Lord, how Thy wonders are display'd Where'er I turn mine eye!

If I survey the ground I tread, Or gaze upon the sky!

There's not a plant or flower below But makes Thy glories known: And clouds arise, and tempests blow, By order from Thy throne.

Creatures (as numerous as they be) Are subject to Thy care: There's not a place where we can flee, But G.o.d is present there.

--_Isaac Watts_.

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A GENERAL SONG OF PRAISE TO G.o.d

How glorious is our heavenly King, Who reigns above the sky!

How shall a child presume to sing His dreadful majesty?

How great His power is none can tell, Nor think how large His grace: Not men below, nor saints that dwell On high before His face.

Not angels, that stand round the Lord, Can search His secret will; But they perform His heavenly word, And sing His praises still.

Then let me join this holy tram, And my first offerings bring; The eternal G.o.d will not disdain To hear an infant sing.

My heart resolves, my tongue obeys, And angels shall rejoice, To hear their mighty Maker's praise Sound from a feeble voice.

--_Isaac Watts_.

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INNOCENT PLAY

Abroad in the meadows, to see the young lambs Run sporting about by the side of their dams, With fleeces so clean and so white; Or a nest of young doves in a large open cage, When they play all in love, without anger or rage, How much we may learn from the sight!

If we had been ducks, we might dabble in mud; Or dogs, we might play till it ended in blood: So foul and so fierce are their natures; 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 injure 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, "'T is all but in sport!"

--_Isaac Watts_.

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AGAINST QUARRELING AND FIGHTING

Let dogs delight to bark and bite, For G.o.d hath made them so; Let bears and lions growl and fight, For 't is their nature, too:

But, children, you should never let Such angry pa.s.sions rise; Your little hands were never made To tear each other's eyes.

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.

His soul was gentle as a lamb; And as His stature grew, He grew in favor both with man And G.o.d, His Father, too.

Now, Lord of all, He reigns above, And from His heavenly throne He sees what children dwell in love, And marks them for His own.

--_Isaac Watts_.

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LOVE BETWEEN BROTHERS AND SISTERS

Whatever 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 't is a shameful sight, When children of one family Fall out, and chide, and fight.

Hard names at first, and threatening words That are but noisy breath, May grow to clubs and naked swords, To murder and to death.

The devil tempts one mother's son To rage against another; So wicked Cain was hurried on Till he had killed his brother.

The wise will make their anger cool, At least before 't is night; But in the bosom of a fool It burns till morning light.

Pardon, O Lord, our childish rage, Our little brawls remove; That, as we grow to riper age, Our hearts may all be love.

--_Isaac Watts_.

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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 traveler's come to the West, His rays are all gold, and his beauties are best; He paints the skies gay as he sinks to his rest, And foretells a bright rising again.

Just such is the Christian. His course he begins, Like the sun in the mist, when 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.

--_Isaac Watts_.

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[Ill.u.s.tration]

THE PITTI MADONNA By Murillo (1618-1682)

"The Pitti Madonna is one of this sweet company, and perhaps the loveliest of them all. Both she and her beautiful boy are full of gentle earnestness, and if they are too simple-minded to realize what is in store for them, they are none the less ready to do the Father's will."--_Hurll_ [End ill.u.s.tration]

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SUMMER

The heats of Summer come hastily on, The fruits are transparent and clear; The buds and the blossoms of April are gone, And the deep colored cherries appear.

The blue sky above us is bright and serene, No cloud on its bosom remains; The woods and the fields and the hedges are green, And the hayc.o.c.k smells sweet from the plains.

But, hark! from the woodlands what sound do I hear?

The voices of pleasure so gay; The merry young haymakers cheerfully bear The heat of the hot summer's day.