SUNDAY.
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'T is Sunday morning, dear mamma! I do not wish to play; Last night I put my dolls and toys Safe in my box away.
I'll come and sit down by your side, While you the story tell Of the good little Joseph, whom His father loved so well.
And of the time when waters dark Covered the world around; And all but Noah in his ark, Beneath the waves were drowned.
And of the gentle dove, that forth O'er those wide waters flew, And twice, with weary wing, returned, No resting-place in view.
And how the infant Moses, too, Floated the Nile along; And how his mother made for him The basket cradle strong.
Please tell these Bible-stories then, And take me on your knee, And I'll sit still, my dear mamma, And listen quietly. | |
THE PLEASANT WORLD.
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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. | |
