God made the bright, round sun;

He made the pretty flowers;

The little birds, the trees, the clouds

The rain that falls in showers.

He made papa, mamma,

And baby brother, too;

And mother says He looks from Heaven,

And sees each thing I do.

Then I must try to be

Pleasant, and sweet, and mild;

For the good God who made me loves

A kind, obedient child.

Now again the yellow sun

Shines upon my window-pane;

Now anothor day's begun,

I can laugh and play again.

I must try to-day to be

Kind in all I say and do;

Then will God be pleased with me,

And mamma will love me too.

For she says that God above

Loves to see a little child

Sweet and gentle as the dove,

Like the pretty lamb so mild.

Now the sun hath gone to rest,

Stars are coming faint and dim,

And the bird within his nest

Sweetly sings his evening hymn.

Have I tried mamma to mind?

Was I gentle in my play?

Have I been a true and kind,

Pleasant little girl to-day?

Then will God take care of me

Kindly, through the long dark night;

Bright and happy, I shall see

Once again the morning light.

Why, what a frightful face is this!

And what has happened, sir, amiss?

Come, let me wipe these tears away,

And see no more cross looks to-day.

If Kate did throw your blocks about,

She's very sorry, I've no doubt;

And here she stands to tell you so,

And build another house, I know.

No tears and crying here must be,

So have a pleasant smile for me.

There, that will do,—now run away,

And kindly with your sister play.

Stop, naughty pussy! that's not fair!

Jump down this minute from the chair!

You've eaten my nice slice of bread.

And here are only crumbs instead.

I for a minute left the room

To listen to the "Buy a broom,"

And now I think it's quite too bad

That you my luncheon should have had.

Her mother said, "My dear, if you

Had done what you were told to do,

And put the plate upon the shelf,

You might have had the bread yourself.

"But if you have no thought nor care,

And leave your luncheon on a chair,

You must not blame poor pussy-cat;

She knows no better, dear, than that.

"The one who left her bread about

Upon the chair, while she went out,—

The one who hangs her head for shame,—

My little girl's the one to blame!"

No, Robbie! you can go away;

I am not ready yet to play;

For I must learn these words to spell,

That I may say my lesson well.

How sad our dear mamma would look,

To find that I had left my book!

And if I disobeyed her so,

My play would not be gay, I know.

I'll learn my lesson very soon,

And then I'll run with you till noon;

So, Robbie, you can go away,

And presently I'll come and play.

We've the dearest baby sister!

And so small and sweet is she,

That we love to stand beside her,

All her cunning ways to see.

She can talk in baby language,

She can laugh, and she can crow;

She's the pet and she's the darling,

She's the sweetest one we know.

Mother says that she will always

Be a sweet and gentle child,

If, in all our actions towards her,

We are loving, good, and mild.

Let us, then, be kind and pleasant

Ever to our little pet;

Nor to thank the God who gave her,

Morn and night, let us forget.

How glad it makes me feel at night,

When sitting on my mother's knee,

To hear her whisper "You've done right,

And tried my gentle child to be."

But then I feel ashamed and sad

If I've been cross and disobeyed,

Or if my selfish way I've had

When I with other children played.

So if at night I'd call to mind

A day of undisturbed delight,

The only way that I can find

Is to be loving and do right.

"Don't wash me, pray, mamma, today,"

I once heard little Jennie say,

"For oh! so very hard you rub,

I never want to see my tub."

"O, very well," her mother said;

"I'll put you back again to bed;

And you must in your night-gown stay,

Nor come down stairs at all to-day."

And then I heard Miss Jennie cry,

And beg mamma to let her try;

And say, as she had done before,

That she'd so naughty be no more.

Her mother turned and left her there;

She heard her step upon the stair;

But in her chamber, all day long,

She staid alone, for doing wrong.

She heard her sister jump and run,

And longed to join her in her fun;

Her brother made a snow-man high;

But she upon her bed must lie.

She heard the merry sleigh-bells ring,

And to the door come clattering;

But Jennie could not go to ride

In night-clothes by her father's side.

And glad was she, as you may guess,

The next day to put on her dress;

She ran and told her mother then

She never would do so again.

Don't kill the spider, little Fred,

But come and stand by me,

And watch him spin that slender thread,

Which we can hardly see.

How patiently, now up, now down,

He brings that tiny line!

He never stops, but works right on,

And weaves his web so fine.

You could not make a thread so small,

If you should try all day;

So never hurt him, dear, at all,

But spare him in your play.

Now a new day just begun,

I'll try to spend it well;

That I may have, when eveningcomes,

No naughty deeds to tell.

So through my life may every day

Be better than the past;

That God may take me, when I die,

To live in heaven at last.

The sun has set behind the hill,

The bird is sleeping in his nest;

And now, when all around is still,

I lay me down to welcome rest.

May the kind God, who lives above,

And watches o'er us day and night,

Bless us, and grant us, in His love,

Again to see the morning light.

Come, sister Ellen, get your hat

And come away with me;

My boat, all rigged with mast and sail,

I want you so to see!

Do you upon the landing stand,

While here I'll kneel and blow,

So that the little "Water-witch"

Beneath the arch may go.

There! there! she's off! how fast she goes

Across the river wide!

I'd love to sit in her myself,

And o'er the water glide.

When I'm a man I'll have a boat,

And every sunny day,

We'll take a long and pleasant sail,

Till daylight fades away.

Little Lucy was left in the room once alone,

Where the table was set out for tea;

She looked all around, and she thought to herself

That no one was there who could see.

Then she climbed on a chair and took off the top

Of the sugar-bowl, shining and bright;

And there were the lumps of the sugar she loved,

All looking so nice and so white!

Then she said to herself, "Mamma never will know,

If I take away only just one;"

So she took it, and ate it;—it tasted so good,

She thought, "But one more, and I've done."

But while she was reaching her hand out for more,

The chair slipped away from her feet;

And poor little Lucy soon wished much that she

Had not taken the sugar so sweet:

For her head struck the floor, and made such a noise,

That every one hastened to see;

And all of them knew, by the sugar she held,

How naughty Miss Lucy could be!

And no one was sorry, although her poor head

Ached sadly because of her fall;

For little girls never—so every one said—

Should taste or should meddle at all.

God sees me always. When I sleep,

He kindly watches near;

He loves the little child to keep,

Who tries to please Him here.

When I'm alone He sees me too,

Though no one else is by;

And every naughty thing I do,

He sees it from on high.

He sees me, too, when I am rude,

And cry, and fret, and tease;

He loves to see me when I'm good

And try mamma to please.

Then, since He sees me day and night,

And is so kind to me,

I must do always what is right,

His gentle child must be.

A rain once fell upon the earth

For many a day and night,

And hid the flowers, the grass, the trees,

The birds and beasts, from sight.

The deep waves covered all the land,

And mountain-tops so high;

And nothing could be seen around,

But water, and the sky.

But yet there was one moving thing,—

A still and lonely ark,—

That, many a weary day and night,

Sailed o'er that ocean dark.

At last, a little dove was forth

From that lone vessel sent;

But, wearied, to the ark again,

When evening came, she bent.

Again she went, but soon returned,

And in her beak was seen

A little twig—an olive-branch—

With leaves of shining green.

The waters sank, and then the dove

Flew from the ark once more,

And came not back, but lived among

The tree-tops, as before.

Then from the ark they all came forth,

With songs of joy and praise;

And once again the green earth smiled

Beneath the sun's warm rays.

Now, Ellen, stop screaming and running away,

And come here and listen to me;

Is it true, my dear daughter, I want you to say,

That you're foolishly scared by a bee?

The bee is as frightened as you are, my dear,

For he can't tell the way to get out;

And as for his sting, that you never need fear,

If you do not run crying about.

If you were to catch him, why, then, I dare say

You'd soon feel his sharp little sting;

But if you sit still at your work or your play,

Be sure that no harm he will bring.

So wipe off these tears and never again

Give way to so foolish a fright;

For if you indulge it 't will cost you much pain

And no one will want you in sight.

I love to see the sun go down

Behind the western hill;

I love to see the night come on,

When everything is still.

I love to see the moon and stars

Shine brightly in the sky;

I love to see the rolling clouds

Above my head so high.

I love to see the little flowers

That grow up from the ground;

To hear the wind blow through the trees,

And make a rustling sound.

I love to see the sheep and lambs

So happy in their play;

I love to hear the small birds sing

Sweetly, at close of day.

I love to see them all, because

They are so bright and fair;

And He who made this pleasant world

Will listen to my prayer.

In Bible times so long ago,

And in a far-off city, too,

A mother watched her only child

As he in strength and beauty grew.

And when his little tottering feet

Had scarcely learned to go alone,—

Before his baby voice could speak

Her name, with a sweet, joyous tone,—

She took her boy and travelled on,

Away from home, for many a mile,

That with a good and holy man

Her darling son might live a while;

That he might learn about the God

Who made the earth and sea and sky;

And then she left him there and turned

Back to her home, with many a sigh.

She could not place him on her knee

And tell him he was very dear;

And so she made a little coat

And brought it to him every year.

But you, my little girl, can learn,

While you are sitting close by me,

Of heaven, and that kind God above,

Who made in love each thing we see.

And you should thank Him every day,

That you can here His goodness know;

And from your pleasant, happy home,

And your dear parents, need not go.