Divine Songs for the Use of Children

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J.Babcock and Son, 1824 - 30 oldal

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10. oldal - WHENE'ER I take my walks abroad, How many poor I see : What shall I render to my God, For all his gifts to me ? Not more than others I deserve, Yet God hath given me more ; For I have food while others starve, Or beg from door to door.
27. oldal - But how my childhood runs to waste ! My sins, how great their sum ! Lord, give me pardon for the past, And strength for days to come.
30. oldal - Soothed and hushed 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.
21. oldal - As the door on its hinges, so he on his bed, Turns his sides and his shoulders and his heavy head. "A little more sleep, and a little more slumber...
29. oldal - Soft and easy is thy cradle: Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay, When His birthplace was a stable And His softest bed was hay.
16. oldal - Let love through all your actions run, And all your words be mild ; Live like the blessed Virgin's son, That sweet and lovely child.
25. oldal - But gather up corn in a sunshiny 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...
15. oldal - LET dogs delight to bark and bite, For God hath made them so; Let bears and lions growl and fight, For 'tis their nature too. But, children, you should never let Such angry passions rise ; Your little hands were never made To tear each other's eyes.
21. oldal - 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.
18. oldal - BRAWLS disturb the street. There should be peace at home; Where sisters dwell, and brothers meet, Quarrels should never come. Birds in their little nests agree; And 'tis a shameful sight, When children of one family Fall out, and chide, and fight. Hard names at first, and threat'ning words, That are but noisy breath, May grow to clubs and naked swords, To murder and to death.

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