A little sunbeam stole
On a summer’s day,
Through a tiny crevice,
To where a sick man lay.
It played upon the wall,
And upon his table:
With a smile he watched it
As long as he was able.
Much he loved the sunbeam,
Little dancing light;
It told of sunny hours,
Of skies and meadows bright.
Kind words are like sunbeams,
Stealing into hearts;
Scatter them most freely,
Ere light of life departs.
COMPASSION.
Oh! turn that little foot aside,
Nor crush beneath its tread,
The smallest insect of the earth,
Which has from God its bread.
If He, who made the universe,
Looks down in kindest love,
To shape a humble thing like this,
From His high throne above,
Thou shouldst not dare, in wantonness,
That creature’s life destroy;
Nor give a pang to any thing
That He has made for joy.
My child, begin in little things
To act the gentle part;
For God may turn His love away
From the cruel, selfish heart.