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give
account thereof in the day of judgment."-Matt. XII-36.
Words are things of little cost,
Quickly spoken, quickly lost;
We forget them, but they stand
Witnesses at God's right hand;
And their testimony bear
For us, or against us, there.
Oh, how often ours have been
Idle words, or words of sin;
Words of anger, scorn, or pride,
Or deceit our faults to hide ;
Envious tales, or strife unkind,
Leaving bitter thoughts behind.
Grant us, Lord, from day to day,
Strength to watch, and grace to pray;
May our lips, from sin kept free,
Live to speak and sing of Thee;
Till in heaven we learn to raise
Hymns of everlasting praise.
"OF SUCH IS THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN."
Yes, there are little ones in heaven,
Babes such as we, around the throne,
To whom the King of kings hath given,
Eternal glory like His own;
Jesus! Thy mercy, rich and free,
Hath suffered them to come to Thee!
O let us think of them to-day-
Their sweet and everlasting song,
And hope to sing as loud as they
In the same glorious heaven, ere long.
Jesus! may this our portion be!
O! suffer us to come to Thee!
To come, with humbleness of mind,
With simple faith and earnest prayer,
To seek Thy precious cross, and find
O! set our sin-bound spirits free,
And suffer us to come to Thee!
To come, while we are young and gay,
While life, and joy, and hope run high;
To come, in sorrow's gloomiest day,
To come at last when death is nigh:
Lord! in that day our Guardian be,
And suffer us to come to Thee!
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CARLISLE: PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY HUDSON SCOTT.