THE HORSE’S PRAYER
To you, My Master, I offer my prayer: Feed, water, and care for me, and, when the day’s work is done, provide me with shelter, a clean, dry bed, and a stall wide enough for me to lie down in comfort.
Always be kind to me. Talk to me. Your voice often means as much to me as do the reins. Pet me sometimes, that I may serve you the more gladly and learn to love you.
Do not jerk the reins, and do not whip me when going up hill. Never strike, beat, or kick me when I do not understand what you want, but give me a chance to understand you.
Watch me, and if I fail to do your bidding, see if something is not wrong with my harness or my feet.
Do not check me so that I cannot have the free use of my head. If you insist that I wear blinders, so that I cannot see behind me as it was intended that I should, I pray you be careful that the blinders stand well out from my eyes.
Do not overload me, or hitch me where water will drip on me. Keep me well shod.
Examine my teeth when I do not eat; I may have an ulcerated tooth, and that, you know, is very painful.
Do not tie my head in an unnatural position, or take away my best defense against flies and mosquitoes by cutting off my tail.
I cannot tell you when I am thirsty, so give me clean cool water often. I cannot tell you in words when I am sick, so watch me, that by signs you may know my condition.
Give me all possible shelter from the hot sun, and put a blanket on me, not when I am working, but when I am standing in the cold. Never put a frosty bit in my mouth; first warm it by holding it a moment in your hands.
I try to carry you and your burdens without a murmur, and wait patiently for you during long hours of the day and night. Without the power to choose my shoes or path, I sometimes fall on the hard pavements, and I must be ready at any moment to lose my life in your service.
And finally, O My Master, when my useful strength is gone, do not turn me out to starve or freeze, or sell me to some cruel owner, to be slowly tortured and starved to death; but take my life in the kindest way, and your God will reward you here and hereafter. Amen.—Issued by the Ohio Humane Society.
Suppose this Horse Takes Cold and Suffers and Dies—Who is to Blame?
QUESTIONS
I
What animal has been one of mankind’s most faithful servants and one of his very best friends?
Can you explain the difference between the work horse, the saddle horse, the race horse, the fire horse?
Should we have as fine a city if there had never been any horses?
Can you think of some ways of repaying horses for the work they do for us?
When you grow old, how do you want to be treated, especially if you have worked hard all your life?
How do you think old horses should be treated?
Did you ever have a hard fall on the ice?
How did you walk afterward?
Could you have walked carefully if you had been going down hill holding back a heavy load?
How can we help horses in slippery weather?
How can we help them up when they fall?
Why is it harder to start to move a load than it is to keep it moving after it is started?
Do you know that many horses are made blind by being over-driven?
Tell a story showing how intelligent horses are.
Have you ever seen the non-slip chains which drivers can put on horses’ feet to keep them from slipping?
Have you ever read “Black Beauty,” or “Beautiful Joe,” or “Our Goldmine at Hollyhurst,” or “The Strike at Shane’s”?
II
What are the names of some of the great societies founded to protect animals?
How can children help in such work?
Do children who are kind to animals turn out better than those who are cruel to them? Why?
If you had your choice as to what animal you would be, would you choose to be a horse?
Does it make any difference to you whether any one else is cold and hungry and tired and suffering? Whether an animal is suffering?
Will you tell your teacher the next time you help some animal?
Tell some of the things you think a horse would say if he could talk. A dog. A cat. A monkey. A bird.
Where does a horse get his strength? Should he not be well fed?
Children should never feel that their hands are too small and weak to help toward making the world a happier place for all to live in, for the world needs their work quite as much as it does that of the older people.—M. C. Yarrow.
