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RHYMES FOR THE LITTLE ONES.(ORIGINAL AND SELECTED.)A MAY-DAY SONG.THE skies are clear, the flowers are bright,The lark is on the wing;So we will to the woodland goOur May-day song to sing.These happy hours, amid the flowersBeneath the dancing leaves,"Will be, in many a cottage home,The pleasant talk of winter eves.The sunshine gleaming on the treesFor many a cheerful mile,The birds' sweet song, the blooming flowers,All seem our Father's smile.O thank Him that He gave his SonFor sinful man to die,And thank Him next for giving usThe bonny fields and sky.-" 7 3
RHYMES FOR THE LITTLE ONES.HOLIDAY SONG.(Scotch Air.)Away, away,"With cheerful lay,And lightsome hearts we go,To spend in playOur holidayWhere the fresh breezes blow.The sun is shining bright and clear,The lark is soaring high;All nature smiling far and nearBeneath a cloudless sky.Arise arise !Come, ope your eyes,And drive dull sloth away.Who slumb'ring liesMay lose the prizeOf this bright holiday.Then loudly sing each youthful voice,A joyful chorus raise,And show how boys and girls rejoiceTo welcome summer days.When all aroundEach rural soundIs whispering peace and love,Oh, surely weShould happy be,And these glad hours improve.And when our day of pleasure's o er,And homeward we must go,We'll seek by diligence once moreOur gratitude to show.Then away, awayWith cheerful lay,And lightsome hearts we go,To spend in playOur holidayWhere the fresh breezes blow.4
RHYMES FOR THE LITTLE ONES.COME INTO THE MEADOWS.Come into the meadows, beautiful and green,Primroses and cowslips blooming there are seen,Buttercups and daisies springing everywhere,Violets and cuckoo flowers peeping here and there.Come into the meadows, greet the lark at mornRising from the clover-field or the springing corn;Join his notes of gladness rosy clouds among,Follow him, oh, follow him with a merry song.Come into the meadows, where the lambkins play,Skip with them all merry through the summer day;Down the dells and valleys, up the banks now run,Sport among the shadows, gambol in the sun.Come into the meadows at the cooling hour,When the dewdrops glisten on the closing flower:When the stars are twinkling through the vapours dim.Think of thy Creator, sing a song to him.SONGS FOR OUR LITTLE PETS." Mamma," said Louisa,'You sent me to-dayUp-stairs with the nurseAnd Willy to play."" And I told her I thoughtIt was both wrong and sillyTo say things like theseTo our dear little Willy-" Oh, hi-diddle diddle,The cat and the fiddle,The cow jumped over the moon ;The little dog laughedTo see the fine sport,And the dish ran away with the spoon.&p
RHYMES FOR THE LITTLE ONES."Nurse says she has foundThese rhymes of great use,For children are pleasedTo hear Mother Goose." Now can we not findSomething less silly,Both good and true,To amuse our dear Willy ?""I think you are right,"Her mother replied;"Nurse must try to amuse himWith something beside." But babies are pleased"With the jingle of rhyme,And old Mother GooseHas been used a long time."We must find little songsThat are not quite so silly,And buy them for NurseTo amuse little Willy."We give him each dayFresh milk and sweet bread,And his dear little mindMust be properly fed."'Tis not easy to findSweet thoughts good and true,In nursery rhymesThat are pretty and new."Oh that those who love JesusWould oftener readThe sweet words he uttered,'My lambs ye must feed !'"In this beautiful world,So joyous and bright,There are so many thingsOf which poets might writes
RKYMES FOR THE LITTLE ONES."The blue sky above us,The flowers and the trees,,The singing of birds,And the humming of bees,"Songs about these would giveOur darling great pleasure,If written in simpleAnd sweet flowing measure."SLEEP, DOLLY. .Do, Miss Dolly, shut your eye,I will wake you by-and-by;Little songs I want to read:You must go to sleep indeed.You're my little pet, 'tis true,But I cannot read to you,For you never seem to hear,Though I read quite loud and clear.Little songs are not for you-Mind I've told you what to do:So, Miss Dolly, shut your eye;I will wake you by-and-by.WAKE, DOLLY.Little songs are put away;Dolly, wake, 'tis time to play;Dolly, now you must obey:I will lead you out to play.Dolly, darling-Never, neverAre you cross-But happy ever.S7V
RHYMES FOR THE LITTLE ONES.INFANT'S SONG.(For a Scotch Air.)We are but little children yet,We are but little children yet;But as we grow the more we know,We hope we may be wiser yet.We wish to learn to read and spell,We wish to know our duty well,And every one who asks we'll tellThat we shall soon be wiser yet.Perhaps we are but naughty yet,Perhaps we are but naughty yet:But every day, we try to say,We'll be a little better yet;We mean to mind whate'er we're told,And if we're ever rude or bold,We'll try to think when we grow old;We'll wish that we were better yet.You think we are too giddy yet,You think we are too giddy yet;But wait awhile, you need not smile,Perhaps you'll see us steady yet.For though we love to run and play,And many a foolish word we say,Just come again on some fine day,You'll find us all quite steady yet.THE LITTLE WANDERER.'Twas on a pleasant morn in May,With sunshine bright and clear,When little Lucy wandered forthWithout a thought of fear.Among the scented hawthorn bloomThe bees went humming by;The lark was singing out of sight,Hid in the sunny sky.8
.THE LITTLE WANDERER.9AA\\\V~9
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RHYMES FOR THE LITTLE ONES.But Lucy scarcely noted aughtOf dawning summer's charms;Far dearer to her baby-heartThe kitten in her arms.So to the woodland walks she strayed,And sat her down to rest,Among the bushes soft and green,Like birdie in a nest.And there she stayed until she heardThe pleasant noontide chime,And knew that in her cottage homeIt was the dinner time.But, ah, that cottage home to reach,Which way should Lucy go?The woodland paths were so alike,The wanderer did not know.Then Lucy for her mother called,But mother could not hear;And on the kitten's glossy coatThere fell a burning tear.A lady, straying in the wood,It chanced was passing nigh,And to her father she remarkedShe heard a childlike cry.And 'mid the bushes, thick and green,They found the little child,And gently did the lady sootheIn whispers soft and mild."I want my mammy," Lucy sobbed:" Then where does mammy dwell ?"" Oh, close beside St. Stephen's church,Next house to Farmer Fell.""Then we will take you to your home;"So Lucy ceased to cry,And took the lady's offered hand,And walked demure and shy.11
RHYMES FOR THE LITTLE ONES.Oh, who can tell the mother's joyWhen Lucy came in view ?"While pussy hailed her missing pet"With happy purr and mew.And many a promise Lucy madeThat she no more would roam;But be content to safely playWithin the sight of home.Dear little Lucy! may she ne'erFrom her Redeemer stray,Led on by seeming charms to chooseSin's broad and flowery way.Or should she e'er so lose herself,May some kind whisper comeTo lure her to the path which leadsUnto the heavenly home.THE LITTLE BOY AND THE STARS.(Aunt Efile's Rhymes.)You little twinkling stars that shineAbove my head so high,If I had but a pair of wings,I'd join you in the sky.I am not happy lying hereWith neither book nor toy,For I am sent to bed becauseI've been a naughty boy.If you will listen, little stars,I'll tell you all I did;I only said I would not doThe thing that I was bid.I'm six years old this very day,And I can write and read,And not to have my own way yet,Is very hard indeed.12
THE RESTORED.I :3
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RHYMES FOR THE LITTLE ONES.I do not know how old you are,Or whether you can speak,But you may twinkle all day long,And play at hide and seek.Does anybody say, " Be still,"When you would dance or play ?Does anybody hinder youWhen you would have your way ?Oh, tell me, little stars, for muchI wonder why you goThe whole night long from east to west.So patiently and slow ?" We have a Father, little child,Who guides us on our way;We never question;-when he speaks,We listen and obey."CHILDREN CRYING.(Scotch Air.)Oh dear, what can the matter be?Oh dear, What can the matter be ?Oh dear, what can the matter be?Children beginning to cry !You really do make such a terrible noise,'Tis impossible even to hear one's own voice;Then pray all be quiet, little girls and boys,Nor longer continue to cry.Come, come, we've had quite enough of it,Come, come, we've had quite enough of it,Come, come, we've had quite enough of it,Do, little children, have done.Now, now little ones, you must all wipe your faces,Give over squalling, make no more grimaces,But quietly and cheerfully all take your places,Our lessons must now be begun.15
RHYMES FOR THE LITTLE ONES.LULLABY FOR BABY.Hush, little baby, Lullaby, baby,I'll sing you a song, While taking your restOne that is sweet Nothing shall harm you,And not very long. You're safe in your nest.Peep! peep! Peep! peep!Go to sleep. Go to sleep.THE SAILOR AND THE MONKEYS.Once in the hope of honest gain,From Afric's golden store,A smart young sailor crossed the main,And landed on the shore.16
RHYMES FOR THE LITTLE ONES.And leaving soon the sultry strandWhere his fair vessel lay,He travelled o'er the neighbouring landTo trade in peaceful way.Full many a toy had he to sell,And caps of scarlet dye,All such things as he knew full wellWould please the native's eye.But as he travelled through the wood,He longed to take a nap,And opening there his pack of goods,Took out a scarlet cap,And drew it on his head, therebyTo shield him from the sun,Then soundly slept, nor thought an eyeHad seen what he had done.But many a monkey dwelling there,Though hidden from his view,Had closely watched the whole affair,And longed to do so too.And while he slept did each one seizeA cap to deck his brows,Then climbing up the highest treesSat chattering on the boughs.The sailor waked, his caps were gone,And loud and long he grieves,Till, looking up with heart forlorn,He spied at once the thieves.With cap of red upon each head,Full fifty faces grimThe sailor sees, amid the trees,With eyes all fixed on him.He brandished quick a mighty stick,But could not reach their bower,Nor yet could stone, for every oneWas far beyond his power./
RHYMES FOR THE LITTLE ONES.Alas I he thought, I've safely broughtMy caps far over seas,But could not guess it was to dressSuch little rogues as these.Then quickly down he threw his own,And loud in anger cried,"Take this one too, you thievish crew,Since you have all beside."But quick as thought the caps were thrownFrom every monkey's crown,For, like himself, each little elfThrew his directly down.He then with ease did gather these,And in his pack did bind,Then through the woods conveyed his goods,And sold them to his mind.AN ODD WAY OF LIFE.Don't you think, little friend, it would very odd lookIf you went to sleep hanging up by a hook;And the plan I presume more unpleasant you'd think,If you hung up for months without victuals or drink.Now there is an animal you may have seen"When you in old castles or churches have been,Which passes the winter exactly like that;'Tis a quite common creature, its name is a Bat.* | "'
THE FLYING FOXES.19
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RHYMES FOR THE LITTLE ONES.These hooks, which I speak of, are very odd things,They're the claws of the leg sticking out near the wings;And the bats fold their wings closely over their breast,And hang by their hooks when they're going to rest.In fine summer weather they're sure to come outWhen the moths in the evening are flying about;For the bats feed on moths, and they think them as goodAs you would think mutton or pudding for food.Sometimes it will happen that one gets a fall,And then the poor thing can scarce rise up at all;If thus you should find one, pray make it a gift,It will not cost you much, all it wants is a lift.Perhaps when you hear of a bat having wingsYou will think, like a bird, it has feathers and sings,But its body is covered with soft downy hair,And it looks like a mouse flying up in the air.A Bat cannot sing, and of course it can't speak,But sometimes it utters a shrill little squeakVery much like a mouse, and at times it will hissBut 'tis very much frightened before it does this.It never lays eggs-in a hole for a houseIt brings up its little ones, much like a mouse;But instead of preparing a soft cosy nestIt teaches its young ones to hang up to rest.When the summer is over, and all the moths deadThen what will become of the bats may be said;By their hooks then they safely will hang themselves up,And for months have no wish to breakfast or sup.Now if you should catch one, be sure that you lookAt its legs and its wings for its strange little hook;And remember the story to-day you have heard,Of a creature that's both like a mouse and a bird.The Round Robin.21
".HYMES FOR THE LITTLE ONES.THE COTTAGE CHILDREN'S SATURDAY EVENING.To-day, it is a happy day,For early to his home,"While yet the sun is bright and warm,Will our dear father come.So let us clear our tasks away,And put the cottage neat,For even little Willie listsTo hear his coming feet.And now he comes, and baby crows,And Tommy shouts for glee,And father smiles a pleasant smile,Our happiness to see.SAnd so together we shall goAmong the fields and lanes,While father, of the trees and flowers,' The wondrous things explains.When, sitting 'neath the spreading tree,He hears our Sunday tasks-Our little hymns and holy texts,And many questions asks.Thus gazing on the silent woods,And on the sunny heaven,Our hearts prepare for sabbath day-The best of all the seven.Oh, if a fading earthly homeCan thus be truly blest,*What must there be upon the shoreOf endless sabbath rest!COTTAGE SONG.(Air-" Gaily the Troubadour.")Gladly the labourer,Toilworn and weary,Welcomes the evening sunSinking to rest;22
RHYMES FOR THE LITTLE ONES.Far o'er the distant hillsShines its last ray,Night is come, thoughts of homeCheer his lone way.Hark! how a joyous soundStrikes on his ear;Light steps towards him bound,Children are near.Singing their ev'ning song,Gaily they come:"Father dear father dear!Come to thy home !"Then round the glowing hearthClosely they gather;Kind words and childish mirth,Fond love is there;Grateful each humble heartSweetly they sleepO'er their rest, by Heaven blest,Angels watch keep.LILY'S AWAKENING.MOTHER.Awake, my Lily, come and seeThis robin red-breast on the tree;Open your drowsy eyes!Spring up from bed and see him now,He's lighting on the highest bough,Come quick before he flies.LIiY.Yes, dear mamma, I see the bird,And sweeter notes I never heardThan he is singing now;I hope he will not fly away,But sit and sing the livelong dayOn this, his favourite bough.23
RHYMES FOR THE LITTLE ONES.MOTHER.The birds must build their nests in spring,They have to work as well as singTo their Creator's praise;Since early dawn, dear Lily, heHas warbled out from yonder treeHis very sweetest-lays.Now tell me who has kindly keptMy little Lily while she slept;Who heard her evening prayer,And gently closed the weary eye,Nor suffered danger to come nigh,But kept her in his care?LILY.I laid me down, mamma, and slept,Because our heavenly Father keptHis child through all the night;And now I lift my heart and pray,O God, I thank thee for this day,That I may see its light."When all my friends were fast asleep,Thou didst my soul in safety keep,And took kind care of me;Father in heaven, 0 hear me now,As at thy feet I humbly bow,To ask a gift of thee.Give me thy Spirit from above,That I may learn to know and loveMy best and dearest Friend,The Saviour, who hath died for me,That I his little lamb may be;0 Lord, thy Spirit send !And now be with me all the day,That whether I'm at work or play,I may remember thenThe eye of God is still on me.Oh, help me thy dear child to be,For Jesus' sake-Amen.24 PRINTED BY W. CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET,AND CIIIA:ISG CROSS.
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