Cousin Hatty's Hymns and Twilight Stories Part 4

[Ill.u.s.tration: Letter I.]

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 s.h.i.+ne 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

SAMUEL.

[Ill.u.s.tration: I.]

In Bible times so long ago, And in a far-off city, too, A mother watched her only child As he in strength and beauty grew.

And when his little tottering feet Had scarcely learned to go alone,-- Before his baby voice could speak Her name, with a sweet, joyous tone,--

She took her boy and travelled on, Away from home, for many a mile, That with a good and holy man Her darling son might live a while;

That he might learn about the G.o.d Who made the earth and sea and sky; And then she left him there and turned Back to her home, with many a sigh.

She could not place him on her knee And tell him he was very dear; And so she made a little coat And brought it to him every year.

But you, my little girl, can learn, While you are sitting close by me, Of heaven, and that kind G.o.d above, Who made in love each thing we see.

And you should thank Him every day, That you can here His goodness know; And from your pleasant, happy home, And your dear parents, need not go.

THE BIRD'S NEST.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

What is Harry thinking of, Sitting on that mossy stone?

All his brothers are at play; Why is he so still and lone?

He is musing earnestly; And the flutterings of the bird And its pleading, feeble chirp Fall upon his ear unheard.

Well may little Harry think!

From the pear-tree's withered bough He has brought the pretty nest, Placed within his hat-crown now.

That is why he sits alone; And he hears a voice within, Louder than the Robin's note, Crying, "Harry, this is sin!"

Then put back the nest, my boy, So you will be glad and free, Nor will hasten by in shame, When you pa.s.s that withered tree.

G.o.d LOVES US.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Letter H.]

"How beautiful it is, mamma, That G.o.d should love us all; That He should listen to their prayer, When little children call!

"What shall I do for him, mamma?

For He's so kind to me,-- How shall I show my love to Him Who made bird, flower and tree?"

"The only thing which you can do Is this, my darling child, Be always gentle, full of love, In words and actions mild.

"Thus you will show your love to G.o.d Who is so kind to you; And you will live with Him at last In His bright heaven, too."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

THE STORY OF MOSES.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Letter T.]

"Tell me a Sunday story,"

A dear child said to me; And I bent down and kissed her And placed her on my knee.

"Once, long ago, in countries Far, very far away, Where the cold snow-storm never comes, And all is bright and gay,

"There lived a king, so cruel, He gave this stern command, That all the little children Must die, throughout the land.

"But still there was one mother Who kept her baby dear, And quickly hushed its crying, In silence and in fear;

"But when she could no longer Her precious baby hide, She did not like to throw him Upon the rus.h.i.+ng tide;

"And so a little basket She made, of rushes stout, And plastered it with clay and pitch To keep the water out.

"Then in this basket-cradle She put the little child; And quietly he floated down Among the rushes wild.

"Just then the king's own daughter Came to the water's edge, And saw the basket floating Among the gra.s.s and sedge.