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النشر الإلكتروني

She said that I must come to her

She cannot come to me :
Our Father, teach a little one

How he may come to Thee,
For I am very lonely now;

Our Father, may I come,
And join my mother in the skies?

And heaven shall be our home.


A LITTLE girl with happy look,
Sat slowly reading a ponderous book,
All bound with velvet, and edged with gold,
And its weight was more than the child could hold;
Yet dearly she loved to ponder it o'er,
And every day she prized it more,
For it said, as she looked at her dear little brother,
It said "Little children must love one another.”

She thought it was beautiful in that book,
And the lesson home to her heart she took ;
She walked on her way with a trusting grace,
And a dove-like look on her meek young face,
Which said as plain as words could say,
The Holy Bible I must obey.



So mamma, I'll be kind to my darling brother,
For “Little children must love one another.”

I'm sorry he's naughty, and will not pray,
But I'll love him still, for I think the way
To make him gentle and kind to me,
Will be better shown, if I let him see
I strive to do what I think is right-
And thus when I kneel to pray to-night,
I will clasp my arms around my brother,
And say,-“Little children must love one another."

The little girl did as the Bible taught,
And pleasant indeed was the change it wrought,
For the boy looked up in glad surprise,
To meet the light of her loving eyes;
His heart was full--he could not speak-
He pressed a kiss on his sister's cheek;
And God looked down on the happy mother,
Whose little children loved each other.

QUIET, LORD, my froward heart,

Make me teachable and mild,
Upright, simple, free from art;
Make me as a weaned child.

From distrust and envy free,
Pleased with all that pleases Thee.

What Thou shalt to-day provide,

Let me as a child receive;
What to-morrow may betide,
Calmly to Thy wisdom leave.

'Tis enough that Thou wilt care;
Why should I the burthen bear?

As a little child relies

On a care beyond its own ;
Knows he's neither strong nor wise
Fears to stir a step alone-

Let me thus with Thee abide,
As my Father, Guard, and Guide.



To guard my youthful couch from woe

An angel hovers near,
Watches my bosom's every throe,

And wipes each childish tear.

It is my mother-and with her

Through life I'd sweetly glide ; And when my pilgrimage is o'er

I'd rest me at her side.


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