H. P. Nichols

Awake! awake! the dusky night Is fading from the sky; Awake! and with the early light

"When a child is cross and angry, Never must her voice be heard; Only to herself most softly

Here's the purple aster, And the golden-rod, And the blue fringed gentian,

"Little children, when rejoicing In the merry Christmas morn, 'Mid your sports remember ever

Why, what a frightful face is this! And what has happened, sir, amiss? Come, let me wipe these tears away,

God has kept me, dearest mother. Kindly, safely, through the day: Let me thank Him for His goodness,

Now the sun hath gone to rest, Stars are coming faint and dim, And the bird within his nest

Give us this day our daily bread; Oh! children, when you pray, And morn and night repeat these words,

"How beautiful it is, mamma, That God should love us all; That He should listen to their prayer,

God sees me always. When I sleep, He kindly watches near; He loves the little child to keep,

'Twas morning, and the pleasant light Shone on the hills, the trees, the flowers, And made a far-off country bright,

How glad it makes me feel at night, When sitting on my mother's knee, To hear her whisper "You've done right,

When I play with little children I must very gentle be; I must always do to others

Now again the yellow sun Shines upon my window-pane; Now anothor day's begun,

Now a new day just begun, I'll try to spend it well; That I may have, when eveningcomes,

If I resolve, with the new year, A better child to be, 'Twill do no good at all, I fear,

In Bible times so long ago, And in a far-off city, too, A mother watched her only child

"O George! how large your bubble is! Its colors, too, how bright! Just like the rainbow that we saw

I am coming, I am coming, With my carpet soft and green; I have spread it o'er the common,

No, Robbie! you can go away; I am not ready yet to play; For I must learn these words to spell,

Tis Summer, I know by the blue of the sky; By the trees' deeper green, as beneath them I lie; And more than all these, by the lovely wild rose

The holy Sabbath day has fled; And has it been well spent? Have I remembered what was said,

'T is Sunday morning, dear mamma! I do not wish to play; Last night I put my dolls and toys

God made the day of rest, The holy Sabbath day, For us to think and talk of Him,

"Where are the angels, mother? Though you have often said They watched at night around me,

A rain once fell upon the earth For many a day and night, And hid the flowers, the grass, the trees,

We've the dearest baby sister! And so small and sweet is she, That we love to stand beside her,

"Come hither, little brothers, And listen now to me, And I will read a story

Now, Ellen, stop screaming and running away, And come here and listen to me; Is it true, my dear daughter, I want you to say,

What is Harry thinking of, Sitting on that mossy stone? All his brothers are at play;

Stop, naughty pussy! that's not fair! Jump down this minute from the chair! You've eaten my nice slice of bread.

"I was walking, dearest mother, This morning, by the brook, And tired at last I rested me

"Don't wash me, pray, mamma, today," I once heard little Jennie say, "For oh! so very hard you rub,

"What are the flowers for, mamma, That spring up fresh and bright, And grow on every hill and plain,

Of the childhood of our Saviour Tells one simple verse alone; Yet from that his whole behavior

God made the bright, round sun; He made the pretty flowers; The little birds, the trees, the clouds

Spring has come, dear mother! I've a violet found, Growing in its beauty

Silence! stir not! for a whisper Would affright thy pretty prey; Not a motion, little lisper,

A new-born babe was sleeping Within its cradle fair, And angel guards were keeping

Come, sister Ellen, get your hat And come away with me; My boat, all rigged with mast and sail,

I've just looked from the window To see the snow come down, And make the streets look nice and white,

Little Lucy was left in the room once alone, Where the table was set out for tea; She looked all around, and she thought to herself

"O Mother! here's the organ-man, And here's the monkey, too! Just see his funny gown of red,

I love to see the sun go down Behind the western hill; I love to see the night come on,

"What is the rainbow, mother dear, With many-colored light? Have the clouds parted just to show

"Come to the window, mother! Look out, and you will see How fast these little clouds sail on,

Don't kill the spider, little Fred, But come and stand by me, And watch him spin that slender thread,

"Tell me a Sunday story," A dear child said to me; And I bent down and kissed her

"Once songs as lullabies to thee I sung, To sleep hath sung thee now an angel's tongue." From the German of Ruckert.

"My little Edward, how could you Tell me a thing that was not true? And make me feel thus grieved and sad

The happiest hour of all the day To me, is always last; When both my studies and my play,

"I hear the birds sing, mother, Yet know not what they say; I've listened to them often

"They tell me in a sunny land Our Willie is at play; And with him is a happy band

With my breath so keen and chilling, I have stripped the branches bare; And my snow-flakes white are filling,