She went to school
And all the way
God saw the heart
Of Ida May
Was sweetly raised
To Him, to pray
That He would wash
Her sins away—
For Jesus’ sake.
And God that day,
Freely forgave
Dear Ida May.
THE PEACOCK.
Is it right, Mr. Peacock, to strut about so?
Your plumage is fine ’tis allowed;
And had you but painted that beautiful tail,
You would then, with some reason, feel proud.
Many bright little flowers, as pretty as you,
Are found in some shady retreat.
Go learn of the rose-buds and violets, too,
Their modesty renders them sweet.
God gave you the plumage we so much admire;
God painted the butterfly’s wing;
God deck’d the green fields with flowers so gay,
And taught the dear birds how to sing.