Hymns, Songs, and Fables, for Young People | Page 3

no refuge here
Shall find a friend in heaven.
Then hail, thou sacred, blessed day,
The best of all the seven,
When
hearts unite their vows to pay
Of gratitude to Heaven.
THE GOOD BOY'S HYMN ON GOING TO BED.
How sweet to lay my weary head
Upon my quiet little bed,
And
feel assured, that all day long
I have not knowingly done wrong!
How sweet to hear my mother say,
"You have been very good
to-day!"
How sweet to see my father's joy
When he can say, "My
dear, good boy!"
How sweet it is my thoughts to send
To many a dear-loved distant
friend,
And feel, if they my heart could see,
How very happy they
would be!
How sweet to think that He whose love
Made all these shining worlds
above
My pure and happy heart can see,
And loves a little boy like
me.
[Illustration]
GOD IS GOOD.
Thou art good! Each perfumed flower,
Waving fields, the dark green
wood,
The insect fluttering for an hour,--
All things proclaim that
God is good.
I hear it in each breath of wind;
The hills that have for ages stood,

And clouds with gold and silver lined,
All still repeat that God is
good.

Each little rill, that many a year
Has the same verdant path pursued,

And every bird, in accents clear,
Joins in the song that God is
good.
The restless sea, with haughty roar,
Calms each wild wave and billow
rude,
Retreats submissive from the shore,
And swells the chorus,
"God is good."
The countless hosts of twinkling stars,
That sing his praise with light
renewed;
The rising sun each day declares,
In rays of glory, God is
good.
The moon, that walks in brightness, says,
That God is good! and man,
endued
With power to speak his Maker's praise,
Should still repeat
that God is good.
EVENING.
How beautiful the setting sun!
The clouds how bright and gay!
The
stars, appearing one by one,
How beautiful are they!
And when the moon climbs up the sky,
And sheds her gentle light,

And hangs her crystal lamp on high,
How beautiful is night!
And can it be I am possessed
Of something brighter far?
Glows
there a light within this breast
Outshining every star?
Yes; should the sun and stars turn pale,
The mountains melt away,

This flame within shall never fail,
But live in endless day.
This is the soul that God has given,--
Sin may its lustre dim;
While
goodness bears it up to heaven,
And leads it back to him.
ROBINSON CRUSOE'S HYMN.
My Heavenly Father! all I see,
Around me and above,
Sends forth a

hymn of praise to thee,
And speaks thy boundless love.
The clear blue sky is full of thee,
The woods so dark and lone;
The
soft south-wind, the sounding sea,
Worship the Holy One.
The humming of the insect throng,
The prattling, sparkling rill,
The
birds, with their melodious song,
Repeat thy praises still.
And thou dost hear them every one,--
Father, thou hearest me;
I
know that I am not alone,
When I but think of thee.
HYMN.
It was my Heavenly Father's love
Brought every being forth;
He
made the shining worlds above,
And every thing on earth.
Each lovely flower, the smallest fly,
The sea, the waterfall,
The
bright green fields, the clear blue sky,--
'Tis God that made them all.
He gave me all my friends, and taught
My heart to love them well,

And he bestowed the power of thought,
And speech my thoughts to
tell.
My father and my mother dear,--
He is their father too;
He bids me
all their precepts hear,
And all they teach me, do.
God sees and hears me all the day,
And 'mid the darkest night;
He
views me when I disobey,
And when I act aright.
He guards me with a parent's care,
When I am all alone;
My hymn
of praise, my humble prayer,
He hears them every one.
God hears what I am saying now,--
O, what a wondrous thought!

My Heavenly Father, teach me how
To love thee as I ought.
ON PRAYER.

As through the pathless fields of air
Wandered forth the timid dove,

So the heart, in humble prayer,
Essays to reach the throne of love.
Like her it may return unblest,
Like her again may soar,
And still
return and find no rest,
No peaceful, happy shore.
But now once more she spreads her wings,
And takes a bolder flight,

And see! the olive-branch she brings,
To bless her master's sight.
And thus the heart renews its strength,
Though spent and
tempest-driven,
And higher soars, and brings at length
A pledge of
peace with Heaven.
"THE SPIRIT GIVETH LIFE."
What was in the viewless wind,
Wild rushing through the oak,

Seemed to my listening, dreaming mind
As though a spirit spoke?
What is it to the murmuring stream
Doth give so sweet a song,
That
on its tide my thoughts do seem
To pour themselves along?
What is it on the dizzy height,
What in each glowing star,
That
speaks of things beyond the sight,
And questions what they are?
What in the rolling thunder's voice,
What in the ocean's roar,
Hears
the grand chorus, "O, rejoice!"
Echo from shore to shore?
What in the gentle moon doth see
Pure thoughts and tender love,

And hears delicious melody
Around, below, above?
What bids the savage tempest speak
Of terror