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النشر الإلكتروني

SATURDAY NIGHT.

The week is passing fast away,

The hours are almost done; Before I rise, the Sabbath-day

Will surely be begun.

Through all this week what have I done?

Have I been kind to all ?
Have I sought anything but fun,
And run at

every

call ?

Have I been still when I was bid,

And ceased to make a noise ? Have I been good in all I did,

At lessons or at toys?

I’m naughty every day I live,

Say many a foolish word;
But God can pardon all my sins,

Through JESUS CHRIST, my LORD.

An infant's prayer He will not scorn;

I'll pray before I sleep,
And ask His love, then rest 'till morn,
For He my soul will keep.

M. L. DUNCAN. FOR A VERY LITTLE CHILD.

25

FOR A VERY LITTLE CHILD.

O THAT it were my chief delight

To do the things I ought!
Then let me try with all my might

To mind what I am taught.

Wherever I am told to go,

I'll cheerfully obey ;
Nor will I mind it much, although

I have a pretty play.

When I am bid, I 'll freely bring

Whatever I have got;
And never touch a pretty thing,

If mother tells me not.

When she permits me, I may

tell About my little toys; But if she's busy, or unwell,

I must not make a noise.

And when I learn my hymns to say,

And work, and read, and spell, I will not think about my play,

But try and do it well :

For God looks down from heaven on high,

Our actions to behold;
And He is pleased when children try

To do as they are told.

JANE TAYLOR.

LITTLE THINGS.

LITTLE drops of water,

Little grains of sand,
Make the mighty ocean,

And the pleasant land.

Thus the little minutes,

Humble though they be,
Make the mighty ages

Of eternity.

Thus our little errors

Lead the soul away
From the path of virtue,

Off in sin to stray.

Little deeds of kindness,

Little words of love,
Make our earth an Eden,

Like the heaven above.

GOD'S WORKS.

27

GOD'S WORKS.

Who made the sky that looks so blue,

Who made the grass so green;
Who made the flowers that smell so sweet,

In pretty colors seen?
'T was God our Father, great in power,
0! let us all His Name adore.

Who made the little bird to fly?

How sweetly she has sung ;
And, though she soars so very high,

She 'll not forget her young.
'T was God our Father, great in power;
0! let us all His Name adore.

Who made the sun that shines so bright,

And gladdens all we see?
It comes to give us heat and light:

How thankful should we be !
'Twas God our Father, great in power;
O! let us all His Name adore.

Who made the moon and stars so high,

The darkest night to cheer?
How bright they shine on yonder sky,

Oft as the heavens are clear!
'T was God our Father, great in power;
O! let us all His Name adore.

GOD IS GOOD.

God is good! Each perfumed flower,

The smiling fields, the dark green wood, The insect, futtering for an hour,

All things proclaim that God is good.

I hear it in the rushing wind;

Hills that have for ages stood,
And clouds, with gold and silver lined,

Are still repeating, God is good.

Each little rill, that many a year,

Has the same verdant path pursued, And every bird, in accents clear,

Joins in the song that God is good.

The restless main, with haughty roar,

Calms each wild wave and billow rude, Retreats submissive from the shore,

And swells the chorus, God is good.

Countless hosts of burning stars

Sing His praise with light renewed ; The rising sun each day declares,

In rays of glory, God is good,

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