But what was worst of all, mamma,
I could not say my prayers;
And then I thought my heart would burst,
For I was drowned in tears.
For sure, I cried, God will not hear
A child so wicked pray;
I dare not hope he’ll let me live
To see another day.
Thus did I weep till morning dawned,
And yet found no relief;
For, oh! what comfort can there be
For such a wicked thief?
MOTHER.
Go, my poor, wretched, guilty child,
Go, take the top you stole
And give it to the man you wronged,
And own to him the whole.
Then, on your knees before your God,
Confess how vile you’ve been;
Beg him to pardon and forgive
This great and dreadful sin.
And never while you live, again
To such a deed consent,
Lest God should take away your life
Before you could repent.
DOLLY’S NAME.
My Dolly’s name,—
What shall it be?
I want a pretty one,
Let’s see;—
There’s Bessie, Jessie,
Bell, and Nell;
Well, I think
I’ll call her Bell!