Devotional Poetry for the Children

LIVE FOR SOMETHING

Live for something, be not idle,Look about thee for employ,Sit not down to useless dreaming, —Labor is the sweetest joy.Folded hands are ever weary,Selfish hearts are never gay,Life for thee hath many duties, —Active be, then, whilst thou may.Scatter blessings in thy pathway!Gentle words and cheering smilesBetter are than gold and silver,With their grief-dispelling wiles.As the pleasant sunshine fallethEver on the grateful earth,So let sympathy and kindnessGladden well the darkened hearth.Hearts there are oppressed and weary, —Drop the tear of sympathy;Whisper words of hope and comfort;Give, and thy reward shall beJoy unto thy soul returning,From this perfect fountain-head;Freely, as thou freely givest,Shall the grateful light be shed.

THE BEAUTIFUL

The beautiful! the beautiful!Where do we find it not?It is an all-pervading grace,And lighteth every spot.It sparkles on the ocean wave,It glitters in the dew;We see it in the glorious sky.And in the floweret’s hue.On mountain-top, in valley deep,We find its presence there;The beautiful! the beautiful!It liveth every where.The glories of the noontide day,The still and solemn night;The changing seasons, – all can bringTheir tribute of delight.There’s beauty in the child’s first smile;And in that look of faith,The Christian’s last on earth, beforeHis eyes are closed in death.And in the beings that we love,Who have our tenderest care,The beautiful! the beautiful!How sweet to trace it there!’Twas in the glance that God threw o’erThe young created earth;When He proclaimed it very good,The beautiful had birth.Then who shall say this world is dull,And all to sadness given,While yet there grows on every side,The smile that came from heaven?If so much loveliness is sentTo grace our earthly home,How beautiful! how beautiful!Will be the world to come.

DON’T KILL THE BIRDS

Don’t kill the birds! – the little birds,That sing about your door,Soon as the joyous spring has come,And chilling storms are o’er.The little birds! – how sweet they sing!Oh! let them joyous live;And do not seek to take the lifeWhich you can never give.Don’t kill the birds! – the pretty birds,That play among the trees!’Twould make the earth a cheerless place,Should we dispense with these.Don’t kill the birds! – the happy birds,That bless the field and grove;So innocent to look upon, —They claim our warmest love.

LITTLE ACTS OF KINDNESS

Little acts of kindness,Trifling though they are,How they serve to brightenThis dark world of care!Little acts of kindness,Oh, how potent they,To dispel the shadowsOf life’s cloudy day.Little acts of kindness,How they cheer the heart!What a world of gladnessWill a smile impart!How a gentle accentCalms the troubled soul,When the waves of passionO’er it wildly roll!You may have around youSunshine, if you will,Or a host of shadows,Gloomy, – dreary, – chill.If you want the sunshine,Smile, though sad at heart;To the poor and needyKindly aid impart.To the soul-despairingBreathe a hopeful word;From your lips be onlyTones of kindness heard.Ever give for anger,Love and tenderness;And, in blessing others.You yourself will bless.Little acts of kindness,Nothing do they cost;Yet when they are wanting,Life’s best charm is lost.Little acts of kindness,Richest gems of earth;Though they seem but trifles,Priceless is their worth.* * * * *If wisdom’s ways you wisely seek,Five things observe with care: —To whom you speak, – of whom you speak, —And how, – and when, – and where.

THE BLESSINGS

Blessed are the poor in spirit,They the kingdom shall possess,Rich in faith and heavenly blessings,Let us ever forward press.Blessed are the sad and mournful,Weeping o’er their treasures goneFor the darkness gathered o’er themIs the harbinger of morn.Blessed are the meek and lowly,They the green earth shall inherit;Full of love, and peace, and gladness,Fruits of God’s most Holy Spirit.Blessed they who thirst and hunger;All their wants shall be supplied;Never yet have been forsakenThey, who on their God relied.Blessed they who, loving mercy,Joy not in another’s pain;All the mercy shown to othersThey shall for themselves obtain.Blessed are the pure and prayerful,Seeking God in every place;They shall in their home eternalSee Him ever face to face.Blessed are the good peace-makers,For God’s children they shall be;Of His glory full partakers,When from earth their spirits flee.Blessed ye, when men revile you,Treat you falsely for My sake;For the prophets gone before youDid the self-same treatment take.Let us then be ever mindfulOf the precepts Christ has given;So that when this life is over,We may dwell with Him in heaven.

WHEN FATHER COMES HOME

When my father comes home in the evening from work,Then I will get up on his knee,And tell him how many nice lessons I learn,And show him how good I can be.He shall hear what number I know how to count;I’ll tell him what words I can spell;And if I can learn something new every day,I hope soon to read very well.I’ll repeat to him all the good verses I know,And tell him how kind we must be,That we never must hurt little creatures at all:And he will be glad, and love me.I’ll tell him we always must try to please God,And never be cruel or rude;For God is the Father of all living things,He cares for and blesses the good.

HARVEST-FIELD OF TIME

Children, all of us are gleanersIn the harvest-field of time;Day by day the grain is ripeningFor a sunnier clime.Whether in the early morning,Going forth with busy feet,Or, as weary laborers, resting’Mid the noon-day heat;Let us strive, with cheerful spirits,Each our duties to fulfil,Till the time of harvest, – subjectTo the Master’s will.Let us garner up sweet memories,Bound with ties of love;Pleasant thoughts to cheer the pathwayTo our home above.Trusting that these precious gleanings,Bound with loving hand,May in golden sheaves be gatheredTo the spirit land.

PRAYER

Watch o’er me, Heavenly Shepherd,Extend Thy crook of love,That so no germ of angerA source of trial prove.Keep me within Thy pastures,And feed me from Thy hand;Let no temptation snare me,Or tear me from Thy hand.May innocence and purityMy clothing ever be,That though this earth is still my home,I may walk close to Thee.

REFLECTIONS

We’re just starting into life, —What shall arm us for its strife?What shall lead our steps aright?Whence shall come a guiding light?Whence shall come the saving word?How the voice of God be heard?Not from sages, – not from books,Nor twinkling stars, nor babbling brooks.These all speak His power and love,Who rules below, and rules above;But to know His holy will,Oft in silence deep and still,We must turn an ear within;There, midst life’s disturbing din,The “still, small voice,” in whispers sweetShall point our way and guide our feet.

WHAT IS HEAVEN?

Love is heaven, and heaven is love,This is all of heaven above;There no envy, wrath, nor strife,Mars the bliss of endless life.There no anger swells the breast,There no pride disturbs the rest;Nor can hatred dwell above,In that world of perfect love.

THE CHILD’S MONITOR

The wind blows down the largest tree,And yet the wind I cannot see.Playmates far off, that have been kind,My thought can bring before my mind.The past, by it, is present brought,And yet I cannot see my thought.The charming rose perfumes the air,Yet I can see no perfume there.Blithe Robin’s notes, – how sweet! how clear!From his small bill they reach my ear;And while upon the air they float,I hear, yet cannot see, a note.When I would do what is forbid,By something in my heart I’m chid;When good I think, then quick and pat,That something says, “My child, do that.”When I too near the stream would go,So pleased to see the waters flow,That something says without a sound,“Take care, dear child, thou mayst be drowned!”And for the poor whene’er I grieve,That something says, “A penny give.”Thus spirits good and ill there be,Although invisible to me;Whate’er I do, they see me still,But oh, good spirits! guide my will.

GIVE US OUR DAILY BREAD

I knew a widow very poor,Who four small children had;The eldest was but six years old,A gentle, modest lad.And very hard this widow toiledTo feed her children four:An honest pride the woman felt,Though she was very poor.To labor she would leave her home,For children must be fed;And glad was she when she could buyA shilling’s worth of bread.And this was all the children had,On any day to eat;They drank their water, ate their bread,But never tasted meat.One day, when snow was falling fast,And piercing was the air,I thought that I would go and seeHow these poor children were.Ere long I reached their cheerless home,’Twas searched by every breeze;When going in, the eldest childI saw upon his knees.I paused, and listened to the boy, —He never raised his head;But still went on and said, – “Give usThis day our daily bread.”I waited till the child was done,Still listening as he prayed;And when he rose, I asked him whyThe Lord’s Prayer he had said.“Why, sir,” said he, “this morning, whenMy mother went away,She wept because, she said, she hadNo bread for us to-day.“She said, we children now must starve,Our father being dead;And then I told her not to cry,For I could get some bread.“Our Father, sir, the prayer begins,Which makes me think that He,As we have got no father here,Would our kind father be.“And then, you know, the prayer, sir, too,Asks God for bread each day;So, in the corner, sir, I went,And that’s what made me pray.”I quickly left that wretched room,And went with fleeting feet;And very soon was back againWith food enough to eat.“I thought God heard me,” said the boy;I answered with a nod;I could not speak; but much I thoughtOf that child’s faith in God.

TRUE REST

Sweet is the pleasureItself cannot spoil!Is not true leisureOne with true toil?Thou, that would taste it,Still do thy best;Use it, not waste it,Else, ’tis no rest.Wouldst behold beautyNear thee, all round?Only hath dutySuch a sight found.Rest is not quittingThe busy career;Rest is the fittingOf self to its sphere.’Tis the brook’s motion,Clear without strife,Fleeing to ocean,After its life.Deeper devotionNowhere hath knelt,Fuller emotionHeart never felt.’Tis loving and serving,The highest and best!’Tis onward, – unswerving, —And that is true rest.

ONE BY ONE

One by one the sands are flowing,One by one the moments fall;Some are coming, some are going, —Do not strive to grasp them all.One by one thy duties wait thee,Let thy whole strength go to eachLet no future dreams elate thee,Learn thou first what these can teachOne by one (bright gifts from heaven)Joys are sent thee here below;Take them readily when given,Ready, too, to let them go.One by one thy griefs shall meet thee.Do not fear an armed band;One will fade as others greet thee,Shadows passing through the land.Do not look at life’s long sorrow;See how small each moment’s pain;God will help thee for to-morrow,Every day begin again.Every hour that flits so slowly,Has its task to do or bear;Luminous the crown, and holy,If thou set each gem with care.Do not linger with regretting,Or for passing hours despond!Nor, thy daily toil forgetting,Look too eagerly beyond.Hours are golden links, God’s token,Reaching Heaven; one by oneTake them, lest the chain be brokenEre the pilgrimage be done.

GOD SEEN IN HIS WORKS

There’s not a tint that paints the rose,Or decks the lily fair,Or streaks the humblest flower that blows,But God has placed it there.At early dawn, there’s not a galeAcross the landscape driven,And not a breeze that sweeps the vale,That is not sent by Heaven.There’s not, of grass, a single blade,Or leaf of loveliest green,Where heavenly skill is not displayed,And heavenly wisdom seen.There’s not a tempest, dark and dread,Or storm that rends the air,Or blast that sweeps the ocean’s bed,But God’s own voice is there.Around, – beneath, – below, – above, —Wherever space extends,There God displays His boundless love,And power with mercy blends.

THE LITTLE SUNBEAM

A little sunbeam stoleOn 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 itAs 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 thingThat He has made for joy.My child, begin in little thingsTo act the gentle part;For God may turn His love awayFrom the cruel, selfish heart.

I WILL BE GOOD TO-DAY

“I will be good, dear mother,”I heard a sweet child say,“I will be good, – now watch me!I will be good all day.”She lifted up her bright young eyes,With a soft and pleasing smile;Then a mother’s kiss was on her lips;So pure and free from guile.And when night came, that little one,In kneeling down to pray,Said, in a soft and whispering tone,“Have I been good to-day?”Oh, many, many bitter tears’Twould save us, did we say,Like that dear child, with earnest heart,“I will be good to-day.”

I’LL DO WHAT I CAN

I may, if I have but a mind,Do good in many ways;Plenty to do, the young may find,In these our busy days.Sad would it be, though young and small,If I were of no use at all.One gentle word that I may speak,Or one kind loving deed,May, though a trifle, poor and weak,Prove like a tiny seed;And who can tell what good may springFrom such a very little thing?Then let me try, each day and hour,To act upon this plan;What little good is in my power,To do it while I can:If to be useful thus I try,I may do better by and by.

TIME TO ARISE

Come, little sister, ’tis time to arise,The sun has arisen to brighten the skies;Every bird is singing high, —Birds are glad, and so am I.Merrily, merrily, those in the tree,Bluebird and Robin, are singing to me;Round the window see them fly, —Birds are glad, and so am I.Glad little robin, you never can knowWho is the Maker who fashioned you so;Yet you cannot weep nor sigh, —Birds are glad, and so am I.He who created the birds of the air,Surely will keep me from trouble and care;He has taught the birds to fly, —Birds are glad, and so am I.

DIVINE GUIDANCE

O Thou, who hast at Thy command,The hearts of all men in Thy hand!Our wayward, erring hearts inclineTo know no other will but Thine.Our wishes, our desires control;Mould every purpose of the soul;O’er all may we victorious be,That stands between ourselves and Thee.Thrice blest will all our blessings be,When we can look through them to Thee;When each glad heart its tribute paysOf love, and gratitude, and praise.

INDUSTRY

Up, be doing, little children:Up, be doing, while ’tis day;Do the work the Master gives you,Do not loiter by the way:For we all have work before us,Thou, my child, as well as I;Let us seek to learn our duty,And perform it cheerfully.Be up and doing, little children,Gentle be, and ever kind;Helpful to your loving mothers,E’en their slightest wishes mind.Let your little playmates love you,For your care and gentle play;And the feeble and more wilful,Help them by your kindly way.

“PRAYER IS THE SOUL’S SINCERE DESIRE.”

Prayer is the soul’s sincere desire,Uttered or unexpressed;The motion of a hidden fireThat glows within the breast.Prayer is the burden of a sigh,The falling of a tear,The upward glancing of an eye,When none but God is near.Prayer is the simplest form of speechThat infant lips can try;Prayer, the sublimest strains that reachThe Majesty on high.

ANGRY WORDS

Angry words! O let them neverFrom the tongue unbridled slip;May the heart’s best impulse everCheck them, e’er they soil the lip.Love is much too pure and holy,Friendship is too sacred far,For a moment’s reckless follyThus to desolate and mar.Angry words are lightly spoken,Bitterest thoughts are rashly stirred;Brightest links of life are brokenBy a single angry word.

THE REQUEST

Father, whate’er of earthly blissThy sovereign will denies,Accepted at Thy throne of graceLet this petition rise.Give me a calm, a thankful heart,From every murmur free;The blessings of Thy grace impart,And make me live to Thee.Let the sweet hope that Thou art mine,My life and death attend;Thy presence through my journey shine,And crown my journey’s end.