I have no name—
I am but two days old.
What shall I call thee?
I happy am,
Joy is my name.—
Sweet joy befall thee!
Pretty joy!
Sweet joy but two days old.
Sweet joy I call thee,
Thou dost smile,
I sing the while,
Sweet joy befall thee!
THE LAMB.
Little lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee,
Gave thee life and bid thee feed
By the stream and o'er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest cloth, woolly, bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice
Making all the vales rejoice;
Little lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Little lamb, I'll tell thee,
Little lamb, I'll tell thee.
He is called by thy name,
For He calls himself a Lamb:
He is meek and he is mild,
He became a little child,
I a child and thou a lamb,
We are called by His name.
Little lamb, God bless thee,
Little lamb, God bless thee.
THE LITTLE BOY LOST.
Father! father! where are you going?
Oh, do not walk so fast.
Speak, father speak to your little boy,
Or else I shall be lost.
The night was dark, no father was there;
The child was wet with dew;
The mire was deep and the child did weep,
And away the vapor flew.
THE LITTLE BOY FOUND.
The little boy lost in the lonely fen,
Led by the wandering light,
Began to cry; but God, ever nigh,
Appeared like his father in white;
He kissed the child, and by the hand led,
And to his mother brought,
Who, in sorrow pale, through the lonely dale,
Her little boy weeping sought.