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.